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Subject: {ASSM} A 'Routine' Enslavement by Falcon (slavery, rape, non consensual, exhibitionism, voyeurism, bondage, M+/F)
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   SYNOPSIS

   This is a fantasy of a future society featuring indentured servitude and
legalized slavery.  It is a story of a man who has devoted his life to the
business of enslaving insolvent female debtors, and a young professional
woman who struggles to avoid becoming his next victim.

   STORY CODES: slavery, rape, non consensual, exhibitionism, voyeurism. 
bondage, M+/F.

   Falcon

 

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<1st attachment, "WholeStoryThru09.txt" begin>

A 'Routine' Enslavement by Falcon

   If you enjoy this story or have comments please write author at
dondaverse at yahoo dot com.  Your feedback will be much appreciated.

   This is a fantasy and any similarity of names or places to actual
persons or places is purely coincidental.  This story features scenes of
non consensual sex.  Persons who do not wish to read such scenes are
advised to stop now.  The author does not condone in real life the
activities depicted in this fantasy.

   Prologue

   The year was 2136.  The United States would be unrecognizable to those
who had lived there in the early twenty first century.  For one thing there
had been a civil war over the issues of taxation, the voting franchise and
slavery.  Ultimately the side that prevailed in the far greater number of
states was the side that wanted a major reduction of taxes, a limitation of
the voting franchise to tax paying citizens and the return of slavery.

   A new nation named Capitallia was formed consisting, at first, of 15
western states that declared their intention to secede from the U.S.  This
led at first to armed conflict, but soon other states switched their
allegiance until a total of 38 of the original 50 states comprised the new
nation, named for capitalism, the social and economic system that the new
nation meant to promote in every way possible.  The capital of the new
nation was New York City, while Washington D.C.  remained the capital of
what was left of the old United States.

   In Capitallia, the voting privilege and citizenship status were limited
to those who could demonstrate certain educational achievements and pay a
uniform per capita tax.  Taxes had been vastly reduced by avoiding
unnecessary wars and by largely eliminating the "social safety net".  The
society had also become quite class conscious.  There were sharp
distinctions between those who were citizens and those who were not, with
each class having distinctly different rights and privileges.

   Because of this class consciousness, and the absence of a 'safety net',
the criminal laws, as well as laws pertaining to contract and debt, had
evolved in ways that earlier generations might have thought harsh.

   Radical change had been made inevitable by decades of rising crime
rates, persistently high unemployment, sharply rising levels of credit
default by unemployed debtors, and the resulting high prices caused by
those debtor defaults.

   The public had grown weary of the high costs of building and running
prisons, and of the high costs of coddling insolvent debtors.  When special
interests pushed for a radical new solution, the public was ripe for it. 
Slavery, of a particularly high tech nature, had been reintroduced.

   ********************************************************

   Bill Steelforth had arrived at his office early for a meeting with a key
client.  Bill was a 'slaver's agent'.  He represented a number of diverse
clients, but most particularly the interests of an elite slave owning and
trading firm known as Richmond SlendaBond.

   Bill was in his mid forties and at the peak of his career.  Often he
would visit a new city and scout out attractive young women there who might
be insolvent.  When he found an interesting target he tried to interest one
of his clients in acquiring her.  If he received a green light, he would
then hire a local attorney, arrange for the client to buy up all her debts,
and assemble all the required evidence the attorney would need to take her
down in court.

   When such an enslavement had been successful, his client would employ
only the most advanced methods for tracking and controlling the new slave.
Not only would he or she be 'micro chipped' but would also have a digital
bio implant which allowed his or her owner to remotely monitor vital bodily
functions, remotely administer punishment for disobedience or remotely
administer sexual pleasure to reward highly skilled service.

   This morning, after the client meeting, he had discovered a pretty
twenty something girl waiting for him in his outer office.  She was
scantily clad, handcuffed and apparently in the custody of a uniformed
guard.  The guard indicated that the girl's sexual services were to be a
gift to him for the day from one of his clients.

   He instructed the guard as to his desires.  The girl was to be stripped
of all clothing except for her high heels and collar, then sent to his
inner office leashed and with hands cuffed behind her back.  The guard was
to bring in her clothing bundle also, then wait outside to collect her
later.

   First he would keep the girl standing at the side of his desk.  She was
easy on his eyes, particularly as the high heeled shoes brought out the
muscle tone of her slender legs, the handcuffs prevented any attempt at
modesty and the steel collar around her pretty neck proclaimed her status
as a sexual slave.  Her wiry black pubic hair had been trimmed in such a
way as not to obscure her feminine parts.

   He surveyed the spectacular New York City skyline from his 27th floor
corner office.  While she stood there awaiting his pleasure he decided to
make a few calls.  Then she found herself pulled her by her leash around to
his side of the desk.  He commanded her to assume a kneeling position,
facing him, under his desk.  He settled into a comfortable position in his
executive chair and unzipped himself.  If the girl's training had been
complete, she would need no further instruction.

   He eyed the file on his desk.  This case was one in which his services
had been retained for the acquisition of a particular person.  The case
concerned a debtor designated for what could only be called a 'routine'
enslavement.  She should have been just like a hundred other insolvent
female debtors whose freedom he had taken in the interests of his clients.
He just wasn't sure she was the type of person his company ought to be
acquiring.  He told himself that he wasn't getting soft, just being
careful.

   As he contemplated his reservations about the case at hand, he was
receiving much pleasure from the girl crouched between his legs.  She would
have chosen to be almost anywhere else if the choice had been hers to make.
But his client had come to own her as a result of his own efforts a year
earlier.  He experienced a thrill as he realized that her present sexual
services were a kind of reward to him from the client for a job well done.

   He had not felt compassion for her.  She had deliberately defrauded many
businesses and her present sexual slavery was a punishment well deserved.
He felt that he could, therefore, enjoy guilt free the pleasures she was
forced to provide.  While seated in his executive chair he had been able to
look down upon her blonde head, her well tanned shoulders, and her tear
stained face.  He enjoyed the pleasurable sensation of her warm wet tongue
slowly caressing the sensitive under side of his penis and glans.  This
pleasure had alternated with the rapid and feather light butterfly
movements of her tongue on his testicles.

   She had aroused him from complete flaccidity to a partial erection very
quickly, hoping to end her task in record time.  But he, wishing to prolong
both his own pleasure and her humiliation, had made her desist whenever it
seemed he might be approaching a point of no return.

   Bill knew that such a profession as his, with its attendant pleasures,
would not have been possible a century earlier.  But the straight-laced
majority of citizens had become more tolerant of the desires of a minority
to discreetly pursue such vices as pornography, nudity, prostitution, drugs
and gambling.  This had helped set the stage for what was to come.

   However, the main event that had ushered in the New Order, along with
those changed attitudes, had been the creation of the new nation of
Capitallia

   Two months ago the assign gram his secretary had pulled up on the
optiFiber machine indicated that his client, SlendaBond, wished to acquire
ownership of one Stephanie Glenn, in satisfaction of her debts to that
firm. There was a megafile elinked with some photos of Stephanie and her
vital statistics.  He had noticed that she was a looker!

   Her file detailed her professional accomplishments as an accountant, the
papers she had written for professional societies and the community
charitable activities she was involved with.  He had begun to question if
this was the sort of young woman the firm ought to be enslaving.

   He had called up the client to ask if the firm couldn't just let this
particular quarry slip through the net.  The answer that he got was an
emphatic no!  He was told that they, in turn, had a client who was prepared
to pay the firm a pretty penny for the privilege of penetrating her as and
when desired for the rest of her life.

   The client's client would be willing to sign a twenty year lease to
possess her body, following her slave training.  The company couldn't
afford to just forego such a deal!

   As he had read further in her file he began to notice tell tale signs
that someone might have run up bills in her name without her knowledge.  It
wasn't his job to rectify such things, he told himself.  Those were the
kind of things that her defense attorney should question.  Nevertheless
something about this case had made him uncomfortable.

   That was two months ago.  Since then the case had moved forward to the
point that earlier this day he had been able to do a "Creditor's
Examination" on the finances and on the person of this Stephanie Glenn.  He
had, of course, touched and intimately examined many women destined for
slavery in the course of his career.  At first it had been exciting.  Then
it got to be old.

   But with the young woman today, some of the old excitement had returned.
He stood before her this morning, peering into her mouth to check her teeth
with one hand, while cupping her vulva with the other hand.  As he did this
he experienced her trembling and a sense of her intense vulnerability.  As
a result he actually had some tender feeling for her!  He had locked eyes
with her for one brief moment.  Then he reproached himself for a moment of
weakness and went back to the business of examining her much as he might
inspect livestock.

   His thoughts had moved forward in time to the girl under his desk still
trying to bring him to climax.  His penis hardened as he thought about the
delicious experience he had with Stephanie at her exam this morning.  This
thought, together with the additional help of the young tongue beneath the
desk licking his testicles, brought him to an explosive climax.  Spurt
after spurt of his seed entered the mouth of the pretty twenty something,
and he made sure some of the spurts decorated her face as well!

   He insisted the girl continue to stimulate his completely flaccid penis
with her lips and tongue for the better part of an additional half an hour.
He hoped to come a second time.  But as thoughts about the exam this
morning began to focus more and more on the possible injustice of enslaving
Stephanie, he realized his penis was down for the count.  He no longer had
the desire for another orgasm at this time.

   He pulled on the leash of the young woman beneath his desk, indicating
that she was to rise from her lowly position.  He noted the ropes of his
semen splattered all across her face and running out of the corner of her
mouth.  She had not been able to tidy herself up since she was handcuffed.

   He took a tissue and cleaned her face himself, taking particular care to
wipe away her tears and to wipe his semen from her eyelids.  Then he used
his key to unlock her handcuffs and gave her permission to put her clothes
on.  He led her on her leash to the guard waiting to collect her just
outside his office.  He wished to be alone with his thoughts.



   Chapter 1.  Stephanie's Interview

   I applied to Masterson Automotive for my first job in accounting.  I was
22 years old and it was the year 2134.  Six months earlier my classmates
and I had received our diplomas.  The majority of my professional friends
had received no job offer since graduation.

   On the day of my appointment I chose to wear high-heeled shoes and a
rather elegant blue dress that came down only to mid thigh.  I knew that my
legs were one of my most attractive features and that showing them off
might help my chances!  When I arrived on time for my appointment, I felt I
really could not afford to blow this opportunity.

   I was excited but could also feel some tightness in my chest.  I found
myself in a reception area.  I noted six other women about my age and two
young men, all professionally dressed, and all with eclip boards busy data
inputting what I assumed were job applications.  Apparently I had
competition as the company had advertised only one opening.

   I had transmitted my completed forms via the opti some weeks earlier,
along with a letter indicating that I had researched this firm and the
reasons why I particularly wanted to work here.  I remembered that some of
the questions on the forms had been quite personal, even intrusive, but I
had answered them anyway.  After about fifteen minutes, a door opened and a
man called out my name.  "Miss Stephanie Glenn?

   I looked up to see a tall middle-aged man looking in my direction.

   "I am Jeffrey Duncan from Human Resources.  Please follow me."

   I smiled and stood to greet him.

   He escorted me down a long corridor, plushy carpeted and with tasteful
artwork, to what was apparently his own office.  There was a spectacular
view of the New York City skyline.  He moved behind his elegant desk, with
his back to me, and began speaking for a moment to someone on the phone.  I
eyed the comfortable chairs in front of his desk but he had not invited me
to sit down so I remained nervously standing.  After what seemed an
eternity he finished his call.

   "Miss Glenn, I do apologize for the interruption.  Won't you have a seat
please?  Could I have some coffee sent in for you?"

   I took my seat but shook my head regarding the coffee as I was too wired
already.

   "My colleagues and I have reviewed your resume and impressive cover
letter, obtained your academic transcripts, and checked out your
references. Seldom have we had the pleasure of considering such a superbly
qualified applicant", he beamed!

   "Thank you sir!"

   "Your fine academic record was much enhanced by evidence of your social
skills and by an obvious interest in physical pursuits.  We like to hire
applicants who are both socially adept and physically fit."

   "I do try to constantly challenge myself to maintain my skills, sir!" I
said this with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

   I felt genuinely complimented.  I was pretty sure that the "physical"
reference was to the fact that I had been captain of the college
cheerleading squad, and also an avid tennis player.  The "social" reference
was doubtless to the fact I had been Pledge Mistress and later President of
my sorority.

   "If we make you an offer," he continued, "you will find that your duties
with us may include mingling with our clients at various social functions.
You would be comfortable with that wouldn't you?"

   "Yes sir, I have always liked to mingle at social and business
functions. Perhaps you could spell out just what my duties might be at
these functions?"

   I felt myself tensing up just a bit, wondering if I should be reading
anything between the lines in the way he was phrasing this extra-curricular
job requirement.

   He leaned back in his chair and seemed to be considering his next words
carefully.

   "I won't go into detail on your actual duties." He paused to see if I
would object to this omission before continuing.

   "I will say that some of these functions may be quite formal while
others may consist of picnics, swimming pool outings and the like.  Nothing
you can't handle!" There ensued a long pause in which he seemed to be
studying my body language for any clue to how I might be taking all this
news.

   "Your apparent social skills and obvious physical attractiveness are
important to us.  Clients respond favorably to such attributes."

   I wasn't sure I wanted my physical attractiveness to be so much a factor
in their hiring decision.  The implications of that were beginning to worry
me.

   "Thank you." I said somewhat more hesitantly than before.

   "I need to inform you at this point, Miss Glenn, that we give three
exams to each applicant who reaches this stage of our selection process. 
One is psychological, one is medical, and the last we call a "physical
aesthetics exam or P.A.E".

   I was no longer making eye contact with him and my muscles tensed.  The
tests he mentioned were beginning to sound quite intrusive and in spite of
my somewhat desperate circumstances and need for this job, I was
contemplating a refusal and an early termination of this interview.

   "I sense your hesitation," he offered.  "It is not uncommon for
candidates to feel some apprehension about these tests.  But I can assure
you, Miss Glenn, that you are very close to receiving an offer from us, and
that these exams are little more than a formality which will soon be over
and behind you as you begin what we all hope will be a brilliant career
with us!"

   Not without some trepidation I reluctantly nodded my assent.  He
indicated that the Physical Aesthetics Exam would be scheduled first, and
gave me the date and time for that appointment.

   "After you pass your 'physical' exam, which I am sure you will, I will
notify you of dates for the other two tests".  With that he rose, shook my
hand, and escorted me out.

   ********************************************************

   When I reported for the "physical" exam I went directly to Room B17 in
the basement in accordance with instructions Mr.  Duncan had given me. 
There a male receptionist, who couldn't have been more than 19 years old,
greeted me.

   "You must be Stephanie Glenn", he stated.  "We have been expecting you!"

   He escorted me down a long hallway deeper into the basement complex. 
Finally we entered a private examination room.  He handed me a paper gown.

   "I will need you to disrobe and put on this gown", he said.

   "Put your clothing and personal effects in one of the lockers on the
wall over there".

   When he made no immediate move to leave, I wondered for a moment if he
planned to stay and conduct my examination himself.

   "The Examiner will be with you in just a few minutes", he finally said,
and left me to get undressed.

   After getting naked I very carefully put on the flimsy paper gown, which
was sleeveless and came only to mid thigh.  I had to wait quite a while and
this gown was little protection against the chill of the air conditioning.

   While waiting, I saw a "Physical Aesthetics Examiner" certificate on the
wall for a Thomas Baxter, the man who was evidently going to "examine" me.
He had no medical training but instead had a Master's degree in "The
Aesthetics of the Human Body".  I had not even known that such a degree
program or professional certification existed.  But much had changed in
Capitallia in the last ten years.

   At long last, Mr.  Baxter entered the room, introduced himself, made
some small talk and proceeded to fill out a buff colored form.  He called
out his observations as he checked the various boxes and made additional
notes.

   "I see that you are pretty, a redhead, fair skinned, freckled, have high
cheekbones, brown eyes, and a slightly upturned nose", he announced,
checking off items on his form.

   "I also see that you have the kind of thick lips most people would
consider sensuous!" He announced this with some enthusiasm as he scribbled
some note on the form.

   "Thank you sir." I wasn't sure I liked where this might be heading, but
I certainly didn't want to antagonize the man, who might very well hold my
future in his hands.

   "I will need to take one or two good photos of your face for our files.
Please step over here in front of this screen."

   I did so and waited patiently while he focused studio lights on my face
and adjusted the background lights.  He took front and side shots and
seemed satisfied.  With the photo taking done, he motioned me away from the
photo taking area to an alcove with a paper covered leather table and
softer lighting.

   "I will need you to remove the gown at this time", he stated
matter-of-factly, "as these exams are always conducted with the subject
naked."

   I pondered the fact that Mr.  Duncan in Human Resources had not told me
about this aspect of the exam.  It was one thing to be nude for a medical
exam, but doing it in that context felt very different.  I hesitated enough
for him to notice my discomfort, but then reluctantly complied.  With me
naked he began to call out his additional observations.

   "I see that you are slender, even exquisitely so!" he observed, checking
more boxes on the buff colored form.

   "You have well defined clavicles," he continued, "breasts that are of
modest size and firm, a flat and well toned stomach reflecting, no doubt,
your cheerleading and tennis pursuits!" he said, checking still more boxes
on his form.

   "And I can't help but comment on your very long, slim, and beautifully
muscled legs of the kind that our clients, seeing you at a beach party or
swimming pool, would certainly find most attractive!  Are these the legs
that won third place in the Boston Marathon?"

   "Yes sir, they are." I didn't like where this was going.

   "I read about that on your resume.  That is why I decided to do your
physical myself!  I wanted so much to see and touch those marathon winning
legs!"

   That last point Mr.  Baxter found it necessary to verify by asking me to
flex and tense my leg muscles several times while he fondled my thighs and
calves.  He seemed to be particularly interested in my hamstring muscles,
and how 'defined' the tendons under my flexed knees were.  It had become
way too personal, but I bit my tongue.

   "I note that your nipples erect very nicely when stimulated!"

   While he played with them, I tried to do multiplication tables in my
head to avoid becoming aroused.  He made another note on the form.  Then
his interest shifted to my genitals

   "I see that you are a natural redhead and that you have applied a lovely
perfume to this area of your body!  You have trimmed your hair 'down there'
just the way we like our female employees to do, so the vulva is adorned
but never concealed."

   I jerked instinctively when I felt his right hand fondling my bare left
buttock as he pulled me closer to him for a better view.  I thought it
outrageous that he thought any of my private parts were the company's
business.  I saw him make more notes on the buff colored form.

   "No doubt you are wondering why we care about such things?" He looked at
me quizzically.

   "I don't know if Jeff Duncan told you this or not, but there will likely
be times when you will be socializing with clients at pool parties in the
nude.  Clients like pubic hair but also like to see what you have down
there!"

   I didn't know which I felt more, the urge to slap his face or the urge
to cry!  But I had come that far, so I might as well see it through.  I
could decide later if I really wanted the job.

   After I had settled down again he asked me to do jumping jacks on a
trampoline to assess my physical fitness.  I saw a flash go off and
surmised that my naked body had been photographed during this exercise.  He
had not asked me if he might do this, and I was not at all happy about it!

   He had me turn my back to him and proceeded to palpate my firm buttocks.
He then instructed me to bend way forward and touch my fingers to the
floor. He let out a whistle!

   "I must tell you, Miss Glenn, that because of the width of you hips and
the fact that your thighs are so slender, there is quite a nice gap between
your legs just below your crotch!"

   "And your point is?" I practically shouted at him in my irritation.

   "At the nude pool parties, our clients really notice and appreciate
women of your build, since, whenever you bend forward even a little, you
provide them with a lovely rear view of your vulva!" He made another
notation on the form.

   "There is something else Jeff probably didn't tell you".  He paused, a
worried look on his face, as if considering whether he should go on.

   "Sometimes, when we are entertaining clients there will be
'opportunities' when you could help the company if you volunteered to have
sex with one of them.  I can assure you these situations are always purely
voluntary." He said this in such a casual, matter-of-fact way, that I
thought he might be making small talk about the weather.

   I was quite sure by this point that I would not likely accept any offer
the company made.  Nevertheless it would boost my self-confidence to at
least have an offer to reject after six months of fruitless job hunting.

   "You will never be forced to have sex with anyone if you don't want to!"
He proclaimed as though pointing out one of the great benefits of working
at Masterson Automotive!  "But if you do have sex with one of our clients,
then we want to be very sure the client is going to find you pleasing in
every way.  That is why we must now proceed to a more intimate examination
of your person."

   "But I am sure I would never volunteer to have sex with a client!" I
intend to keep my work life and my personal life entirely separate!"

   "That is pretty much what every young woman tells me at the time of her
exam.  But quite a few of them later change their mind.  That is why we
have to be thorough now, just in case."

   "I need you to spread apart the lips of your vulva with your fingers.  I
need to have a good look inside."

   I was seething inside but had not yet decided whether to let him know it
yet.

   "You are not a doctor sir!" I said with more than a little concern.  "I
see no reason why you need to look inside my vulva!"

   I was shocked at the impertinence of this man and the company he
represented.  I could feel my breathing speed up and the muscles of my
upper back and neck tense.  My arms were trembling.

   "It is partly for hygiene and partly for aesthetics.  Now come along and
get with the program!  I don't have all day you know!" He had answered me
with an impatient tone and a look that seemed to say it was almost beneath
his dignity to respond to my silly female objections.

   "Did all your other female job applicants agree to this procedure?"

   "Nearly all of them, yes."

   I was stalling for time to decide what to do.  I reminded myself that
jobs in the accounting field were extremely difficult to find under the
economic conditions of the time.  Finally I nodded my head in reluctant
acquiescence and held by labia open for his inspection.

   The man took his time and seemed to be immensely enjoying his work,
examining, but not touching, each little detail of my vulva while he hummed
a tune and stopped a few times to make copious notes on the buff colored
form.

   "You have a very pleasant aroma 'down there' compared to most women I
have examined!"

   He said this as though I ought to be everlastingly grateful for such a
compliment.  I became aware of my own sexual scent and looked down,
observing that my inner labia were becoming visibly engorged with blood.

   Even though he had not actually touched me down there I was becoming
aroused.  It was the humiliation of the whole situation that was making me
hot, and not any feeling I had for him.  Before I knew what was happening I
saw a flash and knew he had taken a second photo without my permission. 
This time it was of my vulva in an aroused condition!

   Without even stopping to think I shoved him away from his camera,
grabbed the camera and jerked out the film cartridge, tearing the cartridge
apart with my bare hands!  What I didn't learn until much later was that
the image had already been electronically stored and would be sent to Jeff
Duncan and others for their perusal!

   "All right bitch!  We have plenty of good job applicants here!  I don't
need to waste my time with girls like you who don't appreciate the
opportunity you are being given!"

   He stormed out of the room.  I got dressed.  Just then an attractive
woman of middle age, a Mrs.  Binson, came in to talk with me.

   "Miss Glenn, I understand that you and my colleague, Mr.  Baxter, did
not get along", she said with what appeared to be genuine concern. 
"Sometimes he can be a bit rough in his manner with the applicants.  I will
be happy to take over for Mr.  Baxter if you would feel more comfortable
with a female examiner?"

   "Yes, perhaps that would be better." I breathed a sign of relief.

   "There is one other requirement, Miss." She paused, momentarily.

   "We will need you to sign this consent form, Stephanie." As she made
this announcement she put a clipboard with a form in front of me.

   "What is that for?" I asked.

   "It is for the clitoral response test.  It is permission for me to touch
your privates, Miss Glenn, for the purpose of arousing you and for testing
your capacity for sexual response."

   This female examiner was clearly going to be no better than the male
one!

   "We need this signed to protect me personally, and the company"

   "Protect you from what?" I asked.

