Chapter 33.   The Fate of Jenkins

After several weeks I received a call from Slendabond that Jenkins’ obedience training was complete and that he was ready for the next stage of his new life.  I arranged with the Rogers Secure Transport Company to have Jenkins picked up and brought to Masterson Automotive.  He was docile enough now that I really didn’t need to use armed guards.  I could have picked him up myself but felt uncomfortable about being alone with him in my own car.  I had specified that he be transported naked and with his hands cuffed behind him.   I was there to meet him when the Rogers van pulled into the parking garage in the Masterson Building,

“OK guys, I think I can handle him from this point.” I brightly announced to the two uniformed Rogers guards.  “I have a stun gun if he gives me any trouble!”

“Very well Miss.  Here are the keys to his handcuffs.”

There was a gleaming steel collar about his neck that was engraved with the words “Property of Stephanie Glenn”.  Part of my arrangement with Greg Masterson was that Jenkins would have to wear this collar, and nothing else, the whole time he worked at Masterson.  I reached into my purse and extracted a leather leash that I snapped onto his collar.  

“I would like to suggest what we call a ‘persuader’ Miss – just as a backup”, one of the Rogers guards said handing me a curious ring with two hinged halves and a second much lighter weight leash.

“What you do is snap this ring closed over the end of his penis – just behind the glans.  Then you attach this second leash to the locked penis ring.  Believe me ma’am they do come along promptly when they feel their genitals being pulled!”

I liked this idea.  I probably didn’t need it to control Jenkins, but it would add to his humiliation as he was brought back to his old domain.

“Do you want me to put the ring on him for you ma’am?” the guard offered helpfully, sensing my hesitation.

“No, I think I can do it”, I replied, trying to project a confident and authoritative manner.

With my left hand I reached down and gingerly grasped Jenkins’ ‘little man’ between my thumb and index finger.  I lifted it up to a horizontal position.  This felt a bit strange since I once feared this penis that was the symbol of male authority over me when I had been a slave.   But I told myself there was no reason to feel apprehensive now about handling something that was my property.  It could not harm me now.  Tom’s dick felt like a warm sausage between my index finger and thumb – except that I could feel his pulse in it.  While holding the penis steady with my left hand I used my right hand to snap the two halves of the ring together around the end of Tom’s cock and just behind the glans as the guard had said.  I heard a click as the ring became locked in position.

“There is a key to open the penis ring on the same ring with his handcuff keys”, the guard said.  “And you may want to use one of these”, he said, “handing me a moist towelette.”

I thanked the two guards for their help and I led him toward the elevators.  He now had absolutely no choice but to follow where I led him.  

Soon we were emerging on the floor where the Accounting Department, his former empire, was located.  He hung his head in shame as I led him down the main hallway past all the cubicles where his former subordinates worked on their journals and reports.  They all stared in amazement at their former boss, at how far he had fallen.   

I sensed that he would like to have covered his privates with his hands but this was not possible, as his hands had been cuffed behind his back.   Some of his former employees stared openly at his flabby buttocks or at his exposed genitals and remarked to one another within his hearing that he was not hung nearly as well as they once imagined. We passed by the “fishbowl” conference room and cubicles and saw that nobody was working in that area today.

I had taken him by a circuitous route on a full tour of his former domain.  Finally we hopped on the elevator again up to the executive suite where Greg Masterson’s office was located.  

We had to stand for a while in front of the desk of Masterson’s Executive Secretary, waiting for her to get off the phone.  Finally she gave us her full attention.  She and Jenkins had been very well acquainted for many years with Jenkins having been, until quite recently, one of her corporate superiors.  

Although she was accustomed to seeing naked slaves in her office, I noticed that she did not look at any part of Jenkins’ body lower than his shoulders.  Perhaps this was out of respect for what he had once been to her,

“Sorry to see you in such fallen circumstances, Tom”, she said softly and with an expression of wistful sadness on her face.  “Perhaps you will find some satisfaction in doing the kind of work you love again here at Masterson, even though it will be under, very, well, different circumstances.”

Jenkins just stood before her with his head bowed.  He had been trained not to speak unless someone asked him a direct question.

Soon we were ushered into Greg’s office.  Vicki Watson, who had once been the Assistant Manager of Accounting under Jenkins had been seated but rose to meet us.  Jenkins had fired her within the first few weeks after I had originally come to work at Masterson as a free employee.  She averted her gaze as soon as she realized Jenkins was naked.

“Good to see you again Tom”, Greg began, “even though under circumstances neither of us would have ever imagined!”

Jenkins just stood there with head bowed, as this was a statement and not a question and he had not been given permission to speak

“I decided if you were going to be a slave for twenty years”, Greg continued, “you might as well serve out your slavery right here in the company you helped me to build!  We can use your talents here, Tom.  You have permission to speak now.  Do you think you can find your situation bearable and do good professional work for me again Tom?”