   "Why in case an applicant should later decide to file a complaint
alleging that she was sexually molested during the interview exam.  Believe
me, it is no big deal.  All our applicants sign this.  It is just routine."

   I felt the bile rise in my throat and I found myself yelling at her.

   "I hate to fucking spoil such a successful fucking run you and your
colleague have been having, Mrs.  Binson, but my answer is "no fucking way!
You can tell Jeff Duncan I said so, and if that disqualifies me, so be it!"
I was hoarse from shouting at her.

   With that I put my clothes back on and stormed out of the lab and out of
the building.  I really did not expect to hear further from the company
after my angry outbursts.

   Two days later, much to my surprise, I got a call from Jeff Duncan
indicating that my objection to the clitoral test had been noted, but that
I was still in the running for the job.

   He scheduled me for the medical exam at a clinic where the company had a
contract.  I got that out of the way the next day.  It was a routine sort
of exam and certainly proved to be far less embarrassing than the P.A.E. 
had been.

   Three days after that I got the call to come back the following day. 
Upon arrival I was informed that Mr.  Gregory, the company psychologist,
would see me.  After a short wait a twenty something girl in a micro skirt
took me from the reception area to his office.  I wondered how they got
their female employees to dress in such a lewd way.

   Before I had a chance to pursue that thought we were there and I was
ushered into what seemed a much less elegant office than Mr.  Duncan of
Human Resources occupied.

   "Hello, Miss Glenn, I am Paul Gregory, he said with a warm smile.  Have
a seat.  Most employees call me 'the company shrink', but really I don't
bite.  This will be your last stage in the interview process.  Can I get
you some coffee?"

   "No, I just had some, thanks." I appreciated his courtesy but felt I
could do a better job fielding his questions without the distraction of
balancing a cup in my lap.

   "Today we will see if we can learn what makes you tick, what your fears
are, and what incentives would motivate you to your highest level of
achievement here at Masterson Automotive." He announced all the foregoing
with an expansive gesture and a genial smile, but I did not feel cheerful.
I knew I needed to be on guard for a trap.  I felt the muscles in my upper
back begin to tense up.  This sounded as though it might be as intrusive
mentally as the other exam had been physically.

   "First I am informed", he paused for a pregnant moment, "that you
refused our clitoral response test.  Is that correct, and if so, why?"

   "Sir, I just believe some things are too personal to share with a
prospective employer!" I responded, in my most mellifluous voice, with as
much of a smile as I could muster.

   "Quite right!  He said as he grinned from ear to ear and slapped his
knee for emphasis.

   "We were actually pleased" he said, "that you refused that test!  It
showed us that you have some spirit and ability to be non compliant when
the situation calls for that!  What surprised us, frankly, was that you
hadn't walked out when he asked you to hold your labia open for his vulva
exam!

   He looked at me curiously, hoping for some reaction.  I was acutely
embarrassed and at a loss for anything effective to say.  Then he
continued.

   "There was really no need for you to have submitted to that.  The fact
that you did, however, shows us that you are pliable, at least to some
degree.  We like women who are pliable, within reason."

   I was not comfortable with this conversation.  "Mr.  Gregory", I said,
"that whole episode is something I would like to put behind me.  Could we
please just move on to the rest of this interview?"

   "Indeed!  I need to ask you if you have any ambitions to rise to a
management level position with our firm

   "Definitely yes!" I replied confidently.

   I could see that he was very intently making eye contact with me and
watching my body language for anything that might contradict my words.

   "Would you consider yourself to be a 'take charge' kind of person?  "

   "I can only rely on my background to show you that I do have 'take
charge' potential.  Would you like to hear of some of my accomplishments?"

   "Most definitely!" he replied.

   "In college I was Pledge Mistress of my sorority in my junior year and
was elected President in my senior year!  In high school I was captain of
our cheerleading team two years in a row!  I would think that illustrates
that others respected me as a natural leader!" I exclaimed as I smiled
brightly.

   "Then I must also ask you what kind of leader you were?"

   "What do you mean sir?" I asked, confused by his question.

   "I mean were you the kind of leader who rose to the top by pushing
anyone aside who got in your way?" Were you ruthless?"

   I got an uncomfortable feeling as I saw his eyes boring into me.  He
wasn't going to let me fluff this one off or change the subject.  Clearly
he was going after something in particular!

   "I don't understand sir?  Why would you be asking me that?  I always
tried to lead by setting a good example and by obtaining the consent and
cooperation of all concerned."

   He leaned back in his chair with a resigned expression and avoided
making eye contact with me.

   "Are you telling me the whole truth, Stephanie?" He asked as though
suggesting that I was being deliberately evasive.

   "I guess so.  At least I tried to."

   "Well, I do have some information about you, Miss Glenn, that I obtained
by interviewing some of your old high school classmates."

   He said this like a cat playing with a mouse.  He was again looking
right at me.  I felt my spirits sag.  I knew that some of them had never
liked me back in the day, and who knows what they might have said to him!
"What I learned was that when you were captain of the cheerleaders you
organized your teammates and a select few other girls into an exclusive
clique.  I was told that your clique was cruel to girls who were not
members."

   After throwing this accusation my way he just let it hang in the air for
several minutes.  He was watching my facial muscles and my body language
intently.  He had not asked a direct question so I just tried to look calm
and waited him out.  He continued.

   "I was also told that behind your back half the girls in your high
school referred to you as 'the bitch'.  Is there any truth, Stephanie, in
these statements?"

   Now I had to respond, and I was at a loss!  I knew there was truth in
what he had heard about me, but I struggled to find an artful response.  I
needed an answer that wouldn't kill my chances for this job.

   "Perhaps some of it is true." I said.  "I really don't know what to say.
That was quite a few years back and I was only 16 or 17 years old at the
time.  Now, after finishing a four year college I believe I have matured. I
am not the same person I was then."

   I could feel my brow was hot, my cheeks were flushed and I was starting
to sweat.  Maybe the job was slipping away from me in spite of all I had
endured so far.

   "We hope so Miss Glenn.  We certainly hope so!" He responded with a sigh
and paused a long moment before continuing.

   "We are certainly willing to allow for the possibility that you are not
that same person after a college experience." He finished his thought in a
more optimistic tone.

   "Thank you sir!" Maybe there was still hope, I thought.

   "How would you say you have related to men in connection with dating,
during your junior and senior years of college, and since then?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, Miss Glenn, were your contacts with men in social or dating
situations generally pleasant for both you and the men?  Or would you say
these experiences were antagonistic?"

   "I socialize easily and most of my friends call me an extrovert!" As I
said this I knew that it was glib, and not entirely responsive.

   "That is not what I asked!" He was nearly shouting at me now.  After a
pause he continued in a calmer tone.

   "I have also interviewed some of the men you have dated, and some men
who wanted to date you and were rejected.  What I learned does cause me
some concern."

   "What did they say sir?" "They said you seemed to delight in putting men
down, that you would only date guys who were extremely handsome and
popular, and that you seemed to well ..." he paused, "find, how shall we
say, the ones that also had a hidden submissive side!"

   I was stunned!  How could he possibly know these things about me?  Even
my best friends did not know this about me!

   "Also", he continued, "it was said that you were vicious in the way you
would humiliate men you did not want to date, and that men you did choose
to date were usually treated badly when you tired of them!"

   I thought fast.  How could I strike just the right tone and maybe make
my vice seem like a virtue?

   "I will not deny any of it sir.  I believe though, that some of my past
behaviors could be viewed as signs of an aggressive character.  If I can
smooth out some of the rough edges, such a character trait could actually
help me in a future management role!" I paused for effect and to observe
his reaction.  He indicated with a wave of his hand that He liked what he
was hearing and wanted me to continue.

   "I think I can grow out of my past 'bitchiness', if you will, and put
those aggressive traits to good purpose if I am given a chance here at
Masterson Automotive."

   "You just said the magic words, Miss Glenn!  He beamed!

   "I am impressed with your resourcefulness that you know how to sell a
negative as a potential positive!" This he uttered with an expansive sweep
of his hand to show just how much effective my words had been.

   He waited to be sure I would hang on every word.  I was excited to think
I had possibly snatched victory from the jaws of defeat!  Maybe I was still
in the running!  He continued.

   "I am also impressed with your honesty" he continued "that you would so
easily acknowledge the truth of what was said about you!  I will tell you
that, if we were to make you an offer, you would be in a level 3 position
and you would be reporting to Tom Jenkins, head of Accounts Receivable."

   After another twenty minutes of more routine questions, Mr.  Gregory
announced that the interview was concluded and that I would be contacted
within a week or two with the company's decision.



   Chapter 2.  The Slaver As A Young Man

   Earlier today my partner and I, together with staff, celebrated the
twentieth anniversary of the founding of the William Steelforth Agency.  A
second cause for festivities was that 2136 was promising to be a banner
year for the firm.

   Our celebration caused me to reflect on just who I, William Steelforth,
had been as a young man, what my values had been then and since, how I
developed an early interest in slavery, and why I eventually founded a firm
to earn my living doing something I not only believe in, but also enjoy!  I
was never an egalitarian, even in my high school days, since I always
believed that people were essentially unequal in every sense.  The founders
of the United States erred, in my judgment, in building a nation on the
principles that all people should be equal before the law and equal in the
voting booth.

   But things were starting to change.

   In 2089, three years before I was born, our nation, now called
Capitallia, had been formed by 38 states seceding from the old United
States.  All this had happened because of a civil war over the issues of
taxation, the voting franchise and slavery.

   The new nation had started by adopting a constitution very much like
that of the U.S.  There were two very significant differences however.

   The first was encoded as the Servitude Article of the new nation, and
provided that Congress might pass slavery laws or indentured servitude laws
which would be constitutional, not only as a punishment for crime, as in
the United States, but also as a means for the satisfaction of debt.  The
article also provided that Congress might pass laws establishing voluntary
servitude or slavery, i.e.  a man or woman might sell himself or herself
into bondage.

   The second was encoded as the Citizenship Article.  Its effect was to
deny universal suffrage in favor of a restrictive definition of
citizenship:

   Section 1.  Citizenship in Capitallia shall be a right that must be
earned by demonstrating appropriate knowledge of basic principles of
government, and by paying a citizenship tax that shall be apportioned
equally among all citizens.  No person who has not attained the age of
twenty-five years may become a citizen.

   Section 2.  A person who is not a citizen shall not be entitled to vote,
serve on a jury, own real estate, own a business, own or carry a firearm,
or sue or be sued in the civil courts of the nation's judiciary.

   Section 3.  A person who is not a citizen may be required to carry or
wear an identification device that shall provide for positive ID, remote

   tracking, and public display of his or her status.  Such device must be
presented to any officer of the law upon demand.  Such person shall have
only such rights of personal, financial, or medical privacy as Congress
shall see fit to provide by statute.

   Section 4.  Administrative tribunals, with limited appeal rights, shall
be established to resolve disputes by or against persons who are not
citizens.

   The Congress soon passed legislation to implement the Citizenship
Article and within a few years after the founding of the new nation the
number of citizens had been reduced to about half of the nation's adult
population.  This was to set the stage for still further developments that
would make the nation even less egalitarian.

   Congress was also under pressure from the very beginning of the new
nation to pass legislation implementing the Servitude Article.  At first
Congress passed laws that only allowed for 'indentured servitude' for a
limited number of years.  Indentures

   whether voluntary or for debt, could be bought and sold, but it was said
that the person could not be bought or sold.

   Only a few years after the Citizenship laws were passed Congress had
enacted the "Community Labor and Debtor Restitution Act".  I would have
been only a few years old at the time this was passed.

   The purpose of this law was to provide some relief for creditors by
indenturing the insolvent debtor for a term of up to eight years, or until
he or she had worked off the debt, whichever came first.  The law also
allowed a man or woman to indenture himself or herself voluntarily for up
to eight years in exchange for some valuable consideration, such as payment
of medical expenses of a loved one.

   The debtor's indenture belonged to his creditor in the first instance,
and could be sold to others.  It was said that the indenture could be
bought and sold, but not the person.  Nevertheless many young women and men
wound up having their indentures sold to brothels.

   My own first experience with prostitution happened the year I started
high school.  Prostitution had been legal for some thirty years by then.

   The laws, for some time, had permitted boys as young as 14 to enjoy the
services of licensed houses of female prostitution if accompanied by their
father or male guardian.  My first two visits were with my dad.  The
minimum age for a girl wishing to enjoy a male prostitute was 16, and only
if accompanied by her mother or a female guardian.

   On my first visit I was 14 and accompanied by my father.  This was some
11 years after the "Community Labor and Debtor Restitution Act" so that,
while there may have been a few voluntary prostitutes, most of them, at
that time, were serving the public on a strictly involuntary basis.  Many a
young woman, indentured for debt, or convicted of some crime, ended up
being forced to serve the public sexually, in either a public or private
brothel.

   The supply of women available to brothel operators was plentiful and
their cost was low, and accordingly the prices charged to the customers
were quite reasonable compared to what prices had been for such services
when all prostitution had been voluntary!  .  Perhaps best of all, or so I
thought at the time, was the fact that these new involuntary prostitutes
had no right of refusal.  They must serve all customers, and in whatever
way the customer desired!

   It seemed just to me that young people should work off their debts in
this way if that is where they were most needed, and just also that the
most productive members of society should be able to enjoy themselves by
patronizing such establishments.

   While kinky services were probably available even then, my father
thought it best, for my first visit, to sign me up for a very conventional
intercourse experience.  I never was informed, on that occasion, if the
woman who serviced me was there on a voluntary or involuntary basis. 
Perhaps my father did not want me to dwell on that aspect of prostitution
at the tender age of 14.  What really mattered to me then was that I was
going to enjoy my first fuck!

   A year later I talked my father into taking me again.  This time I was
all keyed up on the idea of enjoying a woman on a non-consensual basis.  I
asked my dad if special arrangements could be made.  I wanted to be certain
I would have the opportunity to fuck, not just any woman, but one who was
paying her debt to society for, say some white collar crime!  I wanted a
chance to read her file first and learn something of her sexual history and
what was the crime for which she had been sentenced.  That would make
fucking her much more of a thrill!  It was!

   I can remember a rather heated discussion I had, in my senior year of
high school, about servitude ideas with Mr.  Maxwell, my high school civics
teacher.  My teacher had given a rather impassioned lecture about the evils
of our law that legalized a limited form of slavery.  I went back to his
classroom at the end of the school day.

   "You wanted to see me about the homework, Bill?" My teacher glanced up
at me from his desk expectantly.

   "No sir," I replied.  "I really wanted to talk to you about what you
said in class today." I hesitated.  "What I mean is, you said you had some
serious objections to that law, you know, the one about indentured
servitude."

   "Go ahead Bill." He shifted in his chair and looked more interested
already.

   "I just don't get it!" I blurted out.  "I thought it was a pretty neat
law!  Our family gets its grass cut, its cars washed, and snow shoveled,
all for next to nothing!  We even have a maid to keep the house tidy.  Dad
says we couldn't afford any of these things before the indenture laws!  And
all my friends think it is a cool law too!"

   "Don't you ever think of the rights of the people who are indentured?"
My teacher responded, in his patient teacher voice.

   "Well yeah, I guess I think of that sometimes.  But these people need to
pay their debt to society, or to their creditors, so they really gave up
their rights when they committed a crime, mismanaged their money or sold
themselves to pay for medical care!!" "Some of us would argue," he pointed
out in a calm even tone, "that there are certain rights no person can give
up or have taken away!  Even if he or she is hopelessly in debt, or has
committed a crime!" The prime examples would be the right of a person to
life, to liberty, and to the pursuit of happiness."

   "Sir," I replied with excitement, seeing the possibility of a rhetorical
victory, "would that mean that a man who is too poor to feed his family or
pay for his family's medical care, for example, should not be able to sell
himself into slavery, in exchange for financial support for his family?"

   "That had always been one of the core beliefs of our forefathers!  It is
in the Declaration of Independence of the United States.  It was the law we
all lived under until radical revolutionaries brought about the secession
of our state and 37 others from the U.S.  just a few years before you were
born.  You realize not all of us agreed with the secession, but we lost out
to the radicals."

   "But Mr.  Maxwell, what if the man dearly loved his wife or his child
and one of them needed an operation that cost well beyond the amount of
money he could ever earn in wages as a free laborer?  Should he have to
watch his loved one die because he cannot raise money by selling or
indenturing himself?"

   "Bill, listen to what I am saying!  The man should not be faced with
such a choice in a civilized society.  Medical care is a basic right, and
society should pay for this man's loved one to have the operation if he
cannot pay himself." My teacher was beginning to show signs of impatience
with my argument.

   "If medical care is a basic right," I replied "doesn't that mean that
some of us must give up quite a bit of our 'liberty' and our 'right to
pursue our own happiness' in order to pay for someone else's medical care?
Isn't that a form of slavery in itself?" I felt I had him there.

   "Sometimes we have to make sacrifices, Bill.  If a woman, for example,
has to indenture herself just to live, or to pay for her child's operation,
she can hardly be equal to other citizens in any sense, can she?" He seemed
to feel he had me there.

   "Why should we even care" I boldly questioned "if everyone is equal in
political, social, or legal terms?"

   He looked shocked at my statement.

   "Sir, you seem to be saying we should go back to the egalitarian ideas
of the old United States.  Did that nation not, in effect, allow the
slothful and the willfully uninformed to have a huge voice in determining
who the national leaders would be and how the tax dollars would be spent? "
I was on a roll.  How could he possibly counter my argument?

   "Bill, when you create a class of people who don't have all the same
rights as the rest of us, you create the conditions for that group of
people to be terribly exploited for their labor and even for sex!  Surely
you have heard about all the young women who are forced to serve the public
sexually?"

   "But why is any of that a problem sir?  Maybe certain people deserve to
work long hours for low wages or even make themselves useful in sexual
ways! That may well be the best way, or the only way, that people with no
special skills can earn their living or repay their debts!" I certainly
wasn't going to share with my teacher the fact that I had enjoyed
non-consensual sex services myself at the age of 14 and again at age 15!

   "Bill, I have papers to grade.  Let us continue this discussion another
time."

   He turned back to his work and when I left him I had the distinct
impression that I had made the better argument.  I did not try again to
pursue these ideas further with my civics teacher, but continued to think
about them for the next few years.

   To be candid, my early interest in slavery was due to the very sexual
possibilities it opened up!

   During my high school years, I was pleased to see that laws were passed
implementing Section 3 of the Citizenship Article, requiring all
non-citizens to conspicuously wear electronic bracelets or necklaces.  It
was fun to be able to see at a glance who was a Citizen and who was not.

   At that time I was not yet eligible for citizenship since I was only
nineteen.  Congress, however, had excused all persons under the age of
twenty-five who had no brushes with the law from wearing the degrading
bracelets.

   It soon developed that non-citizens had little privacy.  Any citizen who
wished to do so could scan their electronic bracelet, learn that person's
identity, and even pull up quite a substantial file on that person. 
Congress had not, however, chosen to declare the medical and financial
records of such persons to be publicly available.

   When I was about 19 I had my first opportunity to visit a house of
prostitution as an adult and to really choose what I wanted from the full
menu of services.  I found that one of the services available to me, as a
paying customer, was that I might sexually dominate a young female
prostitute during my time with her, if I wished.  I could even have a rape
like experience if I so desired.  I did not choose to avail myself of this
option.

   I did have advance information that a certain Suzanne Metzker, a girl I
once knew in high school had been for a year or more indentured in this
particular brothel.  And that she had had many customers during that year.
I knew what shifts she worked and what fees her employer charged customers
for her services.

   This girl, when she was in high school, had gone out on several dates
with me.  I was just interested in her for sex.  I tried to get her to go
down on me but she thought that was a filthy practice.  She was also
pushing for a more serious relationship than I cared to have with her.  So
she had broken off our budding relationship.  I had missed the sex for the
rest of my senior year.  I thought it would be rather pleasant to hire her
services now!  I knew that she had no legal right to refuse me now, but I
would not force her.  I would have enough pleasure just seeing her suffer
the loss of face in my knowing that she was now a public whore!  If she
didn't want to serve me now I would dismiss her and choose a different
girl.

   It was likely, of course, that Suzanne could ill afford to reject me
now. She would need all the customers she could get to make satisfactory
progress paying down her debt and thereby winning back her freedom.  Also
the brothel had a policy that if a customer was not satisfied by one of
their girls and had to choose another, the first girl would lose one half
of her total credits for that week.  That made it very expensive indeed for
a girl to send away a customer unsatisfied.  I felt quite sure that Suzanne
Metzger would now, finally, be taking my penis in her lovely mouth.

   I had to wait some time for my appointment with her as she was
entertaining another customer when I arrived.  During this time I struck up
a conversation with another customer, a young guy about my own age, in the
waiting lounge.  He introduced himself as Charles Witherspoon, and I
responded, introducing myself simply as Bill.

   "Are you waiting for a session, Mr.  Witherspoon?" I asked, just to make
conversation.

   "Not at all.  Call me Charlie please.  I just had an incredible session!
Right now I am just waiting for my traveling companion to finish his
session so we can leave." He seemed to fairly glow with satisfaction and
pride.

   "What was so wonderful about your experience Charlie?"

   "Her name was Vicki Rogers, a hot number.  To really explain, Bill, I
need to go back a few years to when Vicki and I were both high school
students.  Say, if you have some time to kill, they have an exquisite
Merlot here!  Would you have a glass with me?  I'll buy!"

   That seemed like an attractive offer, so I accepted.  He signaled to a
cute waitress who promptly came over and took our order.  I could not help
but admire her tanned and toned legs in the very short micro skirt she was
wearing.

   "I had one date with her then," Charlie continued.  "I never even got to
first base.  Two days later, when I called for a second date, she acted
like I was some kind of creep!  The next thing I knew Vicki was spreading
lies about me, that I had exposed myself to her and tried to force myself
on her after she said no!"

   "Did you ever find out why she did all this?" I was genuinely curious
now.

   "Maybe someone in her clique got to her and she felt she had to redeem
herself in their eyes," Charlie replied.  "Soon all the girls had heard her
story and no one wanted to lose face with the other girls by dating a guy
like that!  She totally humiliated me and trashed my reputation."

   "Was that the end of the story?" Just then our leggy waitress brought
our wine.  We each took a glass, then Charlie continued his story.

   "It was the end of our high school encounter and any chance I had for a
social life back then.  But just a few days ago, while surfing the net for
prostitutes, I discovered her listing.  There was her name and photo, and
the name of the high school we had both attended, so there could be no
mistake that this was the same girl.  The notice said she had been
indentured to this brothel only a week ago."

   "What was your reaction on learning this?" I leaned forward eager for
his response.

   "I thought that there could not be anything more delightful than
indentured servitude!  This fantastic new legal system was going to give me
the opportunity to pay her back at last for the sexual injury she had
caused me, and to pay her back in a sexual way!"

   "Here, here!" I said, then "To Servitude!" as we clinked glasses.

   "This girl had not only rejected me in the ordinary sense, but had
crushed me with her supercilious disdain, ruined my name with her libelous
stories.  She had taken something precious from me.  Now I wanted so much
to take something precious from her.  I wanted sexual justice!  Could there
be any better way to obtain that justice than by raping her?"

   I was seeing his point all right, even though I doubted I could follow
through with a scheme like his even if I had been injured as much by a girl
as he had been.

   "Could there be any better justice than to mount her slender nakedness,
not by her consent, and penetrate her most private parts!  I wanted the
pleasure of violating her!"

   "So what did you do?" My curiosity was overcoming me.

   "I called the brothel and learned that she had not had any customers as
yet, and was still a virgin.  I hinted at the fact that I was eager to have
a rape experience with this particular girl."

   I sat on the edge of my chair.  He had certainly got my attention with
this tale.

   "The brothel manager indicated that newly indentured girls are nearly
always reluctant to begin their work as prostitutes.  He felt sure that
this one, based on her known attitude and personality, would probably be
completely unwilling to be fucked by her first customer!  I told him that I
would pay triple if I could be that first customer, and if I could have her
restrained in advance for my pleasure.  The manager agreed to my terms."

   I now saw that he probably had succeeded in carrying out his sexual
vengeance here today.  Doubtless this was what had caused that glow of
satisfaction I had noted in him at the beginning of our conversation.

   "When I entered the session room, Bill, I found they had secured her in
a spread eagle position on a leather padded bench known as a 'fucking
bench'.  Her legs were widely spread and secured to adjustable struts
extending out to the sides.  There were electric motors that could extend
or retract these struts.  There was a bolster to raise her pelvis and lock
her hips from moving to either side.  Also there was a belt around her
waist to insure she could not lift her pelvis up from the bolster.  Her
arms were secured to the side of the table.  She was naked, except for
panties, and also blindfolded.  All was exactly as I had requested of the
manager.  I had requested that her panties be left on so that I might have
the pleasure of removing them."

   I was intrigued at his scenario.  I even thought of doing something like
that with my session and the girl I had known in high school.  I could, of
course, if I chose to do so.  But I did not have that much anger in me.  I
rejected his scenario for my own use even while generally approving of it
for him.

   "I had specified the blindfold because I wanted to heighten her anxiety
by keeping her in ignorance, at first, of who the person was that would now
be taking liberties with her body.  I resolved to say nothing at first so
that she could not recognize me by my voice.  I proceeded to examine her in
a leisurely manner.  Her body was toned and well defined from her years of
gymnastics and dance training.  I let my fingers trail over all the
different parts of her.

   I had the satisfaction of glancing at the graphical screen which was
displaying results from her digital bio implant.  It showed me clearly that
she was experiencing both fear and anger at her violation!  It showed me
which parts of her brain were most active!  So I continued to toy with her
to see if I couldn't raise these readings still higher.  I experimented to
see if I could shift the focus of her brain activity to different regions.
She first demanded I desist.  I did not.  Then she demanded to know who was
doing this.  I said nothing."

   I realized that I could perhaps emulate this part of his scenario as a
kinky way to begin my own session, even though I would give my girl a
choice about the actual sex.

   "After enjoying myself in this silent way for perhaps fifteen minutes, I
spoke to her about how much pleasure I was having.  I asked her if she
recognized me from my voice.  She could not, though she admitted the voice
sounded very familiar.  I took her blindfold off and inquired if she now
recognized me.  She was shocked and her previously demanding manner changed
now to fear.  She knew she had wronged me and that I might now take my
reprisal.  I began the delicious pleasure of unveiling her privates,
lowering her panties an inch, then enjoying the view as her curly pubic
hair became visible, then another inch, then more view to enjoy, and so on
until I had them all the way down below her crotch.  Then, using my pocket
knife, I cut them and removed them altogether."

   It occurred to me that I could do this gradual unveiling of Suzanne
Metzger's genitals in much the same way Charlie had with his girl.

   "By now, Bill, I am hard with my excitement.  I tell her that her most
private parts are about to be penetrated and enjoyed by a male she had
wronged a few years back.  I mount her and ease my dick into her warm soft
feminine parts that would deny me entrance if they could.  I feel the
tightness of her vagina, the gentle pressure of her labia pressing against
the sides of my penile shaft."

   I am getting hard myself just listening to him describe his sexual
vengeance!

   "I thought about touching the electro control that would bring her long
firm slender muscular thighs together, so that I might also experience the
tensing of those firm leg muscles against my own.  But then I thought it
would be more of a thrill to make her do it herself through the control of
her brain I could exercise through her bio implant!  I experienced the
delicious pleasure of viewing and touching the long slender arms and
delineated clavicles of this creature, as she bucks under me and tries so
hard to dismount me from her privates.  I am also mindful of the pleasure
of the coitus itself as I piston in and out of her unwilling feminine
sheath."

   This account of a delicious and sensual rape is getting me so hot that
precum has moistened my briefs!

   "I enjoy the ultimate pleasure of watching her face turn red with shame
and humiliation as she realizes that she is lubricating copiously and that
her bucking is no longer to dislodge me but to experience for herself the
pleasure of the fuck.  She is now giving me the gift of her own sexual
response to being raped, a gift she would give anything to withhold from
me, but cannot.  She sees on my face that I am fully conscious of her
unwiling response and that I am enjoying that gift immensely.  This is the
moment I reach my peak and shoot my seed into her womb.  At last I pull out
with delicious sensations in my head and in my loins.  I had a rush of such
a nature as I had never experienced before!"

   I rose to my feet and high five'd him!  Damn, I liked this man's style!
We exchanged business cards so that we might get together in the future and
share experiences.

   After some time I had to bid him adieu as I was informed that Suzanne
Metzker was now ready to serve me.  The manager informed me she would be in
room 106 waiting for me and handed me a pair of keys.

   "One is for the door to her room, sir.  The other is for her handcuffs
and ankle restraints.  You see it is standard policy now, after the 'Act',
that indentured prostitutes are restrained when they await their customers.
You are free, of course, to dispense with those restraints during your
session with her if that is your pleasure."

   As I walked down the corridor to her room I began to speculate what
Suzanne's reaction would be on seeing the guy whose advances she had
rejected in high school now appearing here as her customer and master.  The
social inequality would be simply delicious.  That would be the best part
of the whole brothel experience!

   I unlocked the door to her room and found her scantily clad and
restrained hand and foot.  She recognized me at once.  I sensed some
embarrassment in her having a fellow student from her high school see her
under these circumstances.  Indeed the readout from her digital biometric
implant confirmed that she was then experiencing acute embarrassment.  I
made no move to free her from her restraints.  Instead I pulled up a chair
so that I might converse with her for a while.  I asked her to tell me how
life was in the brothel and how she was getting along there with the other
prostitutes.

   I made it clear to her that I would not force her.  And as I predicted,
she was not too proud to service me.  She said she hoped I would let
bygones be bygones and that she needed my business.  I explained to her
exactly what sexual services I desired, and that I would require her to
provide these services while remaining handcuffed.  She consented to this
as well as the sex.

   After I had enjoyed her sexually for about an hour, I was inclined to
relax and socialize with her - further enjoying the social inequality of
the situation.  I had a couple of beers sent in and we both sat down.  I
had dressed by that time but she was still naked as I had not given her
permission to put any clothes on.  She still had her hands cuffed in front
but was still able to hold and drink her beer.  At my request, she began to
tell me the story of her life after high school and how she came to be
indentured for debt.  I was fascinated!  I began to suspect that she had,
in fact, been wrongfully imbonded based on trumped up debts!  Indeed the
graphic display of data coming from her biometric implant told me that she
was telling me the truth!  At that point I felt justice required I restore
her to some dignity, so I unlocked her handcuffs and bid her put her
clothes on to continue the tale.

   We talked for another half hour and then I took my leave of her and the
brothel.

   Despite my own rather pleasurable experiences with her, I was beginning
to question the injustices that often seemed to take place.  She had
clearly fallen, perhaps through no fault of her own, to a social class much
lower than my own.



   Chapter 3.  The Slaver's Career

   Here I will lay out how I, William Steelforth, progressed from the
unqualified slavery enthusiast I was in high school to the qualified
slavery advocate I had become as managing partner of the agency which bore
my name.

   After high school, the next opportunity to have an animated exchange
about my ideas with a teacher came in a discussion with Professor Petersen,
my philosophy teacher, in my sophomore year of college.  Unlike my high
school civics teacher, he was actually a proponent of slavery.  But the
kind of slavery I had heard him advocate in the classroom was rather harsh
and indiscriminate.  I approached him one day in his office.

   "You wanted to see me about something, Bill?"

   "Yes sir.  I was glad to hear you speak favorably about our slavery
laws, but I wondered if you had considered the injustices that are probably
going on?" I watched to see his reaction.  He seemed curious but cautious.

   "Bill, there are always going to be some minor injustices with any new
law.  The important thing is we are no longer coddling debtors and felons.
There is a fundamental kind of justice in punishing the felon by making him
labor for others, instead of others (taxpayers) being made to labor to
support him (in prison).  There is also a kind of rough justice in not
letting the insolvent debtor off the hook through bankruptcy laws, but
rather make her provide her labor or her sexual services to the public, if
she has no other way to make her creditor whole."

   "But Professor, why could we not refine our new law to insure that every
enslavement would be a just enslavement?"

   "What is your definition of a just enslavement, Bill?"

   "For a debt enslavement to be just," I said, "there would have to be
proven failure, fraud or wrongdoing, and not simply a run of bad luck that
could happen to anyone.  The law should bear equally on all without regard
to race, gender, religion, or national origin.  There would need to be
careful fact checking by the Court so that no false claim against a debtor
could succeed.  There would also have to be some limits on the nature of
the enslavement imposed by the Court so as to provide proportionality
between the fault of the debtor and the duration and intensity of the
punishment to be imposed!"

   "Bill, you are making a mistake in thinking that the primary purpose of
debt enslavement is to punish.  To be sure the debtor will experience it as
extremely punitive, but that is incidental.  The real purpose is to force
the debtor to make the creditor whole even if extreme measures are needed
to realize that goal.  Whether the debtor simply had a run of bad luck, or
was guilty of some fault makes little or no difference.  Either way we want
to make his or her creditor whole!"

   "But sir," I replied, "the 'Community Labor and Debtor Restitution Act'
allows the creditor to take possession of the debtor's person for the
duration of the indenture and to direct him or her in such labors as he
might see fit.  Few if any restrictions are placed on the nature of the
labor that could be required under these indentures!"

   "And your point is?" he glared at me.

   "What about forced prostitution?  Is that just?" I had enjoyed that
service myself on several occasions but was beginning to have some doubts
about the ethics of it.

   "Bill, in many cases that would be the only valuable service a young
person with no special training or work experience could provide that would
have any realistic possibility of discharging his or her debt.  Remember
restitution is the goal, not punishment.  I don't think most people would
be particularly troubled if a young person were forced to pay off his or
her debt by providing sexual services to the public.  Keep in mind that
society today has developed pretty relaxed attitudes about sex and
prostitution.  It doesn't carry the stigma it once did."

   "I take your point Professor.  Perhaps we can continue another time.  I
will be late to my next class if I don't leave now." I took my leave.

   I studied the various systems of slavery throughout history,
particularly the Roman system and the system in the American south prior to
our Civil War.  I much preferred the Roman system as it was not racially
based, and any person, citizen or not, and regardless of race, sex,
ethnicity, or national origin could be enslaved for just cause.  I had many
discussions about all this with my college philosophy professor.  With his
help I began to formulate my ideas for what would constitute a decent
system:
Despite the fact that many debts were being paid off and the public was
enjoying new sexual possibilities, there were business interests that were

not satisfied with this system of limited indentures.  One day my
philosophy professor let met know about an upcoming symposium, called
"Slavery for Today and Tomorrow", to be held at the university with panel
discussions in which both academic types and business leaders would hold
forth on how our present system of indentured servitude might be improved.

   On the day of the event I found myself in a gathering of people who were
in a very good mood.  I ran into George, a friend I knew from biology
class. He explained to me why everyone was in such a good mood.  It seemed
that the corporate sponsors of this gathering had wanted everyone to be
happy and relaxed for the panel discussions.  So they had decided that each
attendee should be provided with an attractive prostitute to see to his or
her sexual needs during the conference.

   On checking in each person was given a ticket for an assigned seat in
each of the forums, a 'privacy blanket', and a lockable steel collar with a
number on it matching the assigned seat number.  As the attractive young
lady at the checkout counter handed George and I our blankets and collars
she explained how the system worked.

   "All you do, gentlemen, is wander the hallways here where you will see
hundreds of indentured prostitutes on display, each one naked, handcuffed
and attached by a chain to a wall stanchion.  When you find one you fancy,
lock the collar around her neck, marking her as your 'property' for the
duration of the symposium.  Then go to your first forum.

   "Within about ten minutes one of our guards will have found the neck
locked girl with your seat number on her collar, and will bring her, still
handcuffed to you.  How you choose to use her for your sexual pleasure will
be entirely up to you.  Most of our past attendees have chosen to receive
fellatio, with the girl kneeling under the privacy afforded by the blanket.
But if you wish to engage in sex more openly, that will be your choice. 
Or, if you prefer, we do have private rooms available for nominal rent.  If
you so request, the guard who brings your girl will give you a room key and
charge your account."

   "But what if she won't do what we ask, or even runs away?" George wanted
to know.

   "Don't worry about that!  Each of these girls has had at least 6 months
of rigorous obedience training!  And she knows only too well what the
consequences would be should she displease one of our conference
attendees!" The checkout lady said this with a sly grin.

   As George and I walked through the corridors there were, as the lady had
said, hundreds of indentured and chained prostitutes, both male and female.
At first we passed only males, and we noted some of the female conference
attendees were looking them over rather closely.  One lady was weighing, in
the palm of her hand, the scrotum and balls of a guy with a washboard
stomach and very defined musculature.  A little further on we saw a long
row of female prostitutes.

   Just then I saw a chained and very slender body, but couldn't quite see
the face yet.  When the girl turned I recognized Julie, a girl who had been
in my English Literature class last year.  She was drop dead good looking,
but always had her nose in the air.  She seemed to think she was above
everybody else.  I never dreamed I would ever see her naked.  Maybe I could
have some fun with her now.

   "Julie!  Do you remember me?  I was the guy from English Lit class last
year you wouldn't go out with.  Apparently your circumstances are quite
different now!  I would like to hear how you wound up chained to this
wall!" She could not meet my gaze.  "I lost my job as a waitress toward the
end of last year.  I missed some payments on my student loan.  When the
bank found out I had no income they demanded payment in full of my entire
loan.  I could not pay it, so they indentured me for 4 years for my debt!"

   She was still looking down and not meeting my gaze.  I wanted to study
her face.

   "Look at me Julie!" She finally met my gaze and, as she did so, I
reached out with my right hand and cupped her vulva, all the while studying
her face.  I saw a tear form and start to trickle down her face, even as my
fingers were exploring her pubic hair.

   "I think that now that you are indentured, you might serve me well as a
cock sucker!" As I said this I proceeded to lock my collar upon her neck.
Her face now turned red with humiliation.  My friend George was playing
with the breasts of a girl a bit further on and soon had his collar locked
on her neck.  We then proceeded to our first forum.

   The first was a panel on the legal aspects of servitude, how to make
indentures 'appeal proof' and how to make sure you have good title to a
person whose indenture you buy at auction.  The leaders of this panel were
a professor of commercial law and a couple of practicing attorneys.  We had
not been listening to this panel for more than ten minutes when a guard
brought our prostitutes to us.  We both draped blankets over our laps and
bid the girls go down on their knees and fellate us.  It was most
deliciously pleasant to have these sensations to enjoy even as we listened
with interest to the panel.  We would make the girls slow down or stop
whenever there was danger of a premature climax.  We wanted to make this
pleasure last all day if possible!

   Of course we took our girls and our blankets with us to the next panel
discussion with the convenient leashes attached to their collars.  This
panel was led by CEOs of pharmaceutical and plastics companies.  Their
concern was how to protect proprietary processes, trade secrets and the
investment they make when they put a new hire through an extensive
technical training program.  They had always had the problem of losing the
training investment whenever a new employee would quit after a short time.
Worse than that was the problem of that employee going to work for their
competitor and taking with them their knowledge of trade secrets.  The new
indenture system was giving them a fairly workable solution to the training
investment problem.  But it was no answer to the trade secret problem.  I
nearly shot my load into Julie's mouth during this discussion, but managed
to hold off.  Julie did get a few drops of my pre cum on her tongue. 
George did have his climax.

   Another panel was led by Certified Public Accountants.  They bemoaned
the fact that young staff accountants frequently would come on board for a
few years, acquire much confidential knowledge of the finances of the
firm's clients, then leave the firm, taking all that confidential
information with them and peddling it to the client's competitors.  Now
Julie was very gently massaging my scrotum and testicles with the tip of
her tongue.  It was delicious.

   The most interesting panel of the day was about the growing prostitution
industry, and was led by CEOs of firms in those enterprises.  Their
complaint was that young prostitutes, after working there for a time, would
be in a position to betray the business and its clients by selling to
newspapers the names of the firm's clients.

   Equally serious was the possibility that they might reveal details
concerning the sexual peccadilloes of a particular client, much to the
latter's embarrassment!  As I heard this I knew I wanted even more control
over Julie.  I squeezed Julie's nostrils closed with one hand while I
forced my penis to the very back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex.
She soon found that she could only breathe when I retracted my penis
slightly.  I found it very pleasant to control her breathing in this way!

   What the businessmen in all three of the foregoing industries really
wanted were employees they could train and keep as captive labor for the
employee's entire life!  They wanted 'employees' who would never be free to
leave their employment!  They wanted to, in effect, 'own' their employees!
With these thoughts in my mind, I could hold back no longer.  I shot a
plentiful load of semen into Julie's mouth.  I forbid her to swallow it
quickly, but insisted instead that she swirl it around her mouth and tongue
and fully experience the taste.  The speaker went on about the need to
either replace or supplement the system of limited indentures with a system
of full chattel slavery.  At the conclusion of the prostitution panel, the
day's formal activities were over and the same guard who had brought Julie
earlier came to take her away.  He promised I could have her again the next
day.

   The second day of the symposium was devoted entirely to the question
"How Do We Achieve Our Objectives?"

   As I entered the auditorium a few minutes late, pulling Julie by her
leash, and found my seat, a rather tall distinguished looking man was
holding forth at the podium.  I later learned his name was Robert Dexter of
Dexter Pharmaceuticals.

   "I think we all know what kind of system would best address the concerns
expressed in our panels yesterday." Mr.  Dexter fiddled with his notes. 
"But to achieve such a system we must have public support and getting that
may depend on what name we give to our system.  I propose that we not call
it 'chattel slavery', as some have suggested, as that sounds too harsh and
conjures up images of the past where masters whipped slaves and broke up
families by selling members one at a time.  Surely, gentlemen, we can
achieve our goals without resorting to that sort of thing!

   There was a loud round of applause and cries of 'Here, here!' I had
Julie sitting on my lap this time, the better to explore her nakedness! 
When things got quiet again, Mr.  Dexter continued.

   "We have had, for a year now, a committee working on this problem of how
to sell our system.  What they have come up with is a concept called
"Kinder and Gentler Slavery".  We may even be able to sell this as less
harsh than the present system of indentures, even while we are making the
slavery permanent!  The trick would be to call attention to the human costs
of family disruption under the present system, and the effects on a spouse
and children when the primary breadwinner must serve for many years without
pay!  " I began with Julie by gently caressing her long slender legs.

   "We slave owners propose to contract with the public" Mr.  Dexter
continued "to provide humane conditions for our slaves, including a
commitment not to whip or break up families, a commitment to provide good
medical care for the slave and his immediate family, and a decent
retirement for each slave.  You all received a leaflet outlining the key
points of the new proposed system

   There was an undercurrent of murmuring at this.  My fingers were now
busy in Julie's crotch, testing the resiliency of her pubic hairs,
inserting my index finger in her vagina, while using my thumb to gently
stimulate her clitoris.  I was beginning to get a sexual response from
Julie, which she would very much like to have suppressed.  Finally a woman
rose to her feet and asked for the floor.  I knew her as manager of a minor
chain of bordellos.  The presiding officer gave her the floor.

   "What I want to know is how are we in small business possibly going to
be able to provide these idealistic benefits?' She took her seat.

   "Basically costs are covered by having your industry association offer
group insurance.  It is all explained in the leaflet you all received as
you came in."

   After some further discussion of the pros and cons, a resolution was
passed giving the sense of the symposium in favor of the new proposal.  The
second day was nearly over.  and the guard came again to collect Julie.

   I was so excited about this new system of slavery that we had all agreed
to promote to the public that I just had to put my hard dick into something
soft and feminine.  Julie was available and fortunately had nothing to say
about it.  Her vagina was mine to enjoy if I wished to do so.  When the
guard came to collect her I asked instead for a private room.  There I
slipped my penis inside Julie and reveled in her subservience!

   In the weeks that followed, the leaders of the pro slavery movement
appeared on various TV interview shows to get the widest possible exposure
of the new plan.

   At the end of the day, the public bought the new idea.

   By the time I got out of college the Congress had passed the "Criminal
Punishment and Debtor Satisfaction Act" bringing back the institution of
chattel slavery and providing that a Court might enslave a person either as
punishment for crime or in satisfaction of a debt owed to a plaintiff
creditor.  Criminals, once enslaved, would become, in the first instance
the property of the government, later to be sold at public auction to the
highest bidder.  Debtors, once enslaved, would become, in the first
instance, the property of the plaintiff creditor to use in any manner he
might think appropriate, and ultimately could be sold at public auction
should the creditor so choose.

   Although Capitallia had legalized total slavery, the public seldom saw
naked slaves being paraded through the streets, as was often the case in
earlier slave owning societies.  This was because the new nation had
carried forward most of the ideas regarding public nudity, exposure of
children to nudity and 'lewd public acts' held by advanced societies for
centuries.

   Paradoxically, however, it was believed that forced nudity might be an
effective form of shame punishment to inflict on slaves and criminals,
provided that such displays took place in semi public settings where only
adults who had chosen to view such spectacles need observe.

   With all of these developments I could see the direction my career
should take.  There would be a need for bright and aggressive people to
work as 'slavers agents'.  After working a few years for another firm, I
had the financial ability to start my own agency.

   During these early years I became aware that it wasn't just slavery that
made people unequal in our society.  The delicious inequality that I so
enjoyed was also a feature of the class system with its distinctions
between citizens and non-citizens.

   There was some upward and downward mobility between classes.  A person
born as a non-citizen might, with considerable diligence, earn his or her
way up to being a citizen.  Similarly, one born as a citizen might, with
considerable neglect of responsibilities, fall to the status of
non-citizen.

   For all this mobility the class system nevertheless offered special
privileges and pleasures to citizens.  For example, during the early years
when I was establishing my agency I had to get to the office early one day
for a meeting with a potential financial backer.

   As usual I had taken the maglev train from my suburban home to the city,
there to catch a personal transportation (PT) capsule to my office.  The
train ride had been relaxing and had given me a chance to catch up on some
reading.

   As I stepped off the maglev to the platform I looked to where the PT
capsules queued.  There had been only one remaining.  I had rushed to it
and noted that a rather attractive young woman was going to beat me.  It
was plain that she was not even a citizen by the conspicuous non-Cit
identification bracelet around her slender wrist.  No citizen would be
required to wear such a bracelet.

   "Citizen's privilege!" I shouted at her, but she did not yield to me as
she was required to do by law.

   Her failure to defer to me had caused my blood pressure to rise, the
muscles of my neck to stand out and my shoulders to tense up.  It had been
more than just irritating since I believed such rudeness would cause me to
be late to my meeting.  I pointed my cell phone at her bracelet just before
she entered the capsule and touched the "Identify" icon on the screen. 
Immediately I had her name, photo and federal ID number on my display.  I
then touched the "Save" icon.  This sent her key access data to my personal
computer at the office.  I could later use that data, at my leisure, to
pull up any and all information about her that might be in publicly
accessible government files.  This might help me decide whether or not to
prefer charges.

   I saw her speed away in my PT capsule and steeled myself for a wait of
possibly up to fifteen minutes before more PT's would be available.

   In spite of reaching my office late, my meeting with the backer was
successful.  After the meeting I decided to look up information about the
non-cit who had taken 'my' PT this morning.  Failure of a non-cit to yield
to a citizen was a misdemeanor punishable by up to 90 days in jail.  I was
amazed at the wealth of publicly available information I could pull up
about her with just that federal ID number.  Nothing as private as
financial or medical records, of course, since she did have some privacy
rights even as a non- citizen.  I could, however, learn her credit history,
her criminal record (if any), her educational background and her current
employment (if any).  And there were hundreds of photos of her taken by
public surveillance cameras including photos of her in a bikini at the
beach.