“Is all this necessary?  I mean my being here naked with a leash on my collar and another leash on my penis?”

I do have to honor the terms of your enslavement, so that I won’t be able to make you as comfortable as you and I might both prefer.”

“I am sure you remember your former assistant, Miss Watson.”

Jenkins just stared at her.

“Miss Watson is now the head of the department you once headed.  You will now be here as a slave-consultant.  Miss Watson will be your boss.  Do you think Ms. Glenn, that we might, for purposes of this meeting, let him out of his handcuffs and leash?”

“I am OK with that Greg”, I said as I unclipped the collar leash and used my key to remove Jenkins handcuffs.   I also detached the penis leash but left the penis ring locked on Tom.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Jenkins”.  I said as I extracted a small paddle from my purse and gave him a swat across his buttocks. 

I was pleased to see him erecting in response to this stimulus.  I had instructed Richmond Slendabond to make that part of his slave conditioning.  I wanted to make sure I could make him erect under circumstances, such as now, where it might be particularly humiliating for him.

“Greg, I mean sir, and you too Miss Watson”, Jenkins began. “I apologize for this,” he said looking down at his erect penis and hanging his head.  “I don’t know what made me do this.  Just embarrassment I guess.”

“Down little Jenkins!” I ordered and Jenkins erection promptly began to subside.  

I had, by my command to Jenkins, triggered one of hundreds of post-hypnotic suggestions that had been trained into him during his time at Richmond Slendabond.

“Don’t worry about it Tom!” Masterson replied.  “There will doubtless be many times you are seen around this building with a stiff dick in the years to come.  We will all learn to just deal with it.  And you will have to learn to deal with it as well.”

“Yes sir.  I understand sir.” Jenkins responded in a dying voice.

“Actually I think your sexual impulses may help to motivate you to perform your duties for me with more enthusiasm than otherwise.  That is why I persuaded Ms. Glenn to let you keep your testicles!”

Jenkins looked at me and just nodded his head in thanks.  He had heard this information earlier at the time of his sentencing, but it still had an effect on him.

“I didn’t let you keep your balls just so you could have a good time!” I rejoined.  “My purpose in doing so was partly to motivate you to work hard for Greg, but also I wanted to be sure you were capable of sexual responses so we could train you to have a normal response and a proper respect for females.”

“How do you plan to train him?”  Miss Watson asked, obviously interested in what would happen to her new subordinate.

“He will be undergoing an involuntary sex-training regime”, I responded, “under the supervision of the company psychologist and a sex surrogate partner.  He will learn to experience sexual pleasure only when he interacts with females on a basis of equality, mutual respect, and mutual desire!  If the treatment is successful he will have no more desire to rape anyone.”

Miss Watson nodded her head and gave us a smug smile.

“I have just one question for you Jenkins”, I continued.  “On my first day of slavery here, when you raped me for the first time, you told me you just had to have me and that you went to Greg Masterson who listened to your desire and started the ball rolling for my enslavement.  That was a lie wasn’t it?”

“Yes Ms. Glenn, it was a lie.  I actually went to Mel Zigler and persuaded him to start the ball rolling”, Jenkins replied, hanging his head.

“Why would you lie about a thing like that?”  I demanded.

“Because I wanted you to think the fix was in from the very top.  I wanted you to think that it would be useless to go to Masterson and protest that you had been framed.  I wanted you to think he was in on it.”

Masterson gave Jenkins a cold stare.

“So, after all the years you and I have worked together, you were willing to slander me?” Masterson demanded of his former employee.

“Yes sir, and I ask your forgiveness”, Jenkins said in a dying voice.

There was a very long time when you could have heard a pin drop.  I wasn’t sure whether Masterson was about to change his mind about Jenkins.  At long last he broke the silence.

“In light of the slander you have just confessed to, I would ask Ms. Glenn to expand your treatment program to deal with your lying problem.”

“No problem Greg”, I responded.  “I will discuss with Paul how we might best treat him for that.”

“Greg”, I continued, “according to the terms of our lease agreement concerning Tom, he must earn any privileges he is given here.  He starts out at level one – zero privileges.  This means that at any time he needs to travel from his office to a meeting here in the building, a uniformed female security guard will escort him.   She will escort him naked everywhere, handcuffed and on a leash.  She will carry a stun gun.  He is only to be given the use of his hands at times and places where he actually needs his hands.”

“Yes, I will see that these terms are followed as per our agreement, Stephanie” Greg responded. 

“In fact”, I continued, “I have discovered that I really like the penis leash concept.  So I am going to require that the female security guard always attach the penis leash when escorting him anywhere!”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Masterson asked.

“I am his owner and it is what I want – for now.  I will consider giving him more privileges later on – but only when he has earned them”, I replied.

Greg seemed eager to change the subject to something more pleasant.