   I decided that I would press charges, at least for now.  She would be
entitled to an administrative hearing of course.  I would have to present
some evidence to back up my complaint.  I thought the video clip I had
captured on my cell phone camera would be sufficient to get her convicted.
But what I was really hoping for was that she would come to my office to
contritely apologize and beg me to drop the charges.  Perhaps she could
express her contrition in a sexual way.  That would be sweet.

   ******************************************************** Our agency has,
since its inception, been in the business of scouting out persons who were
insolvent and could therefore be enslaved and who also had some talent or
youth or beauty to make it all worth the trouble.  Our service also has
included hiring a local attorney in the jurisdiction where such debtor
lives, and working with that attorney to achieve a successful enslavement,
then delivering the 'merchandise' to our client.  Our clients have tended
to be predominantly nationwide or international corporations.  We have done
some work for wealthy individuals as well.  For the last five years our
largest single client has been a nationwide prostitution service.

   Throughout the years I have always insisted we maintain the highest
ethical standards.  I believe I know right from wrong when it comes to who
should be enslaved and who should not be.  My relationship with my clients
has always allowed me to exercise discretion in such matters.

   During the early years of my practice enslavements were generally
straightforward and not too difficult to achieve.  All my team had to show
was that the debtor owed over $10,000, was not able to pay it off within
three years and that we were the sole creditor.  But gradually the courts
expanded the rights of defendants in such proceedings.  It was held that a
defendant might present a defense that he or she would be worth more to the
creditor free than enslaved.  The plaintiff would then have to prove the
contrary.

   Then the courts began to develop a doctrine that defendants had a right
to play to the sympathies of jurors by presenting highly personal
information about themselves.  They could, for example, discuss their fear
of enslavement and their insecurities or anxieties in general in court as
they wished.  Finally there was a case where the male defendant asked the
judge if he might present to the jury testimony of his masturbatory habits
and his fear that, if enslaved, he might be denied masturbation.  The judge
saw it otherwise, the jury enslaved the man, but the appellate court
nullified his enslavement.

   In the case of Madison v.  Bielman the appellate court held that
defendant had been prevented from exercising all of his rights to a
creative defense and denied the fullest possible opportunity to try to win
the sympathies of jurors.  Double jeopardy attached, so there could not be
a new trial and the man was set free.

   Another aspect of the Bielman ruling also worked to the advantage of
defendants who planned to present themselves naked at trial.  That was a
requirement that prospective jurors who might object to hearing highly
personal testimony from or about the defendant must be excused from
serving. The court held that no juror could be forced to hear about
masturbatory practices if that went against the juror's own beliefs. 
Defense attorneys were only too happy to challenge such jurors for cause.
The end result was that the empanelled jury was likely to be far more
sympathetic to the defendant than would otherwise have been the case.

   These legal developments had made my job quite a bit more difficult.  We
had to work harder, but we were still successful in enslaving most of the
people we went after.

   As my practice grew I saw the need to bring in a partner.  At first I
took on a male partner.  My workload eased up considerably.  One day I was
reviewing some of his cases and discovered that he had enslaved a young
woman apparently for no other reason than his own desire to fuck her!  What
was particularly disturbing was that he had apparently created fictitious
debts for her in order to force her into insolvency.  Neither the court nor
the defense counsel had caught this.  I could see that there was a woeful
lack of procedural safeguards in this new debtor enslavement industry!  Of
course I fired this partner.  I did not approve of his conduct on both
practical and ethical grounds.

   I found myself looking for another partner to replace the fired one. 
Not being gay or bisexual, I did not enjoy the male enslavements as much as
the female ones.  The thought naturally occurred to me that if I had a
female partner she could handle the male enslavements and leave me free to
spend all of my time on female enslavements and indentures.

   I pursued my contacts within the industry and eventually came up with a
promising candidate.  I called her in for an interview.

   "Miss Johnson, perhaps we could begin by your telling me of how you
became interested in slavery and why you chose this as your profession?"

   "Well Bill, if I may call you Bill, I suppose I developed an interest as
a little girl.  The idea that some people would have the right to own and
control other people always intrigued me!  It was only fitting, after all,
that people of inferior ability, mentality or moral status should serve
their betters!" This would make for a just world, assuming, of course, that
the right sort of people were enslaved and that the right sort of people
became their masters!"

   "Miss Johnson, I was hoping you would say just that.  It is very
important to me also that only a certain sort of person be enslaved, and
that all enslavements be legally just." I described to her the experience I
had with the male partner and why I had to fire him.

   "I understand Bill.  That is the way I feel also."

   "Part of my purpose in taking on a partner," I said, "particularly a
female partner, is to be relieved of the need to do male enslavements
myself.  So I would want a heterosexual female as my partner.  The law
allows us to do a "Creditor's Examination" of any debtor once we have made
a satisfactory prima facie case and the debtor has been bound over for
trial.  This exam typically includes not only the debtor's financial assets
and liabilities, but also the debtor's person.  Our clients nearly always
want us to do this so that they have early information as to the debtor's
potential value on the auction block.  So we do a complete physical,
including sexual response testing."

   "If we give our client a completely favorable report on the debtor's
body," I continued, "accompanied by photographs, and the debtor is reported
to the client as responding well to sexual stimulation, then the client
will typically give us carte blanche to pursue the case.  This allows us to
hire private investigators if needed, or to hire jury consultants if
indicated.  If the debtor's body is not so desirable, or he or she has
shown poor response to sexual stimulation, the client may give us a very
limited budget."

   "Miss Johnson, if you come on board with us, I would want you to
concentrate almost entirely on the male enslavements and the male
Creditor's Exams, and to enjoy doing so!  If I never have to look at a
penis again or weigh a man's balls in my hand, it will be too soon!  So I
need some reassurance from you that you are heterosexual and that you will
enjoy the work I have in mind for you.  That will allow me to concentrate
on my first love, which is enslaving females who deserve this fate!"

   "I am heterosexual Bill, and you will find me quite enthusiastic about
my work!" I am looking forward to those exams!"

   And so the firm continued to grow and prosper up to the time of our
celebration.



   Chapter 4.  Stephanie's New Job

   Two weeks had passed since my interview.  I had just about given up hope
of landing the job at Masterson Automotive when the phone rang and it was
Jeff Duncan.  He offered me an entry level position in their accounts
receivable department and named a starting salary that sounded good.  My
department head would be Tom Jenkins, while my initial training supervisor
would be a Miss Watson, assistant head of the department.  It was agreed
that I would report for work the following Monday.

   On Monday I went to my job dressed in attire more modest than what I had
worn to the interview.  I wanted to play it safe.  I had noted during my
interview visit that most of the female employees were wearing quite
conservative attire.  I did not want to draw hostile glances on my first
day.

   I waited in the reception area with a sense of mounting anticipation.

   "Hello, Stephanie Glenn I presume?  My name is Vicki Watson.  You will
be working closely with me.  Tom is in meetings all day today so you
probably won't meet him until tomorrow.  I will take you to our department,
but they are painting the hall we would normally use today, so we will need
to take an alternate route, cutting through the observation mezzanine of
the company's gymnasium."

   We went up a flight of stairs and walked down a long corridor to where
there was a set of double doors where she hesitated.

   "If you aren't entirely comfortable with male nudity you may want to
avert your eyes for this next bit.  You see we are doing pre employment
physicals for non-citizens in the gym today.  If you choose to look down
over the railing you will see perhaps a hundred naked applicants of both
sexes being examined, assembly line style."

   "But what about the indecent exposure law?  Doesn't that apply here?"

   "Not at all.  Since we are a private employer we can simply waive that
on company premises.  We just have to take care that no children or non
consenting adults see these naked applicants."

   I was amazed at this revelation.  I followed her through the double
doors and tried my best not to look.  But I couldn't help myself.  It
wasn't every day I got to see naked men!  Some of those guys were very well
hung!  I felt sympathetic to the men and women I saw who were being
stripped of all dignity as they were herded like cattle from one examining
station to the next.

   "Why aren't they examined individually and privately, as I was?"

   "Stephanie, you are a citizen, so we were obliged to respect your
dignity.  These people are not citizens so we owe them no such
consideration.  It is more efficient for the company to examine them in
this manner, whatever the cost to their dignity!  We are doing them a big
favor just to let them apply for jobs here!" If we give them a job, however
lowly the position, they can generally avoid being picked up for vagrancy
and make enough progress paying down their debts so that some creditor
doesn't enslave them!  "That could really happen?" I had heard of slavery,
of course, but I thought it was only imposed as a punishment for crime.

   "Yes indeed!  Creditors want, and are entitled to, satisfaction under
our laws.  Many nonCits fall into slavery every month, while some of the
more fortunate ones manage to earn enough money to qualify for citizenship.
There is both downward and upward mobility.  Being a non-cit is not a
condition of birth but a status one falls into by not being or remaining
productive enough to achieve or maintain citizenship."

   I had learned something new, that non-citizens could be enslaved for
debt.  Fortunately citizens, myself included, did not have to worry about
that!

   Eventually we got through the gym, went down another hall to the area
she indicated was our department.  She showed me the cubicle that would be
mine, and introduced me to June and Lacy.  These two would be my colleagues
in the department.

   "I understand you have experience doing general ledger work through
trial balance.  That being the case, you should have no difficulty doing
the kind of reports we usually give to new accountants in this department.
To begin, you will be working with June in the preparation of a report on
receivables for the division head."

   With that she left me with June to get started.  After several hours
working on the project June suggested that I might join her and Lacy for
lunch.

   "We are going to a café called the 'Garden Club' here in the building
where some of the more broadminded employees have their lunch and enjoy a
bit of entertainment at the same time.  So, if you don't have any serious
hang-ups about nudity, why don't you come with us!  I think you will find
it quite an experience!"

   I agreed to try it and followed them to the center of the building where
we entered a private courtyard with lush greenery and a fountain and quite
a few tables set out where people were dining.  What immediately shocked me
was that, standing next to many of the tables where patrons sat, there were
waiters and waitresses that were, except for steel collars around their
necks, completely naked!

   They all appeared to be physically fit.  They were obviously explaining
menu choices and taking orders.  We proceeded to sit down at one of these
tables and soon a male waiter approached.  He placed a bowl of fragrant
soapy water on our table and some small cloth napkins.  I wondered what
that was for and asked him.

   "Since you are new here I will explain.  It is 'hygiene water' which we
waitstaff place on each table in case a patron wishes to touch us.  Would
each of you young ladies like to start with a glass of our best house
wine?"

   "I'm sorry, I stammered, could you please repeat the question?" My two
companions laughed out loud.  June was in stitches, her shoulders shaking,
and her knees bouncing up and down with her belly laughter!  In truth I
hadn't even heard his question because I was totally preoccupied looking at
his penis.  It was almost at my eye level and only a little more than a
foot away from me!  It was of impressive size, though flaccid.  And it was
circumcised.  The glans had a purplish hue.  Below it was a low hanging
scrotum containing two very impressive balls!  I made a conscious effort to
raise my glance to meet his glance.  Suddenly I became aware that my face
was red as I realized he had noticed where my eyes had been.  We all agreed
to his suggestion and he left us to get the wine.  Lacy opened her eyes
wide as she looked at me, taking in my embarrassment, and then she tossed
her hair with a quick flip of her head, as if to say 'better get used to
it, honey!'

   As I looked around I noted that female waitresses were generally waiting
on male patrons while males were waiting on females.  Some male patrons
were intimately touching some of the waitresses.

   "I know the company can waive the indecency laws on company property,
but how do they even get guys and gals to do such humiliating jobs?" I
asked.

   "Simple.  Notice the steel collars around all the young necks!  The
young college kids you see here waiting tables have all been enslaved by a
court, either as punishment for a crime or as restitution to a creditor for
debt.  They work naked here because their owners have ordered them to do
so! It is intended to be a humiliating punishment for them as no free
person would volunteer for such work!"

   I was well aware of just how strong the taboo in our society was against
a person appearing naked before members of the opposite sex.  So I had no
doubt that the humiliation was very real indeed!  I had heard of sex
slavery before, of course, but had never experienced it so up close and
personal!

   Just then our well hung waiter returned with our wine.  As he stood next
to Lacy to present her a glass, I noticed that she had placed her hand on
his muscular buttocks and was drawing him in closer.  Then, with her other
hand she began playing with his genitals.  I was shocked to see this going
on in a restaurant!  Presently he became partially erect and I noticed some
pre cum forming on the tip of his penis!

   Lacy seemed satisfied that she had been able to procure such a reaction
and proceeded to wash and dry her hands using the 'hygiene water' and small
towels he had earlier provided.  I thought how humiliating it must be for
him to actually invite such intimate touching by providing, in advance, the
means for a customer who so indulges to clean herself!

   "Why don't you fondle him a bit Stephanie?" Lacy stated as she finished
drying herself.

   "I would not feel comfortable doing that.  It is not that I am a prude,
or that I wouldn't enjoy it under other circumstances.  But the involuntary
nature of his service would trouble my conscience if I were to indulge.  I
don't believe sexual slavery is right or decent!  I think we should not
take advantage of another's misfortune!"

   "Well hello 'Miss Holier Than Thou"!  Do you think you are better than
June and I?

   "Leave her alone Lacy.  She just sees things differently than we do. 
Perhaps in time she will become comfortable with sexual slavery, as most
people eventually do.  Then she will be able to indulge herself right along
with us!"

   After our lunch the three of us returned to our department, just in time
for the weekly staff meeting called by the division chief.  The meeting
took place in the Emerson Library.  I was introduced to all present.  After
much routine business, the meeting adjourned.  Miss Watson came by to check
on how I was settling in and whether I had any questions about the report
June and I were collaborating on.  Soon it was time to go home for the day.

   The next day Miss Watson introduced me to the head of our department,
Tom Jenkins.  He was a portly and not very attractive man.  He kept me
standing in front of his desk for some time while he fiddled with various
documents.  He kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

   "You are to be complimented on your very professional mode of dress,
Miss Glenn.  Some of our new female hires try to impress the male managers
by wearing short skirts to work.  I see you have exercised better judgment
than that." His eyes seemed to sweep up and down my figure.  I had the
distinct feeling he was undressing me mentally.

   "Thank you sir.  I am glad you like my outfit." In truth I wished he
would move on to talk about things other than my physical appearance.  He
was beginning to creep me out.

   "I will be leaving for Europe tomorrow.  It will be a month long trip
where I will combine business with pleasure.  I trust that you are getting
along just fine with Miss Watson, who will be your interim supervisor."

   It was a statement, not a question.  After a few more pleasantries he
indicated that our meeting was over.  I was disappointed in his rather curt
manner and wondered just what sort of boss he would prove to be.  Still I
was getting on all right with the assistant department head, so perhaps
things would work out anyway.

   During the weeks that followed I made steady progress with my report and
gradually gained more confidence as I learned my way around all the people
with whom I needed to interact.  I did experience some discomfort on
learning that Lacy was talking to many of my co-workers about the incident
in the Garden Café.  She was convincing a lot of people that I was a prude
because I would not touch the waiter's genitals!  She and June were no
longer inviting me to join them for lunch.  I wasn't comfortable going back
to that place where I had so embarrassed myself, so I started bringing a
brown bag lunch.

   Miss Watson eventually assigned me a project that June thought should
have been given to her.  June then started putting it about that I must be
sleeping with one of the male managers to get such a choice assignment! 
The corporate atmosphere was becoming decidedly more hostile to me.

   The month was soon up and Tom Jenkins returned from Europe.  If
anything, he was more portly than before his trip.  I was really turned off
by his appearance.  After a couple of days he called a staff meeting and
announced that Miss Watson would be leaving us effective immediately. 
Everyone would be reporting to him directly.  Also he announced that,
largely on his recommendation, the company was starting a new tradition of
casual Fridays.  All employees would be given extra time to make use of the
company's gym and swimming pool on Fridays to maintain physical fitness. 
There would be poolside refreshments served every Friday at mid afternoon.
All employees would be expected to dress casually.  Jeans or even shorts
would be acceptable dress.

   The first casual Friday I chose some jeans that fit me loosely and a
modest top.  Jenkins made some crack about my "excessive modesty" and
suggested I needed to get more into the spirit of things.  He also asked me
out for a date.  I declined politely, indicating that I was currently
involved with someone else.  I hoped he would accept this.

   Then he began to pick on my work on the slightest pretext.

   When the following Friday rolled around I decided perhaps it would be
harmless to humor him a bit so I wore short shorts and a sleeveless short
halter top as many of the other women in the department were doing on
Fridays.  He seemed very pleased.  He made no secret of the fact that he
liked my body.  His hands began to wander where they shouldn't go.  He
touched my bare shoulder and traced my collarbone.  I pushed his hand away.
He again asked for a date.  I felt I needed to put him down firmly this
time so as to discourage any more attempts.  I made it clear to him that
there could be no physical relationship between us since I wasn't attracted
to him in that way.

   Around mid morning he called me into his office for a private conference
on my latest report.  He instructed his secretary that there were to be no
interruptions, then closed the door.  He motioned for me to sit next to him
on the sofa he kept in his office.  I was a bit uncomfortable with the
intimacy of this considering how scantily I was clothed.  He groped one of
my breasts.  I slapped his face.

   "Keep your hands off my body!" I screamed at him.

   "You better watch your attitude, Miss Glenn, if you want to keep your
job!" He said this with a growl.

   Not daunted, he began to fondle my left leg.  That really was too much!
My legs weren't for the likes of him.  I felt way above him in the sexual
pecking order of things.  I needed to defend my status by keeping those
hands off my body.  I pushed his hand violently away from my left leg, then
I slapped his face real hard, forehand and backhand.  His pride was clearly
stinging as well as his face.

   "That does it bitch!  Go pick up your final paycheck!  You don't have a
job with this company or any other company if I can fix it!  "

   I go directly to Human Resources and file a sexual harassment claim. 
Jeff Duncan interviews me about my harassment claim.  Paul Gregory, the
company shrink, also interviews me.  I find that I am still fired despite
my claim of harassment.  Many weeks go by and it becomes clear the company
will not investigate my claim.



   Chapter 5.  Petition for Enslavement

   Unemployment took its toll.  After approximately three months of not
being able to make a mortgage payment or pay down any of my credit cards,
unpleasant things began to happen.  First, the finance company came and
repossessed my car.  I received notice from the bank that my home faced
foreclosure if they did not receive at least two months payment by the end
of the month.  Charges had begun to appear on my credit card statement for
merchandise I had never purchased!

   Since I was a little girl, my favourite way to fight depression was
physical activity.  Cheerleading and tennis had done that for me in my high
school and college days.  Since then I had continued to play tennis and as
a result, had remained physically fit.  It didn't hurt also that I had
competed in the Boston Marathon again this year, winning second place this
time!  My slender and toned body was one of the few things I could feel
good about these days!

   My ultimate nightmare began one day last June.  I had just finished a
game with Becky, one of my regular partners.  My pulse rate was high.  It
was a hot day and I was feeling tired, as I towelled off the excess
perspiration.  But I was also exhilarated.  I had won two sets out of
three! Just then I saw a man I had never seen before on the tennis courts.
He was a tall and very muscular fellow dressed in a business suit and
holding a clipboard.  He walked directly toward me until he was only a few
feet away.

   "Are you Stephanie Glenn of 301 Rosewood Circle?"

   "All day long," I responded, somewhat flippantly.

   "I am officer Fred Jones, official process server for the District Court
for the State of New York.  I am here to serve you with some legal papers,
and I need a signature from you right here" he said as he thrust the
clipboard at me.

   "What if I don't want to sign this?"

   "Lady, all your signature means is that you acknowledge receiving these
papers from me.  We can do this the easy way or the hard way.  If you don't
give us any trouble it may go smoother for you with the judge."

   I made a conscious effort to breathe.  With my fingers starting to
tremble, I signed where he indicated, he gave me my copies, and I saw him
walk back to the parking lot and drive off.

   My eyes now began to focus on the document.  In bold type right across
the top it said "PETITION FOR ENSLAVEMENT OF DEBTOR".

   Becky had walked up to stand next to me and also saw that heading.

   "Why do they need your help with an enslavement proceeding, Steph?

   "Give me a minute Beck." I had a dawning premonition about this.

   "Is the debtor someone you know?"

   My eyes had just landed on the block on the form where it identified the
debtor whose freedom was now placed in jeopardy.  It showed my name and my
address.  My voice was starting to choke up and my hands now shook
uncontrollably.

   "I am the debtor in question!"

   "There must be some mistake!  They have you confused with someone else!"


   "There appears no mistake Becky.  They have my name and address on the
form, my correct date of birth, my social security number, my most recent
employment, and a list of debts that appear to be mine.  The plaintiff is
some outfit called Richmond SlendaBond Ltd."

   "Do you know this company Steph?  Did you ever do business with them or
borrow money from them?" "Not at all.  Never heard of them before."

   "How can they do this to someone of your class Steph?  I mean I have
heard of bankrupt debtors being stripped of their freedom before, but
normally it is only some guy or gal from the lower class.  They don't have
all the same rights we do you know!  Surely you can fight this, can't you?"

   "I hope so Beck.  I surely hope so.  I will try to find a lawyer first
thing tomorrow." I became conscious that tears were now streaming down my
face.  I felt that I was slipping into a state of shock.

   Of course, I had no money to pay a lawyer, but I applied at the Court
Clerk's office and the Court assigned me a Michael Green.  I had my first
meeting with him a week later:

   "Miss Glenn, you have asked me if, in my professional opinion, the
plaintiff, Richmond SlendaBond Ltd, could actually take away the freedom of
someone of your educational attainments and social class.  While I cannot
predict what the outcome of your particular case will be, I can tell you
that there is a widespread misconception that it is only lower class
debtors who can be forced into servitude.  This is actually not the case."

   "So you are telling me that I actually can be enslaved?" My heart was
pounding.

   "Indeed yes" the lawyer continued.  There are no distinctions of class
in the law when it comes to servitude proceedings.  Anyone owing more than
ten thousand dollars to a single creditor and unable to pay can be placed
into bondage by the Court or a jury - male or female, young or old, prince
or pauper."

   "But you said Richmond SlendaBond Ltd was the plaintiff in this matter.
Why don't they just take my property?" I wailed.  "Why would they want to
own me?" He smiled at me, apparently amused by my naiveté.

   "Your lovely body would seem the most obvious reason, my dear!  Those
slender, well tanned, and lightly muscular legs of yours would give any man
a desire to gain complete control of you!

   I noticed where his eyes were focussed and I struggled with little
success to pull my short skirt down.  I wanted to give him a piece of my
mind for his impertinence, but realized I had few options but to try to get
along with him.  I could afford no other attorney.

   "Who is this Richmond SlendaBond?" I asked incredulously.  "I never
borrowed money from them.  Why are they the ones coming after me?"

   "They have bought up all your debt from your various creditors.  They
are now your only creditor.  They are the parent company of Skelly Girl
Enterprises, a prostitution service that is well known for catering to
business and professional men.  Does that answer your question?" I nodded
my head.  I again made a conscious effort to slow down my breathing as the
implications of that sunk in.

   "Can you defend me?" I pleaded.  "Do I have a chance against these
people?"

   "Yes I can defend you" he replied in such a tone that I could only wait
for the other shoe to drop.  "But I must inform you there is a high risk
that we will not prevail.  Petitions of this type succeed more often than
not, since the debtor defendant always has the burden to prove that she or
he should not be enslaved.  That requires proving that she or he would be
more of a financial asset to the creditor as a free person than if forced
into involuntary servitude!  In other words we would have to prove that the
plaintiff is pursuing the case out of ignorance or for purely vindictive
reasons.  In your case young lady, with no job and no immediate prospect of
one, we probably can't meet our burden, considered purely as a matter of
law.  But there is another way you might save yourself."

   "Please sir, just tell me what else I need to do."

   "We should ask for a jury trial.  There will be 12 jurors.  Since your
freedom is at stake, they must vote unanimously, just as would be true for
a criminal case."

   "That sounds encouraging!"

   "Yes, but you need to keep in mind that the burden of proof for the
plaintiff is much less than in a criminal proceeding.  All he has to do is
show that you owe him more than ten thousand dollars, that you have no
reasonable prospect for paying off that debt in a timely manner, and that
the only way that he can obtain satisfaction of this debt is by taking
possession of you!"

   "You probably will lose your freedom as well as any personal property
you may have.  Better get your affairs in order now!"

   "Surely there must be another way to beat this thing?"

   "Yes but I hesitate to mention it because of the way you reacted when I
stared at your legs a few moments ago."

   "Whatever do you mean sir?"

   "I mean that even if the plaintiff makes a perfectly adequate proof that
he is entitled to take your person, you can still appeal to the sentiments
of the jurors.  They have an absolute right, under the doctrine of jury
nullification, to set you free, regardless of the law or the evidence
against you." It is simply a question of setting up a situation where they
will want to give you your freedom."

   "How do we do that?"

   "By having you appear as sympathetic as possible to them.  By having
them identify with your fears and care about what will happen to you.  We
must make them want to free you!  But this may well entail giving up quite
a bit of your psychological privacy!" I wasn't sure I liked where this was
going.

   "Your trial won't be coming up for another two months, but there is a
more immediate matter that we will need to tackle.  A preliminary
evidentiary hearing in your case is scheduled for next week.  The purpose
of this hearing will be to determine if the court should bind you over for
trial.  The plaintiff need only present plausible evidence that he is the
sole creditor and that you owe him $10,000 or more.  We can try to get the
case tossed at this hearing but it is likely the plaintiff will prevail."

   "What if I am 'bound over' for trial?  What does that mean?"

   "First it means we will have to argue for you to remain free on bail
until the trial.  Many young men and women facing the possibility of
enslavement do have a tendency to flee the jurisdiction."

   "But I have no money for bail!" By now tears were rolling down my face.

   "I can try to get you freed on your own recognizance.  There is a good
chance the judge will go along with that since you are a professional
person of good character.  But then there is the matter of the "Creditor's
Examination".

   "What is that?"

   "In the old days it meant that a debtor might be ordered by the court to
submit all financial records to the creditor for his examination, and to
give testimony under oath to the creditor concerning those finances.  Now
it means all of that plus the fact that the debtor, in this type of
proceeding, is also ordered to present himself or herself to the creditor
for an intimate examination of his or her person!"

   "Does that mean my b-body?" I had a growing premonition of utter shame
ahead.

   "Yes!  You will probably find this examination most humiliating.  In
addition the plaintiff will make you testify under oath as to any evidence
you have that might rebut his evidence at trial."

   "But why does the law require this?"

   "Because the creditor is entitled to make some advance assessment of
what his chances of prevailing at trial would be and what you would be
worth to him should the enslavement be successful.  That could mean what
price you might bring when exhibited naked on the auction block, for
example!  This advance assessment is useful in determining whether he
should proceed with the case and spare no expense, or should perhaps
consider cutting his losses by offering you some sort of long term payment
plan in lieu of enslavement."

   "And what about your fee?  How much and how can I possibly afford it?" I
practically croaked.

   "You can easily afford my basic fee, and if there are extras we will
work something out."

   With that we ended our first meeting.

   The following week we went before the judge.  My attorney had me sit
next to him at counsel table.  I got my first look at the people who were
trying to take away my freedom.  When the judge called the case and asked
for identification of the parties, I learned that the plaintiff's agent was
a Bill Steelforth and that the man with him was the attorney for plaintiff.
My attorney advised me that Mr.  Steelforth was the owner of the William
Steelforth Agency, a reputable slaver's agent.

   My attorney was not able to get the case tossed at this preliminary, and
I was bound over for trial on my own recognizance.  The plaintiff asked
that I be remanded to custody pending trial, but the Court ordered,
instead, that I might be free on my own recognizance but must have an
electronic tether device attached to my left ankle.  This would make it
easy for authorities to track me down should I attempt to flee the
jurisdiction.  I had never before felt so unfree as when the bailiff placed
that device on my ankle, cinched it tight and locked it beyond my power to
dislodge it.  The judge had told me it was made of hardened steel so that
it would be impossible to cut it off!

   The hearing was adjourned.  As my lawyer and I walked down the
courthouse steps, he indicated that he had something on his mind.

   "Miss Glenn, have you decided yet whether you will take the witness
stand in your own trial and let me ask you a whole series of embarrassing
questions about your fears of enslavement?"

   He watched my face closely for my response.

   "I think probably my answer is going to be no.  I just think it would be
too humiliating!"

   His face registered his disappointment.

   "Then there is something I will need to show you that may bear on your
decision."

   He gestured for me to follow him.  After a walk of four blocks we came
to a large outdoor arena enclosed by a wooden plank wall.  A very large
sign on the wall said "New York City Municipal Slave Market".  We could
hear much raucous shouting, jeers, applause and laughter coming from inside
the arena.  There was a smaller sign over the entrance we were approaching
which I could just make out.  It said "Nudity Inside.  Only adults who will
not be offended will be admitted here!" There was someone at the door
checking the Ids of younger people to see if they were 18 or older.

   I did not feel too comfortable about entering a place such as this.  But
my lawyer was very insistent.  As we entered the enclosure we saw that many
people were crowding up to an elevated stage area.  My attorney kept
pulling me forward until the two of us were close to that sawdust covered
stage.  There were naked men and women on that stage wearing iron collars
and with numbers written on their bare buttocks, and on their foreheads,
apparently with a black grease pencil.  All of them had their hands cuffed
behind their backs and were wearing leg irons.

   One in particular, a man, was standing on a raised block above stage
level.  In spite of my horror at the overall scene, I could not help but
notice that he was a gorgeous guy, perhaps 30 years or so in age.  He was
slender of build, and very well muscled.  I noted his broad shoulders and
well developed pectoral muscles and biceps.  My eyes travelled down to his
groin.  He was circumcised.  I noted his very long and moderately thick
penis, and his impressive low hanging testicles.

   "Do I hear twenty two thousand?" a man I took to be the auctioneer
called out in a loud voice.

   "Twenty two thousand, five hundred!" A feminine voice in the crowd
answered.  "Do I hear twenty five thousand for this great specimen of
masculinity?" The auctioneer cried.

   "Let us see if his stuff works first!" Someone in the first row cried.
Other people called out "hear, hear" to that.

   The auctioneer signaled to his assistant, a young and attractive woman.
She came forward wearing black leather gloves and a tight fitting black
leather outfit that left her arms, legs and midriff bare.  She was tanned,
had a very flat abdomen and looked like she worked out regularly.  She used
the tip of a riding crop to lift the slave's penis and to flick it this way
and that.  But it remained flaccid.  The auctioneer gave a second signal to
his assistant.  With that she went behind the slave and began to slice at
his buttocks with her crop.  The crowd could see the man wince with each
stroke.

   "How cruel that is!" I remarked to my attorney.

   "Not as cruel as it looks.  They are administering a fairly mild form of
discipline because he is being rebellious in not showing the crowd his
erection.  He has committed the sin of pride.  That is not permitted to
slaves.  She is not striking hard enough to cut him or leave welts.  She is
striking him because he is a masochist and the gentle whip strokes will
arouse him in time, however much he might prefer not to show the crowd his
erection!"

   I soon observed the truth of these remarks with my own eyes!  That penis
was growing stiff and pointing straight out toward the crowd!  The crowd
loudly cheered.  The auctioneer's assistant then came around in front of
him again and flicked that penis left and right using the tip of her crop.
This made it plain to the crowd how hard the slave had become.

   "Let us see him climax!" Someone in the third row shouted, and others
shouted their agreement.

   The auctioneer nodded to his assistant.  She took her gloves off and
began to gently touch his genitals.  He looked mortified.  She cradled his
ball sack with one hand, then put lubricant on her other hand and began to
stroke his penis.  Soon she was rewarded with a few drops of pre cum, which
only those in the front row could see.  After a few more minutes he began
to shoot copious strings of semen that fell on the sawdust floor.  His face
was red, and his humiliation was complete!  The crowd roared its approval!
The auctioneer's assistant smiled, took a bow and retreated to the back of
the stage!

   I felt my nipples grow hard and my vulva grow moist!

   "Do I hear thirty thousand?" The auctioneer called out.

   "Forty thousand!" Shouted an attractive young woman in the third row.

   "Forty two thousand!" Shouted a matronly lady in the second row that I
took to be about 45 years old.  The young woman in the third row looked
crestfallen.  Clearly her limit had been reached.

   "Going once!  Going twice!" The auctioneer banged his gavel.  "Sold to
the lady in the second row!"

   Two guards stepped forward and marched the slave to a holding pen on one
side of the stage where sold slaves were kept until their new owners could
claims them.  The auctioneer then called for the next slave to be
auctioned. It was a very attractive young woman who was trembling with
fear. I did not want to stay and watch her humiliation.

   My lawyer looked intently at me.  I was embarrassed.  I worried that he
could see right through me.  I felt that he might perceive that I had been
sexually aroused by what I had seen.  "Do you understand why I brought you
to this place?"

   "To teach me what slavery is?" I said with some uncertainty.

   "Quite right.  I hope that it has occurred to you that, if we lose your
trial, it could well be you standing on that stage in a few more months! 
It could be you who has to entertain that crowd with your sexual responses
to an auctioneer's crop while men bid for the right to own your body!"

   "Wh-What do you w-want from me?" I stammered.

   "I want you to agree to take the stand and let first me and then
opposing counsel question you in detail about your most secret thoughts and
feelings about enslavement!  My goal is for us not to lose that trial and
expose you to the kind of humiliation you saw here today.  After all, what
is a little mental privacy sacrificed in the defense of your freedom?"

   He looked me straight in the eyes.

   "Let me think about it.  When do I have to decide?"

   "You can make that decision at your trial.  I will ask you then and the
judge will ask you."

   We parted and I did not hear further from him for some weeks.

   Three weeks after that I received an "Order for Creditor's Examination"
signed by the judge, directing me to present myself on a date certain,
together with any financial records, at the offices of the William
Steelforth Agency.  The Order also stated "the female defendant is ordered,
in preparation for this examination, to shave off excess pubic hair around
her genitals in accordance with the enclosed diagram." Clearly the
plaintiff had petitioned the court in such a way that I was not permitted
to shave myself completely but must leave some pubic hair that would adorn
but not conceal my sex.  I cried and cried at the implications of this.  My
attorney agreed to accompany me for this exam.

   On the appointed day, my lawyer and I went to the agency where Mr. 
Steelforth courteously escorted us into a large conference room and we were
soon joined by plaintiff's counsel and a court reporter.  I was required to
take an oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  At first
they asked to see my financial records and they asked me some questions
about my finances.  They then asked what defenses I planned on making to
their suit and to present any evidence that I had in support of such
defenses.  It was all part of the "discovery process" as my lawyer
explained.

   Then the moment I was dreading arrived.  I was asked to undress
completely and submit to a physical examination by Mr.  Steelforth.  I did
not want to undress for this man who was trying to take my freedom away.  I
also felt embarrassed at the idea of my own lawyer seeing me naked.  And I
had no doubt these men would see plenty because of my court ordered pubic
haircut!  I began removing my clothes and folding each item neatly on the
conference room table.  It seemed strange to be undressing in a conference
room rather than in a doctor's office.  And in front of a rather handsome
businessman in a three piece suit.  The hardest part was when I had to

   push my panties down in front of this man, step out of them and place
them on the pile with my other clothes.

   Mr.  Steelforth then had me turn this way and that, and assume various
attitudes and positions, so that he might assess my 'auction appeal'.  I
felt the palms of his hands and his fingertips touching various parts of my
body.  I was about to object but my lawyer gave me a warning look.  Then he
undid the clasp that was holding my hair in a ponytail and he ran his
fingers through my hair, apparently enjoying its silkiness.  I was then
asked to open my mouth wide while he shined a flashlight inside my mouth
and tested the soundness of my teeth with his fingers.  At one point he
used his fingers to lift my tongue so that he might see underneath it. 
After a time he asked me to stand on a small pedestal with my legs well
separated and he pulled up a stool and sat with his face directly in front
of my crotch!  With his thumb and index finger he then began touching my
labia and pulled them apart to see that which they normally concealed.  I
knew that he could then see every detail of my vulva!  I felt my face and
breasts flushing with my humiliation.  And whether I liked it or not my
nipples had become quite erect from all this stimulation.

   He then brought out a diagram of what he called "a generic vulva".  He
began comparing my vulva to the generic one and making notes on the
differences and measuring the overall length of my slit and the length of
my clitoral hood and recording these measurements!  I was fully displaying
my most private female parts to this man, and to the others present in this
room!  I could sense the eyes of each person in the room focused upon my
crotch!  I started to cry!  Tears streamed down my face at the
irretrievable loss of my genital modesty.  They had all seen my most
intimate and sexual parts displayed for their edification!

   Of course he did not miss the opportunity to go behind me, order me to
bend forward while he spread my buttocks apart, peered at my anus for
awhile, no doubt also enjoying the rear view of my vulva.

   Just when I thought things could not possibly be any more humiliating, I
was told that I must masturbate for Mr.  Steelforth's further edification.
I shot an appealing glance at my lawyer, begging him with my eyes to object
to this latest outrage.  His hard look told me I must go along with the
program.  So masturbate I did!  I was required to do this on the conference
room table where everyone could have a good view!

   I thought at first that I could get away with just going through the
motions and fake my climax.  But Mr.  Steelforth had been in the business
of examining slaves and potential slaves for many years and he said he
could always tell when a young woman was faking.  Finally I gave up all
pretence and masturbated for real bringing myself to a real climax.  They
all saw it and the aroma of my sexual secretions filled the room.  I wanted
to sink through the floor!

   Finally Mr.  Steelforth gave me permission to put my panties back on. 
It was only then I learned that he had videotaped my masturbatory
performance for the edification of his ultimate client, a person or
organization as yet unknown to me!

   While I sat there bare breasted and with only panties on, he asked me a
series of embarrassing questions about how often I masturbated, how old I
was when first I masturbated, what sorts of things I thought about while
masturbating, and on and on.  Because I had taken an oath at the beginning
to tell the truth, my lawyer advised that I would have to answer each and
every one of these questions.

   Finally Mr.  Steelforth seemed satisfied and gave me permission to put
the rest of my clothes on.  The meeting was concluded.



   Chapter 6.  The Trial

   My attorney called me one day to advise that we would have no choice but
to proceed to trial.  No out of court settlement was possible and the
client had instructed the Steelforth Agency to proceed and to spare no
expense to bring this matter to a "successful conclusion"!

   I was informed that my jury trial would be entirely public.  Spectators
would be permitted in the courtroom, and the trial might also be televised.
The news media had managed to get some pictures of me in my tennis whites -
short shorts and a tube top with my midriff bare.  These photos were
published along with notice of the proceeding against me.  Some of the news
stories were indicating that the trial might prove quite humiliating for
me. As a result there were more potential spectators than the courtroom
could accommodate.  The bailiff let them come in a first come first serve
basis.  Then he informed those who had not gotten in that they might watch
the trial on closed circuit TV in the lounge down the hall.

   Most of the spectators were male, but there were also some women I had
managed to antagonize from my former place of employment who seemed to take
a particular delight in my present predicament.  I felt my chest tighten up
when I noticed Mr.  Steelforth, who had taken such liberties with my body
during the "Creditor's Examination, sitting at the plaintiff's table along
with the plaintiff's counsel.

   Then I saw something that chilled my blood.  Mr.  Jenkins, my former
employer, was right there in the third row!  His presence here today was
particularly hard to take since he had been the one who had caused me to be
in this position by sexually harassing me, firing me, and then blacklisting
me so that I could find no other work.  Evidently he had come to gloat.  I
felt that he and the others were ogling me.  My lawyer asked me if I had
any impressions concerning the spectators.

   "I think the women here mostly would like to see me taken down a peg or
two, and the men mostly want to gawk at me and imagine what it would be
like to get into my pants!  " My lawyer just laughed and indicated that was
his impression also.

   After the "All Rise" and the entry of the learned Judge Alfred P. 
Morelock, the trial was underway.  The judge proceeded with his ominous
address.

   "The Third District Court of the State of New York is now in session. 
We are here today on the matter of an enslavement petition filed by the
corporation known as Richmond SlendaBond Enterprises against an alleged
debtor identified in the petition as Stephanie Glenn.  At this time counsel
for the opposing parties will identify themselves for the record."

   "Roger Vandenberg for the plaintiff, your honor."

   "Michael Green for the defendant, your honor."

   "Before proceeding further I want to be sure that the defendant is
present.  Please stand and identify yourself for the record." I stood and
gave my name and address.  As I did so I noticed one of the TV cameras turn
toward me and then saw a close-up of me on the big screen.  A hushed murmur
could be heard from the gallery.  I remained standing.

   "You may sit down, Miss Glenn.  The Court will allow questioning and
dismissal for cause of any juror who is morally opposed to our enslavement
laws."

   The court proceeded to empanel a jury.  Far more women than men objected
to the morality of enslavement.  In the end I found that my jury was to
consist of nine men and three women.

   "Counsel for plaintiff and defendant being present, the jury having been
sworn in and all interested parties being present, let us proceed."

   Plaintiff's counsel made his opening statement.

   "We will show that this defendant is insolvent, that she owes the
plaintiff more than ten thousand dollars and that plaintiff is now her sole
creditor.  We will further show that she has stated, by affidavit, at the
time of her Creditor's Examination, that she is unemployed and has no
immediate or foreseeable prospects for obtaining gainful employment.  We
will also show that we have done a Family Impact Study, as required by law,
to establish that she has neither a spouse, nor children, nor an aging
parent whose welfare may depend on her remaining free.  Finally we will
show that she has far more value to plaintiff as human property than she
would ever be likely to have if she remained free."

   The plaintiff's counsel now began to set forth his case in chief First
he called Morgan Richmond.

   "Mr.  Richmond, you are the President of Richmond SlendaBond Ltd.  Is
that correct?"

   "Yes."

   "Mr.  Richmond, could you please tell the Court what is the nature of
your company's business?"

   "When the indenture and enslavement laws were passed, I determined that
it could be quite profitable to acquire insolvent debtors and market them
to other interested parties.  I then started a firm to bring about the
enslavement of certain debtors through legal process.  We accomplish that
with the help of firms that do the scouting and legwork for us, such as the
Steelforth Agency.  We first buy up all of the target's debt, and when we
are successful with our legal action, we actually take title to the human
property, train that property to the appropriate level of slave skills and
obedience, and then sell.  Of course, we try to buy low and sell high to
make a profit."

   "Does your firm deal only in female slaves?"

   "No indeed.  We are an equal opportunity enslaver."

   "Please tell us why you named the firm 'Richmond SlendaBond', if you
would sir?"

   "I chose that name because we decided to specialize in introducing only
slender debtors to a life of bondage.  That was partly a matter of my own
tastes and preferences, but also because I felt that was a market niche
that could be quite profitable for us." "Thank you Mr.  Richmond.  Your
witness." My attorney stood to begin the cross-examination.

   "Mr.  Richmond, since you have stated you enslave only slender debtors,
would it be correct to conclude that the uses to which your slaves are put
are primarily sexual in nature?"

   "That is correct."

   "Will you tell us then how you market the sexuality of your slaves?"

   "We have a subsidiary enterprise called 'Skelly Girls'.  It is a
nationwide prostitution service catering to businessmen.  But not all our
slaves are marketed in that fashion.  We also cater to the desires of
wealthy individuals who wish to purchase a slave outright from us, or to
lease one for a period of years, perhaps to serve as a domestic servant
with sexual duties also included."

   "Would it be your intention Mr.  Richmond, if you are successful in this
proceeding, to use the defendant in your nationwide prostitution service?
Or lease her to a private client?"

   "Objection, your Honor!  Mr.  Richmond is under no obligation to state
what his intentions are for Miss Glenn!" The plaintiff's attorney had risen
to his feet.

   "Objection sustained!"

   "And what about yourself sir?  Do you personally make sexual use of your
own slaves?  Would you personally rape Miss Glenn?"

   "Objection, your honor!  Mr.  Richmond's personal sex life is not
relevant to this proceeding!"

   "Objection sustained!  Move on counsellor!"

   "I have no more questions for this witness your honor".  The witness
stepped down.

   Next there was a rather dry presentation of documents showing that I
owed to the Plaintiff more than ten thousand dollars and other documents
showing that my meagre assets were nowhere near sufficient to satisfy these
debts.  Various witnesses were called from the accounting department of
Richmond SlendaBond to authenticate each of these documents, and each, in
turn, was entered into evidence against me.  My lawyer had tried, on cross
examination, to trip up some of these witnesses and get some of the
documents excluded, but was not successful in this.  He and I were both of
the belief that some of the alleged debts had been fabricated.

   Plaintiff's counsel then called Mr.  Steelforth to the witness box and
he was duly sworn in prior to beginning his testimony.

   "You are the managing partner of the William Steelforth Agency, is that
correct?"

   "I am."

   "Could you explain briefly what is the nature of your business sir?"

   "Our role is to represent the interests of clients, such as Richmond
SlendaBond, who wish to achieve satisfaction of debts owed them by debtors
who are unable to pay in money.  We do this by enslaving the debtor,
through lawful process, so that the creditor may sell him or her at
auction, or make such other use of the slave as he may see fit.  This
always involves researching the candidate to see if he or she is
enslavable, then hiring legal counsel, and marshalling all the necessary
documents and witnesses needed to secure a successful outcome.  We
sometimes act as 'talent scouts', seeking out debtors in a given city who
owe money to our clients.  On other occasions we are commissioned to bring
about the enslavement of a particular person desired by our client."

   "Which was the case with this defendant, Mr.  Steelforth?"

   "We were specifically commissioned by a client desiring to own Miss
Glenn."

   "Did you or your firm follow all the prescribed legal procedures to
determine Miss Glenn's assets, debts, present employment status, prospects
for employment, and ability to enter into a payment plan that would
discharge her debt in three years or less?"

   "We did carry out a Creditor's Examination to that end.  We determined
that her assets were wholly insufficient, that we were the sole creditor
having purchased all her other debts, that she is unemployed, and has no
ability to enter into a legally sufficient payment plan."

   "For the record sir, and under oath, did your firm do the legally
required Family Impact Study?"

   "We did that as part of the Creditor's Exam.  Miss Glenn advised us
under oath that she is unmarried, has no children or any other person
dependant on her personal care or financial support." Mr.  Vandenberg
seemed satisfied with this response and turned to the judge.

   "At this time, your honor, we wish to introduce two affidavits signed by
Miss Glenn on the above points and call her as a witness to authenticate
them."

   "Defense will stipulate to admission of the affidavits.  No need to call
her as a witness." Mr.  Vandenburg then continued his examination of his
own witness.

   "Mr.  Steelforth, do you believe Miss Glenn has far more value to your
client as human property than she could ever have if allowed to remain
free?"

   "Yes, I do."

   "Can you support that belief with objective evidence?"

   "During the Creditor's Exam I did personally examine Miss Glenn's naked
person.  I found her to be incredibly attractive.  I also touched her
intimately and found her to be highly responsive in a sexual way.  I know
from years of experience in the industry that her beauty and her sexual
sensitivity are qualities that would be much in demand by licensed
prostitution services.  Male clients will pay very well to have sex with a
woman like Miss Glenn.  She could earn a considerable amount of money for
my client in a relatively short period of time."

   "But Mr.  Steelforth, if all that you say is true, does it not also
follow that she could earn that same considerable amount of money as an
independent prostitute, while remaining free?"

   "In my experience it does not work that way.  In the first place Miss
Glenn has adamantly maintained that she would never willingly become a
prostitute.  If she were enslaved, that choice would no longer be hers to
make.  Also it is quite well known in the prostitution industry that male
clients will pay much higher fees to have sex with an indentured or
enslaved prostitute, as opposed to a free one.  Therefore her earning
potential, and ability to repay her debt, could never be as high if she
were allowed to remain free."

   "Thank you Mr.  Steelforth.  I have no more questions for this witness."

   The judge then turned to my lawyer.

   "Does defense counsel wish to cross examine this witness?"

   "No, your Honor.  Not at this time.  But we would like to reserve the
right to recall him later."

   "Your Honor, the plaintiff rests his case."

   The judge declared the plaintiff had made a prima facie case that he
should be allowed to take my person in satisfaction of a considerable debt.
Now it would be up to my own attorney to dispute the validity of some of
the alleged debts, or to convince the jury that I would be worth more to
the Plaintiff if left free than if enslaved.  Failing that, to appeal to
the jurors to ignore the law and set a beautiful woman free.  To do that he
would have to persuade the jurors to become very interested in knowing me,
perhaps on a very intimate basis.

   At that point the judge, noting the time, declared that the Court would
be in recess until 2 pm.

   ********************

   Promptly at 2 pm the judge banged the Court back into session.  The
bailiffs had allowed even more spectators in so that it was standing room
only.

   "This Court is now back in session in the matter of Richmond Slendabond
Enterprises v.  Glenn.

   My lawyer rose to address the court.

   "If it please the Court, defense will proceed at this time."

   "Proceed."

   "The defendant has agreed to present to the jury as much of her person
as possible, that they may better judge her character and sympathize with
her in her desire to maintain her freedom.  She will testify in her own
defense and we will present much information relative to her psychological
nature and concerning the reasons for her fear of enslavement.  We will
call character witnesses as well."

   "We will show that Miss Glenn is not insolvent, and that some of her
alleged debts have been fabricated in order to reach the statutory amount
of ten thousand dollars.  We will show that, when the fabricated debts are
eliminated that my client's actual debts do not exceed seven thousand
dollars.  While we admit that my client is presently unemployed, we will
show that she is highly trained as an accountant and that she does have
real prospects for employment in her field within the coming year.  Finally
we will show that, in the event Miss Glenn does not secure professional
employment within the coming year, she would be willing to accept
employment in the adult entertainment industry, perhaps as a nude dancer at
private parties, where she could earn more money and discharge her debt
more quickly than if she were 'human property' as plaintiff desires."

   My lawyer then proceeded to introduce documents apparently showing that
my debts were much less than had been claimed by the plaintiff.  He called
some witnesses to authenticate these documents.

   Then he called two witnesses that were in the head hunting business. 
They both testified that a person of my education and skills should have no
great difficulty finding employment in the accounting profession, once the
current recession was over.

   Next my attorney called me to testify.  I was sworn in and climbed up on
the witness platform.

   I experienced acute embarrassment!  I saw that some of my colleagues,
both male and female, from my old job at Masterson Automotive were here
watching me in my shame.  I saw Tom Jenkins in the third row staring at my
red face and gloating in my humiliation.  He, more than any one person, was
responsible for me being in this predicament!  All because I had double
slapped him for fondling my leg.  There was June who had once accused me of
sleeping with Tom to get a choice assignment!  There was Lacy who had
spread rumours all over the company that I was a prude because I felt it
was morally wrong to touch the genitals of our indentured waiter!  There
was Jeff Duncan from Human Resources!  All these people seemed to be
immensely enjoying my humiliation!  I was sure my face was red as a beet!

   My lawyer began my direct examination.

   "Your legal name is Stephanie Glenn, is that correct?"

   "That's right." I mumbled in a dying voice.

   "You will need to speak up so all can hear you.  State your name loud
and clear."

   "I am Stephanie Glenn".  I said, forcing myself to get the words out.

   "And do you live at 301 Rosewood Circle, in the town of New Rochelle,
State of New York?"

   "I do."

   "Miss Glenn, I need you to tell us all if you fear enslavement, and if
so why."

   "Yes sir, I do.  I highly value my freedom and I think it would be
terrifying to lose that.  I also have the fear that, as a slave, I would be
forced to do things, sexual things, that would go against my principles.  I
fear that I might experience so much unrelenting humiliation, on a day to
day basis, that I might lose the will to live."

   "Miss Glenn, do you believe, if the jury lets you keep your freedom,
that you could find a way to repay your debts?"

   "I do.  I am quite marketable as an accountant once the present
recession is over."

   "But what if that doesn't happen?  Then what?"

   "I am prepared to do what I must as a free Citizen, to repay my debts.
If it means I have to accept employment in the sex industry to do that, I
will swallow my pride and do such work!"

   "Give us some examples of what kinds of employment you might accept."

   "There are many private clubs where men go to watch naked women dance. I
would be willing to be such a dancer if I can find no other work.  There
are also opportunities to work as a nude dancer at private parties.  If all
else failed, I would even consider making soft porn films."

   "What about prostitution?"

   "No!  I would not do that!  It is against everything I believe in."

   "But if these jurors decide you should be enslaved, you could be forced
to prostitute yourself.  You could be forced to have sex with any man who
could pay your fee.  Isn't that so?"

   "Yes, I am afraid so.  That is why I fear enslavement so much!"

   "I have no more questions for this witness, your Honor.  Your witness."
He said turning to plaintiff's counsel.

   "Miss Glenn, I have a question for you.  You have said that you would
never prostitute yourself because it is against your principles.  Isn't it
also against your principles to default on your debts?"

   "Yes sir that is true."

   "Yet you would not do everything possible to repay your debts if your
other plans for earning money did not work out.  In other words you would
rather violate the legitimate rights of your creditors to expect repayment
of debt, before you would violate your own notions of propriety when it
comes to having sex with strangers for money?"

   "Yes sir that is true."

   "I have no more questions for this witness."

   The judge looked at me.

   "You may step down from the witness platform, young lady.  "

   The lawyers for the two sides proceeded to make their closing
summations. Then the judge gave the jury instructions on the law as it
applied to this case.

   With that the trial was over.  Chapter 7.  These Legs Are Made For
Running

   My attorney and I were passing the time in the courthouse lounge.  I
wanted a cup of coffee but I was too wired and nervous already!  It had
been over two hours since the jury had retired to choose a foreman and
begin deliberations.  I asked my lawyer what it would mean for my chances
if the jury returned a quick verdict or took a much longer time.

   He explained to me that if things dragged on too long, that meant the
jury was probably deadlocked.  That, in turn, could lead to a compromise
verdict where they would convict me of the lesser charge, so that I would
be indentured for ten years to SlendaBond instead of becoming their
outright slave for life.  He said my best chance for keeping my freedom
intact would be if they returned a quick verdict.

   When it was three hours, the judge called us all back in and announced
that court would be in recess until tomorrow when jury deliberations would
continue.

   That night in my condo I was so scared I couldn't sleep!  My heart was
pounding!  My breathing was labored!  The muscles of my torso and shoulders
were very tense.  What if they did enslave me?  If it was going to happen
it would probably happen tomorrow.  It would be an unthinkable and
intolerable calamity!  I simply could not stand being enslaved!  It would
go against everything in my nature to be stripped of my freedom and dignity
in that way!

   Worst of all would be the forced sex that would be sure to follow!  I
simply could not stand that!  So many women were being forced into
prostitution these days that prices paid by the johns were very low.  The
very idea that I might be made into a public whore- that every Tom, Dick
and Harry with $20.00 to spare on payday could stick his dick into me!  How
could I live with that?  Or maybe I would be made into a private prostitute
to service exclusively the needs of some rich bastard!  Some obese pot
bellied son-of-a-bitch who could diddle my clitoris whenever or wherever he
chose!  How could I live with that?

   I was wearing short shorts.  I looked down at my legs.  They were
beautiful legs!  Too pretty to be pawed by strange men I hated!  Swift
legs! Runner's legs!  They had carried me to a second place finish in the
Boston Marathon last year!  I thought of that old Nancy Sinatra hit "These
Boots Are Made for Walking".  Well just maybe 'These legs Are Made For
Running'!  Maybe these legs could save my life - so to speak!

   What to do?  Was escape my best answer?  I knew this would be hard.  I
was wearing an electronic ankle bracelet.  Escaping slaves were nearly
always caught, and usually faced severe punishment and public humiliation
for the attempt.

   The ankle bracelet was made of hardened steel.  The judge had said it
could not be cut off.  Yet the ankle bracelet's lock could be picked open
surely?  I just needed to find someone with the rights skills and tools. 
Then what?  Where would I go?  How would I live?  If I made one mistake
they would have me back in their clutches in no time.  For all these
difficulties it seemed to me that a life on the run would be infinitely
superior to being stripped of my freedom and dignity and becoming someone's
sex toy!

   I would need identity documents under a fictitious name to survive.  Who
could help with that?  I would have to concoct a fictitious resume to get
hired somewhere.  No one would hire me if they knew I was a fugitive.

   One step at a time!  There was Tom Murphy.  He was a locksmith and he
and I had often played tennis.  Usually I beat him.  He had come on to me a
couple of times and I had turned him down.  Clearly he had the hots for me!
Maybe I would have to sleep with Tom to make it worth his while to help me?
But what if Tom turned me in instead of helping me?  I would have to take
that chance, but there was something I could do to improve the odds.  I got
the small stun gun out of my night table drawer and slipped it in my purse.


   Then I called Tom.  I pleaded with him for his help.  I told him I was
in a real jam, without saying that I intended to run from the court.  I did
not want to say too much on the phone.  I hoped he hadn't heard anything
about my case and had no reason to suspect my true purpose.  I just told
him I had a job of lock picking and asked if he could meet me at an address
in lower Manhattan.  He said he would.

   I scooped up what cash I had in the condo, some candy bars, a change of
clothing and my prescription meds.  An hour later I was meeting him at the
address I had given, one that I knew to be an abandoned building.  I had
taken the subway there.

   "Hi Tom!"

   "What's up Steph?  Why this meeting in the middle of the night at an
abandoned building?"

   "Tom, you must promise to keep my secret!  I am in trouble with the law.
I am probably going to be enslaved tomorrow unless I can skip town, but
first I have to get this damned ankle bracelet off me so I can't be
traced!"

   "Oh I don't know Stephanie.  I could be in a world of trouble if you
were caught and they found out I had helped you escape!"

   "Do you know how much trouble I could be in without your help tomorrow?
I could well be human livestock, someone's property!  Do you think I could
ever stand that?"

   "Knowing you, I doubt that you could!"

   "Then help me PLEASE!  If I am caught I will never betray you.  I will
never let them know you were the one who got the bracelet off me!  Besides
I will make it worth your while!"

   "How will you do that Steph?"

   "What do you want Tom?  A blow job?"

   "I would want more than that Steph!  I always wanted to get into your
pants!  That is my price now!"

   "OK, OK, already!  If that is what you want, that is what you shall
have! Now please help.  I don't have a lot of time left before morning to
make my getaway!"

   "Put your foot up on that block.  I want to examine the bracelet"

   I did so and he examined my bracelet ankle and leg for some time.  His
hands began to play with my left calf and feel the muscle there and the
under knee tendons.  He kissed my knee.  He caressed my left thigh.  I was
hardly in a position to object to anything he wanted to do!

   "Can't you just pick the lock?"

   "Opening the lock, or even attempting to open the lock, would
immediately transmit a signal to police that the lock had been tampered
with!  It would also report our exact location to police!"

   "Is there no hope then?"

   "The bracelet is hardened steel.  But I could cut it off with my diamond
bit power drill.  That would not cause any alarm signal to go to police."

   "Fine.  Do it then."

   "Not until I have been paid, sexually speaking!"

   I nodded my agreement and we found a way into the abandoned building. 
Tom brought a blanket from his truck to lay down on the floor.  We fucked
until Tom had climaxed.  Then he agreed to get on with the job.  He went to
get tools from his truck.  Twenty minutes later he had cut clear through
the bracelet in two places so that the two halves could be separated.

   Tom saw a small stray dog nearby.  He got some meat out of the truck and
used it to tempt the animal to within capture distance.  He wrapped a piece
of cloth around the dog's belly and used that, in turn, to attach the two
halves of the bracelet.  He told me as long as the GPS sensors keep picking
up a moving signal from the bracelet there would be no alarm to alert
police that the bracelet was no longer on me.

   "Steph, there is an organization here in New York City called the
'Underground'.  They are some very courageous volunteers who take huge
risks to help people escape slavery.  I know a guy who would know how to
contact them.  They can help you.  Would you like me to call?"

   "Sure Tom.  That might solve a lot of problems I thought I would have to
solve all by myself!"

   Tom left me for a few minutes and called his friend from the truck. 
When he came back he said a representative of the 'Underground' would meet
me in the heart of Greenwich Village in one half hour.  He named an
intersection that was 10 blocks from our warehouse location.  He said I
would have to walk there by myself.  Everything was on a 'need to know'
basis with this group.  They wanted me at the meeting place, not Tom and me
together.

   "Steph, these clothes that you are wearing - were they purchased with a
credit card?

   "Very likely, Tom.  I don't like to carry large amounts of cash when I
shop, so I use the card."

   He went out to his truck and returned a few minutes later with an old
shirt.

   "You will need to take off all your clothes and put on this old shirt
instead.  All clothing these days contains RFID threads that can be picked
up by government or business scanners.  The thread scanners can identify
precisely what the article of clothing is, who manufactured it, what
retailer sold it on what date.  If you used a credit card to buy these
articles then the scanner will also have your identity linked to each of
these items of clothing!"

   I did as he said.  I found the shirt a couple sizes too big for me, but
at least it came down to mid thigh on me so it protected my modesty.  Tom
and I parted and I began the walk of 10 blocks.  I was scared as some of
the blocks I had to walk down were poorly lit and sometimes frequented by a
rough element.  Also it was a bit windy and I had to struggle to keep Tom's
shirt from blowing up and revealing too much of me!

   Soon I was in Greenwich Village standing on the corner where I was
supposed to wait.  It seemed like an hour but was probably only ten minutes
before a young man asked me for directions to the theatre district.  As he
came closer he was soon whispering to me to just stay put for a couple
minutes, then follow him down a subway entrance.  I did so and soon I was
following him into a subway car.  We rode it for several stops, then he
signaled me to exit the car with him.  When we reached the street there was
a car waiting.  We got in and I was immediately blindfolded and the car
drove around for a while.  Finally we got out and he guided me into the
front entrance of a building.  Only then did the blindfold come off.  He
rang a bell and drove off, leaving me to wait for someone to answer the
bell.

   I had no idea where we were, but I soon learned we were at the 'safe
house' maintained by the 'Underground' in lower Manhattan.

   A matronly woman in her forties opened the door and ushered me inside
where I also met an athletic man about her age and a nerdy looking young
man about my own age.

   "You may call me Jan, the older man John and this young man Jeff", the
woman said, "although these are obviously not our real names.  We will be
the team that will help you alter your appearance, give you a paper and
electronic identity, a past to go with that and equip you with necessary
knowledge of computer security systems.  Our team goal is not to have you
live here but to prepare you for a new life a long distance from New York
City.  We plan to put you on the 6 am mag-lev train out of Grand Central
tomorrow morning, westbound for Chicago.  My own role is the appearance
stuff.  We can't have you looking like the "Wanted" poster the police will
post in the next few days, now can we?"

   "No, I guess not" I replied.  Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief.  I
felt these people knew the ropes and were going to solve a lot of problems
for me that I thought I was going to have to work out alone.  They would
help me avoid all the pitfalls that could cost me my freedom.

   "Why don't I do my magic first?  " she said as she led me to a different
part of the house.

   "Let us see what we can do with those eyes first".  As Jan said this she
reached for a pair of contact lenses and had me try them on.

   The contacts fitted perfectly and changed my eye color from brown to
blue.  She added a false nose, did a makeup job, had me color my red hair
blonde, and provided me with two sets of clothing.  She then took a typical
head and shoulders photo of me suitable for a driver's license photo.

   The second member of my team, John, then worked with me first on
choosing a name.  He showed me a short list of possibilities.

   "I think I would like to be Rebecca Stevens", I told him.

   "We can arrange that", he replied, "but it is also important that we
create a past for you to go with that name.  You will need to be able to
tell people where you grew up, how many brothers and sisters you had, what
high school you attended, what jobs you have had, and so forth."

   "Couldn't we just give me enough paperwork for me to flee to Canada or
to one of the southern states that is still part of the old United States?
After all, they don't have slavery there so I would be safe, right?"

   "Not quite so fast young lady.  It is true they don't have slavery
there, but they do have extradition treaties with Capitallia.  If you were
matched to Capitallia's 'Wanted Persons' list, you would be sent back! 
Since the precautions you would have to take to protect your new identity
would be just as great in those countries, you might as well hide in your
own country."

   "Ok, I get it!" I sighed, realizing the enormity of the task ahead of
me.

   Then he worked for many hours with me creating the details of my past.
He drilled me on these details until he was satisfied I knew them cold.  He
proceeded to create the paper documents I would need including a driver's
license, a social security card, photos of my supposed family members, of a
boyfriend I supposedly had back in my hometown and two alternative resumes.
.  The third member of my team, Jeff, then indicated I was to follow him
into the computer lab in the basement of the house.

   "Rebecca, and I may as well start calling you by your new name, my job
is to tutor you in what you need to know about electronic identification of
persons in our society.  You wouldn't want to be picked up by police
because you walked by the wrong scanner would you?"

   "No way!" I was beginning to feel like it was all going to be just too
much knowledge for me to master.  I had never been a top student in high
school math or science and had never taken a computer course.

   "Good.  Then let us get started.  All clothing manufactured in the last
50 plus years in Capitallia contains special RFID tags or threads.  Other
common objects people usually carry on their persons may also contain these
tags."

   "What does RFID stand for?" I asked.

   "Radio Frequency Identification." Jeff continued, "When you pass by the
right kind of scanner, radio frequency waves are sent out by the scanner
which can read information from these threads."

   "That must be what Tom meant - why he made me put on his old shirt
instead of the clothes I was wearing?" "That's right.  You were lucky to
have a friend that knew about this stuff helping you before you came to
us." I breathed a sign of relief hearing this.

   "When clothing is manufactured a tag or thread is inserted somewhere in
the fabric that uniquely identifies that particular article of clothing. 
Something like a serial number.  Shows who the manufacturer was, date of
manufacture, etc.  The identifier would not be the same for any two pieces
of the same type of clothing even from the same manufacturer."

   "How does that identify a person?"

   "When you or I walk into a retail store and buy an article of clothing
with a credit card, or perhaps a whole shopping cart of articles on one
purchase, the store's computer creates an account for us with our name and
address and other personal data pulled from the credit card account.  It
then reads the RFID tag of each article we are buying as the cashier scans
them for price and attaches those "serial numbers", if you will, to our
personal account in a process called "imprinting".  The next time you or I
visit that store, as we walk in the front door we pass by a scanner that
reads the RFID tags of every article of clothing we are then wearing.  If
it finds some articles that are already linked to our customer account, it
uses that link to identify who we are.  Such identification may be used to
target specific advertising messages to us that is likely to be of interest
to us as individuals based on our previous buying patterns."

   "But what if we had originally bought all our clothing for cash?"

   "Good point.  If everything was bought for cash and the clerk could not
otherwise identify us at time of purchase, then there would be no account
for the scanned RFID threads to be imprinted upon."

   "The new clothing we provided you had been purchased for cash and would
therefore not have RFID threads coded to match any particular person.  That
way if you passed any government scanner or retail store scanner, the
computer lookup on your clothing would return 'Name Unknown'.  That will be
safe enough for now."

   Eventually they would get me some articles of clothing with RFID threads
coded to my new identity, but that would take some time.  He explained that
the "Underground" also had computer programmer operatives working in
federal and state law enforcement.  These operatives would eventually fix
the federal law enforcement database so that any biometric scan of my
fingerprints or retinas would link to my new identity rather than my old
identify.

   In the meanwhile he stressed that I must not carry anything at all that
had been purchased with a credit card under my original name and address.
All kinds of objects, in addition to clothing, contained RFID threads. 
Most important of all, he said, was that if a scanner ever picked up on my
original identify because of one or two articles on my person that had been
bought with a credit card, then the computer would register all the RFID
threads in my clothing to that identity as well!  They would then no longer
scan as "Name Unknown" but scan my original name and address!  This process
was known as "Re-Imprinting" and would result in all my clothing becoming
"hot", as he put it!  He gave me precise instructions what I should do if
that situation ever arose.

   As he was explaining all this to me, I thought about the small stun gun
I had earlier slipped into my purse.  I knew I had purchased this for cash
so any RFID thread or chip it might contain could only scan as "Name
Unknown" and not possibly be linked to me.  That should be ok and I didn't
have to tell them I was carrying it.

   He told me of a place in the foothills of the Catskill mountain range.
It was on the mag-lev railroad to Albany about two hours north of New York
City.  He spoke of a cabin used by hunters during deer hunting season that
was walking distance from the town railroad stop.  He directed that I was
to proceed to Grand Central Station, board a train for upstate New York,
disembark at Saugerties and walk to the place.  He said I could lay low
there for a couple of days while he made up my new ID documents.

   There was one minor difficulty with this plan though.  The mag-levs all
used biometric identification of passengers to thwart criminals and
fugitives on the run from the law.  My biometrics would give me away at
this point since they would not have time to fix that in the federal
database for at least a week.  To get around this difficulty I would be
escorted on the train handcuffed as a "prisoner" by two uniformed
"policemen" who would flash badges at the train conductor.  These
"policemen" would ride with me to my stop at Saugerties and get off the
train with me there.  The conductor, seeing me handcuffed and in custody
already, would not require a fingerprint scan!

   Finally he gave me a capsule I was to carry in my mouth at all times. 
In case of my arrest I was to bite down hard on the capsule.  No, it was
not poison he hastened to explain.  Rather biting down would cause it to
send a signal to the "Underground" that one of their safe house locations
was about to be compromised so the place could be cleared out before police
could arrive.

   The last step was for me to don a blindfold and follow the woman who had
first admitted me.  She put me in a car and drove me to Grand Central
Station.  I was instructed not to remove the blindfold until several
minutes after I would hear her drive off.  The two "policemen" then met me
as I entered the station, placed me under "arrest", bought tickets for the
three of us and rode with me to Saugerties.  There we parted company and I
walked to the cabin following the directions I had been given.

   A day later there was a package at the Saugerties mag-lev station for me
to pickup.  It contained the computer verifiable ID documents I would need
and a prepaid debit card in my new name with $500 on it.  I boarded the
train heading north again first to Albany, then west to Chicago.  The trip
to Chicago on the mag-lev took 5 hours.

   Once in Chicago, I realized I needed some necessaries.  I walked into a
chain drug store and froze when I heard a synthesized electronic voice say
"Welcome to our store, Stephanie Glenn!" I thought "What the Fuck!  How did
they know who I was!  Then I realized there must be something in my purse
that their scanner was able to recognize.  I rummaged through my purse and
found it.  It was a package of Tampax I had purchased in New York City from
another drug store of this same chain!  It must have contained an RFID
chip.

   I must get rid of it!  But would that be enough?  I remembered the
explanation I had gotten from the Underground about Re-Imprinting.  What it
meant was that the previously anonymous threads in the clothing I was
wearing would now be linked to my true identity - at least in the
drugstore's computer system.  Their system would then check my identity
against the government's wanted persons register.  If their system found a
match, they would be legally required to forward all data to the
government's computer system.  My clothing - all of it - was now "hot"!  I
ran out of the store in a panic!

   I knew that I must lose this clothing, all of which was now trackable. I
had to assume the drug store chain got a match for my identity with the
national Persons Wanted List.  By now the threads in all my clothing would
be cross-registered with all law enforcement agencies.  Every time that I
would board a bus or a subway or stand at a street corner waiting for a
light to change my RFIDs could be picked up and transmitted to police.

   I ran into a sporting goods store and bought in line speed skates for
cash, then into a dark alley where I stripped off all of my clothing, even
panties.  All that stuff was trackable.  I remembered the specific
instructions I had been given by the safe house in New York for just such a
situation as this.  I fashioned a sign with a piece of cardboard and some
string which I hung about my neck proclaiming myself a slave who is being
punished through forced nakedness while on an errand for her master.  I
took out the handcuffs, black leather collar and coin purse the safe house
had provided.  I fixed the handcuffs so it looked as though I were cuffed.
I put the black leather collar around my neck and fastened that in a way
that it looked impossible to remove.  It had 'D' rings where a leash might
be attached.  I hung the coin purse around my neck and put my cash, ID and
credit card into that.  I chucked my purse and all my clothing in a
dumpster in that alley.

   Then I ran out into the street absolutely naked.  I was confidant police
would not arrest me for indecent exposure because there is an exception for
slaves who are being punished by public humiliation.  Also I believed
police would have trouble catching me while I was moving so fast on those
roller blades.  Interested male spectators would not have long to study my
body as I whizzed by.  I ran as fast as my slender muscular legs and the
skates could carry me toward a destination about 10 blocks north where I
remembered there was a launder-mat.

   During this run, with my heart pounding, I ran along one block where
young women were being vended.  I saw twenty or more of them, each secured
by her collar with a length of chain to a wall stanchion.  Each wore only a
bikini top and a thong - the minimum needed to comply with public decency
laws.  Above each one was a sign with her slave name, her price, and a
paragraph describing who she had been when she was free.  This one had been
a schoolteacher right here in Chicago, that one a secretary from Milwaukee,
and so forth.  By now it was dusk.  Artificial lights illuminated these
women and the signs over them.  Male passersby of various ages had stopped
to examine these women with, apparently, a view to possible purchase.  I
was appalled at what I saw - and it caused even more energy to flow into my
legs that I might escape such a fate myself!

   Up ahead I could see the street was blocked off to automobile traffic.
Evidently there was some sort of street fair going on.  I kept going.  They
had the street blocked off with a high wood plank fence that ran almost the
whole width of the street.  There was an entrance archway straight ahead of
me.  I noted a sign that said "Adults Only" over the entrance and someone
there checking ages of young looking persons.  Evidently whatever was going
on in this street fair was not for children.  As I entered the fair the
lights were coming on in the various exhibit areas and booths to offset the
gloom of the faltering daylight.

   One brightly lit exhibit caught my eye.  It was a group of naked male
slaves, each one slender and lightly muscled, tethered to a wall and
handcuffed.  Evidently public nudity was perfectly legal in Chicago as long
as it was in an area where children were not admitted.  That these men were
slaves was evident, not only from the handcuffs, but from the iron collars
about their necks, and the fact each had a brand on his inner thigh.  There
was a booth nearby where tickets were being sold.  As I passed by, a couple
of women who had just stepped away from the ticket booth were approaching
two of the naked males.  I noticed these two slaves had not an ounce of
excess fat on their bodies, washboard abdominal muscles and were especially
well hung.  Their penises, even in their present flaccid condition, looked
to be 8 inches long.  Their testicles and scrotums were of impressive
proportions and hung low.  The women approached the men and began to fondle
them between their legs.  Under a different set of circumstances I would
have liked to buy a ticket for myself and do the same!  I had come a long
way since the time I refused to fondle the male waiter in the 'Garden
Café'!

   A little further on I saw a truly shocking exhibit called "The Generator
Station".  Here were a dozen or more young women, all rather athletic
looking, in a line on a raised platform.  All of these women were quite
naked and ranged in age from early to late twenties.  Each was astride a
kind of stationary bicycle, having no seat, with her neck in a yoke and
arms restrained at her side.  Each one had her legs vigorously pumping away
at the pedals.  A sign overhead announced that these women were generating,
with their young and well-muscled legs, and as part of a court ordered
punishment, all the electricity consumed by the entire street fair!  Around
the neck of each young female was a sign with her name, vocation and a
brief description of the offense for which she had been indentured.

   There had been much talk about finding alternative energy sources in the
early twenty first century.  Apparently this problem had been solved with
slave labor!  I shuddered, breathed more deeply and felt a new burst of
adrenalin and oxygen energizing my own legs.  If these legs did not serve
me well now to escape, then these legs might well end up as pistons for
some businessman trying to save on his energy costs!

   There were two male overseers walking up and down the line.  They
carried no whips.  They carried instead remote controls that enabled them
to somehow control the women in their labors.

   Soon after I had exited the street fair and found myself back in normal
traffic.  I found myself fast approaching a gang of college boys who were
drunk and were pointing at me and making fun of me.  It was clear they
meant to molest me as I approached them.  I ducked into an alley to avoid
them.  Some of them were in hot pursuit but I was easily able to out run
them with my roller blades.

   After I got beyond the alley and round the next corner I was confronted
with some of the other college boys who had taken an alternate route to
corner me.  I am surrounded.  But I had had some martial arts training and
defended myself well, and made a getaway on my inline skates.  Finally I
reached the launder-mat, went in and stole some clothing that was about my
size, ran out with it, found another alley where I changed into these
clothes.

   The underground railway people in New York had given me a contact person
for their Chicago shelter.  I tried the phone number but no one answers.  I
knew that I would have to wait until the contact would return home.

   I needed a place to sleep just for that night.  I tried a motel but
noticed they were photographing each person as they check in - even if they
were paying cash.  No doubt this was in case things turn up missing from
the room.  But I can't be sure there isn't a link to law enforcement and
there will be an APB out about me by now.  I tried a couple of other places
but they also were photographing.

   Then I thought about maybe pitching a tent in one of those tent parks.
It was summertime and the weather was not bad.  Probably they don't
photograph people who check into these places.  I bought a cheap throwaway
wireless laptop and used it to locate one of those camping parks within 2
miles of a commuter train stop.  I found a twenty-four hour store that sold
sporting goods, and bought, with cash, a cheap tent, a backpack, a sleeping
bag, some cooking gear, and a few other camping necessities.

   I boarded the train with my tent and things in the backpack.  After a
ride of 30 minutes, I got off at Pine Tree Road and walk the 2 miles to
camp.  They checked me in with no problem and no questions asked.  No
identity check, no photographing.  I pitched my tent and settled in for the
night.  In the morning I built a fire from wood logs and made myself some
coffee and oatmeal.  I had paid for a week so I left the tent up.  I took
the commuter train back into Chicago.

   In Chicago I again tried phoning my contact for the Underground.  This
time I was in luck.  I was given an address where I would be picked up for
a blindfolded ride to the safe house.  When I arrived at the house I was
given a bed in a dormitory and a chance to bathe and eat good food.

   By then it was early Sunday afternoon.  I knew that I would need a job.
The staff at the safe house got me settled into their dormitory and
suggested I should apply for a telemarketing job, until I could find
something better.  They aren't too fussy about references for that kind of
work.  I used my throwaway laptop to find job openings and phone numbers.

   Early Monday morning I got busy applying.  I secured a job.  Everything
was OK the first day.  The pay wasn't great, but it was a job.  With that I
was able to go out and rent a small apartment of one room and stock it with
groceries.  I was on my way!

   I went back on my throwaway laptop.  I checked for news stories about
myself.  Sure enough they had sent police looking for me when I did not
show up for court that next day.  The judge had declared the trial in
recess until such time as I would be apprehended and could again be brought
before the court.  He informed the jury that, in all probability, this
would not take more than a week or two, given all the high tech tracking
devices now deployed everywhere!

   The judge also announced that since I was now a fugitive from the law,
that when I was caught, there would be some serious additional penalties!
The court would make an example of me with a special humiliating public
punishment!  Well they didn't have custody of me yet.  And with any luck
they never would!  I had made a new life for myself!

   I managed to line up a professional job interview.  I was to meet a
Richard Smithson at a restaurant and bar called "The Ball and Chain".  From
the name I wondered if some of the employees were slaves.  When I arrive
the hostess checked my name.

   "Rebecca Stevens?" I nodded.  "Mr.  Smithson is expecting you.  Right
this way." She led me through the restaurant to his table.  I saw that
there was a long stage down the center with nude pole dancers gyrating.

   "Miss Stevens.  I hope you don't mind the atmosphere here.  Having the
meeting here seemed like a good idea, as I needed to know if you would be
comfortable with nudity, prostitution and, of course, slavery?"

   I could not believe he expected me to be ok with all this.

   "You see my firm uses enslaved call girls and enslaved dancers to
entertain clients.  I might need you to come to trade conventions with me
and assist in making clients comfortable in the hospitality suites.  This
could include ascertaining a client's desires and preferences and choosing
an appropriate slave girl to meet his needs.  You would be ok with that
wouldn't you?"

   "Surely Mr.  Smithson.  I have been called upon to arrange such things
in my last job and I assure you it would be no problem!"

   I lied through my teeth.  My true feelings were exactly opposite on all
these points but I knew what I had to say to get the job.  Soon a naked
waitress came and took our orders.  I noted that there was an iron collar
around her neck and a number tattooed on her left buttock.  He caressed her
bare thigh.  She seemed not to notice.  We started with a fairly expensive
wine and I actually found him to be a fairly good conversationalist.

   "I see from your resume that your last job was in Accounts Receivable
for Murphy Automotive in San Francisco.  Why did you leave that firm?"

   "The firm went under sir.  Their market position eroded because of all
the new competition in the Bay area."

   I hoped this would discourage him from any attempt to check out my
references at this phony job with a company that never existed.  Soon the
main course arrived and we dug in.  We made mostly small talk.

   As the evening wore on I thought that things were going well with this
interview.  We were on the dessert course.  Just then two policemen
approached our table accompanied by a woman who looked vaguely familiar.

   "That's her!" the woman shouted pointing at me.  She had spoken loudly
enough that all the other patrons in the restaurant turned to look in my
direction.

   "The reason we called you at home and asked you to accompany us here,
Mrs.  Reed, is that the restaurant does RFID scans on the clothing of all
its patrons to identify regular or returning customers.  We had put the
RFIDs of your reported missing clothing out on an alert since yesterday. 
The scan of this young woman's clothes that was made earlier this evening
matched the alert so the restaurant's computer automatically reported it to
us" one of the officers said.

   "I have the receipts to prove the clothes she is wearing are mine!  I
want my clothing back right now!" the woman shrieked.  I had intended to
mail the clothes back to her, but with everything that had been happening I
had not managed to do that yet.

   "Do you have some proof of who you are, Miss?" the first officer said.

   I fumbled nervously to produce my new false identity papers, while
breaking into a sweat.  My heart began to pound.

   "Miss Rebecca Stevens, you are under arrest for the theft of this
woman's clothing from the launder-mat.  Stand over there please.  We will
need you to remove the clothing belonging to Mrs.  Reed at this time, so
that we can return those items to the rightful owner!" I could not believe
it!  They expected me to strip right there in the restaurant!  In front of
all the patrons!  I knew I had to do it or they would do it to me.  Mr. 
Smithson, who was on the verge of offering me the job, just looked on
dumbfounded as more and more of my body came into his view.  When I was
entirely naked they handcuffed me and escorted me out to the patrol car.  I
drew quite a bit of interested gawking from restaurant patrons first and
then from passersby on the street.

   At the police station they photograph me and lock me up, still naked, in
a holding cell overnight.  I later learn that a story has run on page 6 of
the leading Chicago newspaper titled "Launder-Mat Clothing Thief" with a
naked photo of me.  Of course they pixelled out my genitals to comply with
the public decency laws.

   In the morning I was still naked in the holding cell, when I was visited
by two out of town skip tracers from New York.  It seems they had been able
to track my movements to Chicago by means of that same damn Tampax pack. 
My true identity had been linked to the RFID chip in the package when I
bought the Tampax along with other items on my credit card in New York
City. Sensors in the mag-lev train I took from New York to Chicago had
picked up the signal and found a match against my name on a federal wanted
list.  This had alerted the New York skip trace agents to follow me to the
state of Illinois.  When they arrived they saw the story in the Chicago
paper about the naked clothing thief and compared the photo that
accompanied that story with the photos they already had from the New York
court.  They felt they had a match, and were able to positively confirm it
when they visited me in the Chicago jail.  Since Illinois and New York had
reciprocity with respect to extraditions, they had no trouble getting
clearance to bring me back to New York City.

   They transported me back to New York just as they found me, naked and
handcuffed.  I tried not to make eye contact with other train passengers
who openly gawked at me.  About half way back I just started sobbing and
sobbing.  My ingenuity and my runner's legs had not been enough to save my
precious freedom!

   In New York I was placed in a holding cell to await what tomorrow would
bring.



   Chapter 8.  The Slaver Helps a Dancer

   Immediately after the jury retired to deliberate Stephanie's case, the
SlendaBond attorney and I retired to the VIP club in the courthouse to
await the verdict.  We discussed the fact that the longer the jury was out
the better our chances of achieving at least a partial enslavement of
Stephanie.  If the jurors were having trouble reaching a verdict they would
probably settle on a compromise verdict where at least we would have
Stephanie under an indenture for 5 or 10 years.  That might satisfy the
client and give us something to celebrate!

   I really wanted to win this victory over Stephanie.  Something in her
nature and bearing challenged me to beat her.  At least the sexual part of
my being wanted this victory even if the intellectual side had doubts about
the justice of our case.  After three hours the judge called us back and
adjourned proceedings for the day.  As it was a Friday, proceedings would
resume Monday morning.

   The next day, Saturday, I was a featured speaker at a symposium called
The Kinder and Gentler Slavery of Today and Tomorrow.  I continued to be
just as much interested in the theoretical and legal aspects of slavery as
I had always been in the practical end of it.  This conference reminded me
of that earlier gathering I had attended many years ago, with my friend
George, when we were both college students.  That was the one where the
very idea that slavery could be made "kinder and gentler" was first
publicly proposed and became the basis for a concerted campaign to persuade
the public.

   The speaker before me had gone on at great length about all the
legislation that had been passed to implement the concept.  Slave owners
today had accepted that they were responsible for life long medical care
for the slave and to provide for his or her retirement years.  Those owners
who tried to duck such responsibilities were subject to criminal
prosecution.  While the slave herself, of course, had no legal standing to
bring a legal action to secure these benefits, there were slave advocacy
organizations that investigated abuses and could bring a lawsuit on her
behalf or alert public authorities to prosecute where appropriate.  As the
public saw all of this being successfully implemented, opposition to
slavery as such greatly declined.  This was, of course, the major purpose
for the whole concept.

   The title for my own talk was "Putting Equity into the Enslavement
Process".  I had been introduced to this group as one of the most
successful slavers in the business, having enslaved, for debt, over 1000
men and women, over the last ten years, through the legal processes. 
Therefore I had some credibility with this audience.  Most of those in
attendance cared more about expanding the supply of slaves than they cared
about justice or equity.  But they would listen to someone of my
background.

   I began by pointing out that we were losing some potential slaves
because juries often were still sympathetic to those in the dock.  There
was a public perception that quite a few people had been indentured or
enslaved who did not deserve such a fate.  Many citizens of Capitallia
seemed to feel that slavery for debt was a punishment and should only be
imposed where there was some fault or wrongful conduct by the debtor.  Many
felt that it was wrong to enslave someone simply because they had a run of
bad luck and could not pay their debts.  As I said these things I
remembered that I had felt and expressed much the same to Professor
Petersen as a young college student.  I had always felt it morally, but
knew I would have to sell it to this audience on some more 'practical'
basis.

   I then gave example after example of cases wherein I thought there had
been some injustice.  I naturally changed the names and places.  I also
gave examples where juries had refused to enslave even in cases where I
thought we had a solid case and the debtor well deserved the punishment we
were seeking.  It was the need for unanimous verdicts, and the feeling on
the part of some of the citizenry that the system was not just that led to
these defeats, I pointed out.  If we would introduce some reforms we might
improve the reputation of the system with the citizenry to where we could
be successful with 95% of all attempted enslavements, instead of succeeding
with just 75% of them, which was about all we had been able to achieve up
to this time.  That idea resonated with my audience.  There were shouts of
"here, here!"

   But there was another point I wished to make with this audience.  I had
become aware of many cases where slaves who were highly skilled in a
profession or in the arts were having such talents wasted.  Their owners
could make quite a bit of money by just hiring them out as sex slaves and
did not always see it in their interest to allow a slave to carry on with
his or her profession.  Allowing a slave to pursue a career, I said, need
not conflict with sexual usage of that slave, either by the owner or
others. Further I pointed out the potential added pleasure an owner might
have in owning a slave who was highly accomplished as a result of many
years of training and dedication to a skill or craft.  I heard some
murmuring and nodding of heads in response.  The audience was clearly
intrigued though their response was more muted than when I was talking
about how to increase the numbers of enslavements!

   As I was saying all this I happened to notice a slim and very attractive
woman who looked vaguely familiar cleaning and shining the brass sculptures
that decorated alcoves and niches in the hall in which we were meeting. 
She was quite some distance from me but I could just see that she was
apparently a slave as she was scantily clad and had an iron collar with
rings about her neck.  She cast frequent glances at me as though hoping to
make eye contact but not quite daring to do so.  I was puzzled if I knew
this woman or not, but had to put her out of my mind for now.

   I wrapped up my talk by proposing that we all go forth through our
various professional societies and press for changes in the laws so that,
in future, it would be necessary to prove debtor wrongdoing as well as a
creditor's need for restitution in order to support an enslavement
proceeding, even at the stage of the preliminary hearing.  Cases in which
there had been no wrong doing should not even reach a jury, except perhaps
where the only remedy sought was a short indenture of two or three years to
provide at least some restitution to the creditor.

   After the symposium ended I headed back to my office.  I decided to
check in with the two skip trace agents I had hired to keep an eye on
Stephanie.  I almost always hired such agents when a case reached this
stage.  After investing all this work I did not want to lose a potential
slave who decided to make a run for it.  It would be very deflating to my
ego and my penis if a girl I nearly had in my grasp were to slip my noose
at the last minute!

   The agents had bad news for me.  They had lost her.  They had been
watching her home, but she had managed to get out unobserved.  One of them
waited at her home all night to see if she would return.  She did not.  The
other agent was able to link into the GPS signals emanating from her ankle
bracelet.  He quickly went downtown and homed in on the moving signal.  He
was dismayed to find the ankle bracelet attached to a dog and not to a
girl! Then the agents knew she had definitely flown the coop.  They began
working their contacts in the law enforcement community to see if they
could get some RFID tag information that would help them follow her to
whatever place she had flown.

   They told me they were sorry not to have better news, but that was where
things stood.  They felt it was probably only a matter of time until they
would get a break, but nobody could be sure when or if.  The elation that I
had felt at the end of the trial the day before had pretty well faded on
this news.

   I had been working there for perhaps another half an hour after that
disappointing conversation when I heard a very tentative soft knocking on
my locked outer office door.  As my secretary had left for the day I went
to unlock the door.  There I saw a vision that stiffened my penis!  A
beautiful woman stood there, naked but for high heels, with the posture and
bearing of a dancer.  She was the same woman I had seen at a distance
polishing the brass earlier that afternoon in the lecture auditorium.  She
still wore the iron collar, and also a coin purse and a note from her owner
hanging about her neck.  She was slender as a reed and delicate in her
upper body, yet the musculature of her hips and legs was well developed. 
She had the typical physique of a ballerina.  Suddenly I knew who she was.
It all came back to me.  I had enslaved this woman some two years earlier!
She had been one of perhaps a thousand debtors I had taken down in court
over the last ten years.  Sometimes it was hard to remember them all.

   I remembered to breathe again.  I invited her to follow me to my inner
office.  My curiosity was getting the better of me.  I sat down but did not
immediately invite her to do so.  That might not be prudent until I learned
the purpose of her visit.  Then too I was enjoying the view of her dancer's
body.  She had assumed the "slave display position", standing erect, head
held high and legs well separated with knees slightly flexed.  Her hair was
a very dark rich brown and cascaded down almost to her waist.  Fortunately
she had it tied back in a ponytail so that it did nothing to obscure her
lovely breasts, the delicate tracery of her ribs or the flat muscular plane
of her belly.  My eyes traveled down to the rich crown of dark brown curly
pubic hair that adorned her vulva and all the sexual details of that vulva
that I could clearly perceive because of her assumed position, because of
how she was made and because of my vantage point.  Because her legs were
slightly flexed I was able to enjoy too her well defined leg muscles and
the tendons of those muscles at the crotch.  She was the very picture of
feminine sexuality!

   "Does your master always send you on errands naked?  I asked.

   "No indeed sir.  I am as you see me because I wanted to show proper
respect sir!  I thought it would be wrong to conceal my body when I am
coming here to beg you for a favor!"

   "Did your master send you to me, Vivienne?"

   "No Mr.  Steelforth, sir!  I beg you that whatever you may decide about
granting or not granting me a favor, that you will not tell him that I came
to you.  Please sir!  It would mean a whipping!"

   "Well I can't promise that just yet.  It may depend on the nature of
your request.  And what is the favor that you seek from me?" I asked.  The
growing awareness of the power I had over this lovely creature was
beginning to cause an excited stirring in my genitals.

   "You know, do you not, what my profession was before I became a slave?"
she whispered.

   Indeed I did.  Vivienne had been a ballerina with the National Ballet of
Capitallia.  In fact she was one of their principal dancers and had played
the leading role in a performance of Giselle I had very much enjoyed only
six months before I had enslaved her.  Of course I was troubled by the idea
of enslaving such a talent, but the client was insistent.  At the time I
had hoped, perhaps unrealistically, that this client, once he owned her,
would see that she had talent and find a way for her to continue to
practice the career she obviously loved, even as he used her sexually for
his own pleasure and the pleasure of his friends and business associates.

   "Well sir, I recognized your voice while I was polishing the statues at
the lecture hall this afternoon.  I heard you say to that audience that you
believed that it would be consistent with the "kinder gentler slavery" to
allow a slave to pursue an artistic or professional career!'

   "Why yes I did say that, Vivienne.  I take it your owner has not allowed
you to continue with your dance career?  How then do you maintain yourself
in such superb physical condition?  "No, he has not permitted a ballet
career, sir.  But he does insist on much daily exercise and a different
kind of dance training now in his place of business.  That is how I keep my
body fit.  I now work hard to keep up my skills and appearance as a pole
dancer for the nudie bars!'

   "What a comedown that must be after ballet!" I said.  "And what about
sex?  Does he use you that way too?"

   "He has always used me for his own sexual pleasure and often hired me
out to his friends and very important clients as a sex slave.  I was
working the VIP lounge before the lecture.  Then the lounge cleared out
when the lecture started so he found something else for me to do until the
lecture would be over.  He later sent me on an errand to buy something from
the drug store in the lobby of your building, sir.  I knew this was where
you worked and took the liberty of coming up to see you sir."

   "And what is it exactly that you want from me?" I said with mock
harshness.  I could feel my scrotum tightening and drawing my testicles up
closer to my pubis.

   "I am just asking s-sir if you could t-talk to my owner and try to
persuade him of your view that slaves should be allowed to p-pursue
careers. He might listen to a man of your stature in the industry!"

   "I will do that Vivienne, and I may go one better.  If your owner
agrees, I would be willing to talk also with the Artistic Director of your
ballet company to see if he will take you back in the company as a slave
dancer.  Would this be a shock to him?  Or have there been other enslaved
dancers in his company to your knowledge?"

   "No, it would not be a shock sir!  I know of three, one guy and two
girls, that I danced with two years ago that are back with the dance
company after their enslavements.  Their owners have them driven to and
from rehearsals and there is always a guard backstage to ensure that they
obey the Artistic Director.  Their owners don't worry about any attempted
escapes because of the bio-implants.  Apparently it is working out all
right!"

   "So you would like me to speak to him?  I think he will listen to me as
I have contributed generously to his company over the years?"

   "Yes, would you please sir?  Permission to break position to beg sir?"

   "All right!" I said with a sweep of my hand.  Vivienne broke from her
'slave display' position, dropped to her knees, then prostrated herself,
pressing her lips to my shoes and holding them there for a long moment.

   "I will do what you have asked, Vivienne.  But I think you know how the
slave system works.  If you want a favor you must be prepared to pay for it
with your body, for that is the only currency you will ever have!" My penis
was hard as a rock now.

   "That would be my pleasure, sir!" Vivienne was looking up at me with the
most wonderful mischievous smile.  I pulled open a desk drawer and took out
a leash and a pair of police style handcuffs.  I fastened the leash to the
collar around her neck, pulled her to her feet and cuffed her hands behind
her back.  I loved to fuck a handcuffed woman!  I led her into the bedroom
adjoining my office and laid her out on the bed.  I proceeded to mount her
and introduce my penis to her tunnel of love.  I plunged in and out of her
many times then just stayed inside her for a long, long time, losing none
of my hardness.  She was young enough to be my daughter.  She was a hard
body dancer and I a businessman!  All I could think of was that I was
inside a woman who would probably never have given me the time of day if
she were free.  But that made it all the more exciting!

   After a time I dismissed Vivienne.  And my thoughts turned back to the
case of Stephanie Glenn.  Although I had managed to enjoy certain intimate
liberties with her at the Creditor's Exam, I had not, as yet, had an
opportunity to fuck her.  There was a very good possibility her owner would
allow me that pleasure if only my agents could find her and bring her
forcibly back to face her jury next week.  Vivienne had been a pleasant
interlude to take my mind off the trial for a while.  But now I turned out
the lights of my office and walked to the elevator hoping that tomorrow
would bring exciting news.

   Chapter 9.  The Verdict

   I had spent the night naked in jail after my ill-fated escape attempt.
By morning I was shivering with cold as I wrapped myself in the one blanket
I had been allowed.  The cellblock, which had been dark, suddenly was full
of light and sounds as guards came through banging their batons on the bars
to wake up all the prisoners.  Soon a male guard unlocked my cell and
jerked me to my feet, handing me at the same time some jail-issue clothes.

   "Prisoner 4306!  Use the toilet if you need to.  Then put on these
clothes and comb your hair.  You are coming with me.  Now make it quick!  I
haven't got all day!" He kept idly banging his baton on the bars of my cell
door.

   I badly needed to urinate but had never done such a thing in front of a
man before.  Still it was clear that right now would be my only chance,
maybe for hours.  So I sat on the stainless steel toilet bowl that had no
seat and let go with a loud tinkling sound while he watched.  There was no
toilet paper so I splashed water from the sink on my vulva and dried myself
with a corner of the blanket.  He looked bored, probably had seen hundreds
of women relieve themselves in much the same way.  I picked up the clothes
he had brought.  They were standard summer jail issue - orange short
shorts, a sleeveless white tee shirt, bulky white socks and sneakers.  The
tee shirt was emblazoned with the words "Manhattan City Jail" in bright
orange letters.  A bra was provided and a very used threadbare pair of
panties.  I pulled everything on as quickly as I could.

   "We have no time to waste.  I'm to present you in court in twenty
minutes for your trial."

   He first cuffed my hands behind my back, then led me down the jail cell
corridor and into a waiting van that took me to the courthouse.  I was soon
seated at counsel table with my defense attorney, but still cuffed.  I
looked around and saw that Mr.  Jenkins, my nemesis and former employer,
was in attendance, as well as others I had known who had probably come to
gloat at my misfortune.  The courtroom was only about three quarters full,
though the back row, reserved for non-citizens, was entirely full.  My
attorney told me quite a few non-citizens had been turned away after the
back row filled.

   "All Rise!" Judge Morelock entered the courtroom and took his seat at
the bench and began his usual opening remarks.

   "The Third District Court of the State of New York is now in session. 
We are here today on the matter of an enslavement petition filed by the
corporation known as Richmond SlendaBond against an alleged debtor
identified in the petition as Stephanie Glenn.  Trial having been completed
and all parties being present, we will proceed."

   "Miss Glenn, your foolish attempt to flee the jurisdiction of this Court
will not go unpunished, regardless of the outcome of this trial.  It will
be necessary to make a public example of you to discourage other defendants
from trying the same tactic.  I will more fully address this matter at a
later time."

   "For the record, the jurors have not been told of the attempted escape,
but only that the case had to be adjourned because of 'schedule conflicts'.
If there are no motions at this time, I will call the jury back in and give
them an opportunity to ask any questions they may have, before releasing
them back to continue their deliberations."

   The jurors all filed solemnly back into the juror's box and were seated.

   "Have you chosen a foreperson?" the judge asked.

   "If it please the Court, my name is Robert Rickson and I have been
chosen", a tall distinguished looking man had risen to address the judge.

   "Have any questions for the Court come up in your deliberations so far?"

   "Yes, your Honor.  We wanted you to go over the instructions again as to
how we are to formulate our verdict."

   "Very well", the judge said, "You are to decide the following questions:

   (1) Has it been proven that the defendant, Stephanie Glenn, does indeed
owe the creditor, Richmond SlendaBond, the sum of at least ten thousand
dollars, and is unable to pay the same?" (2) If the debt is actually owed,
was the defendant in any way at fault for contracting this debt or for her
inability to pay it?  (3) If the debt is owed, has defendant shown a
willingness to do everything possible to discharge it while retaining her
freedom?  (4) Would enslaving this debtor likely result in extreme
psychological duress or trauma to her?  (5) State the disposition of this
case - whether the debtor should be freed, indentured for a limited number
of years to the creditor, or enslaved for life to the creditor?"

   "Your verdict must be unanimous on all five questions or I will send you
back for further deliberations until you are unanimous or until I deem
there is a hopeless impasse.  You may prescribe any disposition of the
case, including complete freedom for the debtor, regardless of your
findings on the first four questions.  You may also make any additional
recommendations to this Court concerning sentencing."

   "Thank you, your Honor.  That clears up our questions", the foreman said
and took his seat.

   "You may return to your deliberations at this time, and Court is now in
recess until further notice." The judge banged his gavel and left the
courtroom.

   My lawyer and I then retired to the lounge to await developments.  A
guard accompanied us to keep an eye on me and my handcuffs were not
released this time.  I wanted a cup of coffee so my lawyer had to make it
for me and present it to my lips.  I did not have the use of my hands. 
Time passed slowly, but after about two hours we were summoned back to the
courtroom.

   At 11:30 am the judge banged the Court back into session.

   "This Court is now in session in the matter of Richmond SlendaBond v. 
Glenn.  The jury has sent me a message they wish to report a verdict at
this time.  Bailiff, show them in please."

   Jurors filed in solemnly as before.  I noticed several of them were
looking directly at me.  My lawyer whispered to me that that was usually a
good sign.

   "Will the jury foreman stand.  Has the jury reached a verdict in this
matter?"

   "Yes we have, your Honor" Mr.  Rickson stated.

   "Bailiff, will you collect the verdict form from the foreman at this
time." There was a hush in the courtroom as we all forgot to breathe while
this took place, and the judge studied the form for a minute.  His
expression gave nothing away.

   "Mr.  Foreman, I will read the questions one by one and ask you to
answer as to the jury's verdict.  " the judge intoned.

   "On the first question: Do you find that this defendant owes the
creditor at least ten thousand dollars and is unable to pay?"

   "We so find, your Honor."

   "On the second question: Do you find that this defendant is in any way
at fault for contracting this debt or for her inability to pay it?"

   "We find this defendant to be without fault, your Honor." I breathed a
sigh of relief at this, and heard my lawyer do likewise.  I also thought I
heard some expression of disappointment from the gallery.  The judge banged
his gavel for order.

   "On the third question: Do you find that this defendant has shown a
willingness to do everything possible to discharge this debt while
retaining her freedom?"

   "No we do not, your Honor!" My heart was in my throat at this
announcement.

   "On the fourth question: Would enslaving this defendant likely result in
extreme psychological duress or trauma?"

   "Yes, we believe it would, your Honor."

   "On the fifth question: What shall be the disposition?  Shall the
defendant be freed, indentured for a limited time, or enslaved for life?"

   "This defendant shall be indentured to this creditor for a term of ten
years, your Honor."

   At this, there were murmurs of glee from some spectators in the gallery.
One whistled.  Others were openly weeping for me.  The judge banged his
gavel for order.

   "So say you all?  If any juror does not support this verdict, let him
speak now." Silence.

   "Does the jury have any special recommendations, before I pass
sentence?"

   "We have two, your Honor.  First, we believe that since Miss Glenn is a
professional person and is not at fault in this matter, that she should be
permitted, while under the complete control of her creditor, to pursue her
profession with all earnings from professional or other work to be the
property of creditor.  Second, we believe that due to Miss Glenn's delicate
nature, there is risk of trauma, and that creditor should be required to
provide psychological counseling for her so that she can survive this
indenture with her mental health intact."

   "My thanks to the jury", the judge said.  "There is one final duty for
the jury, and that is to be present for the reading of the sentence and
bear witness to the actual reduction to indentured slavery of the
defendant. As jurors you will be asked to sign as witnesses that this has
been done in your presence.  Prior to sentencing, however, I am required by
Public Law 96-012 to order that baseline physical and mental tests be
performed upon the defendant for use in monitoring her subsequent well
being under the indenture.  Accordingly Court will be in recess until 9am
tomorrow morning so that this can be accomplished.  I will confer with
counsel now in my chambers and consider the sentence to be imposed.  When
we reconvene at 9am we will have sentencing and the 'Ceremony of Indenture'
that is open to the public and will complete this proceeding." With that,
he banged the gavel and people started to file out of the room.

  
***************************************************************************
************

   My attorney whispered to me that we were wanted in judge's chambers
along with Mr.  Steelforth and the StendaBond attorney.  So I followed him
to chambers, still handcuffed, and the guard followed me.  I was conscious
of my scanty attire as the building was highly air conditioned and I could
feel a cool draft on my bare legs and arms.  As we entered chambers I
noticed that Mr.  Steelforth hung back for a while to make a phone call. 
He rejoined us just as the judge came in.  I quickly dropped to my knees
before the judge's desk at a signal from my attorney.  I was no longer a
free person and no longer entitled to be treated as such.

   "The reason I wanted to see you all in my chambers is to discuss this
surprise recommendation of the jury that Miss Glenn be allowed to practice
her profession while under indenture.  This is rather unusual since it is
normally thought that the characteristic unquestioning obedience required
of a person under indenture is not compatible with the kind of discretion
normally needed by a professional person to carry out professional
responsibilities."

   "Your Honor, we object to this ..." the SlendaBond attorney started to
say, but got cut off by Mr.  Steelforth.

   "I have just spoken with our client, your Honor, and he is quite
amenable to working out something consistent with the jury's
recommendation. He is prepared to allow Miss Glenn to work in her field as
an accountant, to exercise professional discretion and work under minimal
supervision in her professional work, while yet being under slave
discipline and the need for instant and unquestioning obedience in her, er
...other duties!"

   "You mean her sexual duties, counselor?" the judge asked.

   "Yes, your Honor.  I did not want to state it so baldly, but yes."

   I sat and listened to all this from my lowly position on the floor.  All
these men were discussing me as though I were not even in the room.

   "You have been quite an advocate for allowing slaves to continue their
professional careers, have you not Bill?" the judge asked.

   "Yes, your Honor, I gave a talk on that very idea just last Saturday at
the symposium."

   "I heard something about that.  I take it defense counsel has no
objection to this rather unusual arrangement?"

   "No, indeed, your Honor.  It sounds as though she will have a much less
degrading experience during the ten years of her indenture if this can be
worked out!"

   "And the counseling?"

   "My client is willing to provide for that also", Mr.  Steelforth agreed.

   "Then we are all in agreement", the judge summarized.  Meeting
adjourned."

   For lunch my guard handcuffed me in front, so that I could have limited
use of my hands for eating and drinking.  In the restaurant I was shivering
with cold in my jail short shorts and sleeveless tee shirt so I asked the
waitress if she could provide me a tablecloth to drape over my legs.  She
obliged.

   "Can't we appeal?" I said in a pleading tone to my attorney.

   "Stephanie, I need to explain something to you.  Appellate courts only
will hear arguments alleging that the trial judge made an error in applying
the law.  They will not second guess juries on questions of fact.  In your
case the judge has done everything by the book, so I don't see any error of
law."

   "But couldn't we at least try?  What could it hurt to try?" I wailed.

   "It could hurt a great deal Stephanie.  Appellate courts don't like
their time wasted with frivolous arguments.  On cases like yours, if they
felt we had no real argument of law, they would very likely increase your
sentence, perhaps by as much as two or three years."

   "Then is there no hope at all?" I said in a very subdued voice, tears
running down my face.

   "Trust that I will be following your case as further developments
unfold, and if I see facts developing that would warrant it, I can call for
an evidentiary hearing on those facts."

   My attorney went on to explain to me that this "professional slavery" as
he called it, might well be saving me from spending the next ten years as a
public prostitute.  He quickly added that there might still be sexual
services demanded of me by the owner of my indenture, in addition to
professional services.  But these services would likely be only for the
entertainment of my owner and perhaps a few of his friends, rather than the
general public.  I would not be turning tricks for money.

   After lunch my attorney and the guard escorted me to Examination
Services on the sixth floor of the courthouse.  There I received a standard
medical examination and was interviewed by a psychologist and took a
standard IQ test and a standard test of general knowledge.  Then it was
back to the jail for the night.



   Promptly at 9 am the next morning the judge banged the Court back into
session.  My guard brought me to court in the same jail shorts and tee
shirt I had worn the day before and had again cuffed my hands behind me. 
The bailiffs had allowed even more spectators in so that it was standing
room only.  Word about the "Ceremony of Indenture" had evidently gotten
around, and many had come to witness my humiliation.  The jurors had all
filed back into the jury box.

   "This Court is now again in session in the matter of Richmond Slendabond
v.  Glenn.  The jury having rendered its verdict, we are here now for
sentencing and for the 'Ceremony of Indenture'."

   "IT IS THE ORDER OF THIS COURT THAT THE ALTERNATIVE PETITION BY THE
PLAINTIFF, RICHMOND SLENDABOND, TO INDENTURE THE DEFENDANT, STEPHANIE
GLENN, BE AND HEREBY IS GRANTED FOR A TERM OF TEN YEARS, AND THAT OWNERSHIP
OF HER INDENTURE AND PHYSICAL CUSTODY OF HER PERSON BE CONVEYED BY THIS
COURT TO SAID PLAINTIFF, ALONG WITH A DOCUMENT OF TITLE TO ANY AND ALL
PERSONAL PROPERTY OR REAL ESTATE THAT SHE MAY POSSESS, AT THE CONCLUSION OF
THIS PROCEEDING."

   "IT IS FURTHER ORDERED THAT PLAINTIFF SHALL ALLOW THE INDENTUREE
OPPORTUNITY TO PRACTICE HER PROFESSION UNDER HIS GENERAL SUPERVISION AND
CONTROL, IN ADDITION TO ANY NON PROFESSIONAL DUTIES HE MAY PRESCRIBE, AND
SHALL ALSO PROVIDE FOR HER MEDICAL DENTAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL CARE DURING THE
TERM OF HER INDENTURE."

   "IT IS FURTHER ORDERED THAT THIS ENSLAVEMENT SHALL BE NON-PUNITIVE IN
CHARACTER PURSUANT TO PUBLIC LAW 96-012, AND THAT PLAINTIFF, OR SUBSEQUENT
PARTY HOLDING INDENTURE SHALL MAINTAIN RECORDS SUBJECT TO AUDIT BY ANY
CERTIFIED SLAVE ADVOCACY ORGANIZATION."

   "At this point there is a ceremony", the judge continued, prescribed by
law for judicial indentures which requires that certain things be done in
open court and that it is the final duty of the jury to witness that these
things have been done and to affix their signatures as witnesses to the
ceremony'".

   "The law also prescribes, that a person about to lose his or her freedom
to indenture for a term of years, shall present himself or herself humbly
to the jury.  It is a sign of servility that the one about to be indentured
must show to the Court, to his or her jurors and to his or her betters in
the courtroom."

   I was then made to face my jurors, kneel to them and thank them for
indenturing me!  While in this position a machine was wheeled up behind me.
I stole a quick glance and saw what appeared to be a giant hypodermic
needle and means for strapping a person's head into a harness.  The judge
sharply ordered me to only look forward toward the jury and to make eye
contact with jurors.  I felt hands strapping my neck to the machine and
clamping my head in place so that I could not move.  Then a bailiff was
swabbing my neck with some cool liquid that smelled like alcohol.  I felt a
sharp sting in my neck, searing heat and a loud report like a gunshot
echoing in the courtroom.  The room swirled around me for a moment as some
of the jurors looked on sympathetically and many in the gallery smirked.  I
felt a bandage being applied to the back of my neck.

   I knew that my neck had been penetrated by something!  Then my head
cleared in time to hear the judge saying something to the jurors to the
effect that "if she ever tries to run now we will have no difficulty
tracking her!" I later learned that they had injected a bio-implant in my
head that would transmit a unique serial number to satellites for the term
of my indenture that would make me always identifiable and locatable by
police agencies all over the world!  This bio-implant would also monitor my
vital functions and radio transmit that information as well, and was
capable of receiving a coded transmission initiated by my owner that would
do various things to my body!

   If the judge had meant to break my spirit right here in front of jurors
and spectators he had done so.  Every shred of dignity had been taken from
me in this proceeding!  Soon all my bonds were released and I was spun
around to face my jury in a standing position that they might enjoy the
sight of me broken, my body wracked with sobs, and tears streaming down my
face!  I could not face the jury.  I just could not!  I hung my head and
closed my eyes!  One of the bailiffs dried my tears.  Then the judge
ordered me to stand erect, hold my head high, open my eyes and make eye
contact with each and every juror!  When I was slow to comply I felt a
paddle slam into my buttocks!  I straightened up and opened my eyes.  I did
not want to be hit again!  I saw smirks in the eyes of some spectators who,
I suspected had much enjoyed my humiliation a moment before and further
enjoyed seeing me slammed upright just now!

   "Young lady," the judge intoned, "this is as good a time as any for you
to begin learning that instant obedience is required of you in your new
life as an indentured slave."

   There were titters of amusement everywhere and I saw more smirks and
knowing smiles!  God!  Did no one care about my dignity as a human being
who had just been stripped of her freedom?  Even my own lawyer seemed
amused.

   "THE FINAL PART OF MY ORDER TODAY CONCERNS THE MATTER OF YOUR WILFUL
ATTEMPT TO FLEE THE JURISDICTION OF THIS COURT.  IT IS THE LAW THAT ALL
SUCH ATTEMPTS MUST BE PUBLICLY PUNISHED TO SET AN EXAMPLE TO OTHERS WHO
MIGHT BE TEMPTED TO FLEE.  THE COURT ORDERS THAT YOU BE TAKEN TO THE
NEAREST PUBLIC SLAVE AUCTION PLATFORM AND WHILE AT THAT PLACE HAVE YOUR
SLAVE NUMBER BURNED INTO YOUR NAKED BUTTOCKS.  THIS IS NOT ONLY TO PUNISH
YOU FOR FLEEING, BUT ALSO TO IMPRESS UPON YOUR MIND THAT YOU ARE NO LONGER
A FREE PERSON, BUT THAT YOU ARE, FOR THE NEXT TEN YEARS UNDER THE ABSOLUTE
CONTROL OF ANOTHER."

   The judge ordered me to thank the jury again for indenturing me.  This
time I was to prostrate myself on the ground before the jury, holding my
forehead in contact with the floor until given permission to rise.  While I
remained in this position he had the bailiff pass the witness form to the
jurors for their signatures, certifying that they had personally witnessed
my fall from freedom.

   "At this time I thank the members of the jury for their service.  The
jury is discharged.  Go home!"

   The jurors filed out one by one, casting glances at the former free girl
who now lay enslaved, and prostrate on the floor.

   "Court is now adjourned."

  
***************************************************************************
*************************

   The judge had not said I could rise from the floor.  But Mr.  Steelforth
came to get me and bade me rise.  He put a steel collar around my neck and
attached a leash.

   "You belong to us now, Miss Glenn!  Regrettably you have a date with the
branding iron now that must be gotten out of the way before we can begin
introducing you to your new life."

   He led me, still handcuffed and in my jail shorts, out to the public
corridor and down the elevator to the courthouse garage, where a van was
waiting to take me to my rendezvous on the public slave platform.  I soon
found myself on that same sawdust covered stage in front of a crowd where
my lawyer had taken me before trial to show me what slavery meant.

   Mr.  Steelforth presented me to the master of ceremonies along with a
copy of the judge's order for my branding.  While the M.C.  read the order
I looked out upon the crowd.  To my horror there was my nemesis again, Mr.
Jenkins, and several of the same coworkers from that company who had
watched my trial.  Here they were to gloat again.  The Master of Ceremonies
then announced to the crowd that there was to be a bit of extra
entertainment that afternoon.  I saw and heard smirks and guffaws from the
mostly male crowd.  Then the M.C.  noted that the order called for me to be
branded naked abd signaled to a guard to strip me.

   "Guard, since she is handcuffed already, you will need to assist her in
meeting this requirement."

   The guard stooped down in front of me as I remained seated and removed
my shoes and socks.  Then he made me stand, removed my jewelry and used a
pair of scissors to cut off first my tee shirt and bra, then my jail short
shorts and panties.  There was laughter, some jeering and more guffaws and
wolf whistles from the crowd.  I was glad that I at least could keep my
legs together.  I knew they could see very little of my vulva with all that
pubic hair down there and thighs close together.

   The guard bent me over a bench atop the stage, with my buttocks toward
the crowd, my back horizontal at approximately eye level for the crowd, and
my feet well apart.  I was secured in this obscene posture by various
devices.  Looking over my shoulder I could make out the faces of the first
couple of rows of spectators.  Several of the men were smirking at my
predicament.  I was quite certain those in the first two or three rows
could see not only my bare ass but also my labia, clitoral hood and pubic
hair between my legs.  It seemed particularly degrading to be forced to put
on such a display while restrained in such a demeaning posture.  A fat
woman in this posture would show little or none of her sexual anatomy
because her fat thighs and fat ass cheeks would mercifully conceal those
parts.  But I, with my so slender thighs and so compact ass ovals, knew
that I would be showing everything!

   I could sense every one's eyes focused on my crotch!  I started to cry!
Tears streamed down my face at the irretrievable loss of my modesty.  They
had all SEEN my most intimate and sexual parts displayed for their
amusement.  They could all choose to keep that vision among their best
memories for life and experience the pleasure (at my expense) forever.  I
could not take any of that vision of me back from them.

   Just before I felt the searing pain they told me that it would be my
slave number that would be burned into my flesh marking me as what I now
was.  I began to cry uncontrollably as soon as i knew what they were about
to do to me.  It was so degrading and so final and so humiliating that
these things were done to me in the presence of my enemies.  An instant
later humiliation was the least of my problems.  I thought pain was a
stubbed toe.  This pain was so intense and I screamed so loud I felt sure
that I had shattered some of the beer glasses in the crowd.  Then I was
sobbing uncontrollably not just tears but my whole body wracked with
convulsions.

   Mr.  Steelforth then stepped up to collect me, re-attached his leash and
placed a cape around my shoulders as he led me away to my new life.

  
***************************************************************************
**************************

   To be continued if there is sufficient interest.  Please provide
feedback to author at dondaverse at yahoo dot com.


   

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