“Tom, Ms. Glenn has indicated to me that if she is satisfied with your progress in treatment she may consider setting you free long before the 20 year sentence is up.”

“Does that mean I could be a free employee here again with a salary?” Tom asked.

“That would depend.  If I am also satisfied with both your sex treatment and your professional work product that outcome might be possible.  That should give you some incentive to work hard in your treatment program as well as in your job.”

“Miss Watson will now take you to the ‘Fishbowl’ conference room where she will brief you on your new duties.  Then she will assign you to one of the cubicles in the Fishbowl where you will do most of your work, shackled and on constant display as you once required Ms. Glenn to work!  I would like you to stay Ms. Glenn as you and I have some other business.”

“Miss Watson”, I interjected, “here in this folder are all the post-hypnotic suggestions that you may need to control him.  You should now handcuff him again and attach both the collar leash and the penis leash before leading him back into the accounting department.  Once the female security guard has been assigned for Tom she can take over these duties.”

As soon as she led Jenkins out by his dual leashes Greg Masterson turned to me.

“Stephanie, when we discussed Jenkins many weeks ago you made it a condition of your cooperation that I look into the situations of Rebecca Sanchez, our clean room supervisor, and also that of your dancer friend, Jennifer Maisten.” 

“As you now know, Bill and I have resolved Jennifer’s status.  She is now an indentured servant, not a slave, works only a standard work week instead of 24/7, and may be in line to receive full freedom in far less time than her original sentence called for.  I trust you will grant that I have fulfilled my word in her case?”

“Indeed you have”, I replied. 

“Let us move on to Rebecca Sanchez then.   Her case was easier because she was only a debtor and not under criminal sentence.  She is only an indentured servant and since I hold her indenture, I have some flexibility in her case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you would like to briefly renew your acquaintance with her.  Let’s visit the clean room.”

I nodded and with that he led the way to the elevator and another part of the building I had seen a few times before.  It was the circuit board assembly area.  Because it was a clean room environment we had to take our shoes off before entering and don clean suits.  

As we entered I saw row after row of girls with nimble fingers putting components on circuit boards.  Each row consisted of 20 teenage girls and a supervisor just as I had experienced a year ago.  The girls were still as naked as ever and still appeared to be quite thin.  I noted that the supervisors at the end of each row wore minimal attire such as short shorts and a halter top.  

“Our supervisors are all indentured servants”, Masterson explained, “and they all work for us only 8 hours/day and are free to go home to their families at the end of each workday and on weekends.  They are required to be obedient during working hours but they are also treated with dignity.”

“I see that these supervisors at least are permitted to dress modestly”, I remarked.

“On the job”, he replied, “they are permitted to wear as much clothing as they wish, though most dress in very brief attire as you see since the temperature and humidity of the room are set high to keep all the naked girls comfortable.” 

“Mr. Masterson, why are all those girls still naked?  I thought the new reform law named after me would put an end to indentured servants being worked naked?  Surely they are not all under sexual indenture are they?”

“No, if you are referring to court ordered indentures.  But these girls have voluntarily indentured themselves for terms of 3 to 6 years.  They do this as part of an apprenticeship contract where they are promised in return that they will be trained and have a marketable skill at the end of their service.”   

“But why was the switch made from free labor to indentured labor?”  I asked.

“Stephanie, when you last worked for us you were working on a project to study the feasibility of our converting from free labor to apprentice labor. “

“I was?”  I said, astonished that I had no memory of ever working on such a project.

“You don’t remember anything about the project because Ted Duncan instructed Richmond Slendabond to wipe out all your memory on that subject at the conclusion of the project.  He was acting pursuant to a policy that I established years ago.”  

“But why?”  I asked.

“I regret that we had to do that, Stephanie, but it was a necessary step to make sure that proprietary information that we had paid for would not fall into the hands of our competitors.”

“OK I get that.  But I still think that if I had worked on something like that I would have recommended the company stick with free labor!”

“Not necessarily.  I read your report Stephanie.  But I was more interested in all the facts and data you had assembled than I was interested in your conclusions.”

“Do these girls all know they will be working naked before they sign up for indentured service?”  I wanted to know.

“The terms”, he continued, “are all laid out for them before they make the commitment.  When we interview a girl for an apprenticeship job in this part of our plant we explain to her that if she accepts she will be working nude.”

“So why do they accept such a condition?”  I wanted to know.

“It happens that there are a lot more teenagers who want jobs than there are jobs – so it is an employer’s market.  I find nudity to be a great convenience in my clean room, both for dust control reasons and because of the frequent exercise breaks we give the girls.”

“Forgive my bluntness sir, but are those the only reasons for their nudity?”

“I won’t deny I also enjoy the aesthetics of having a roomful of naked teenage girls in my plant.  I think my customers also enjoy the sight when we bring them through on tours.  The girls are not kept naked for purposes of humiliating them.”
 
“OK” I said.  I knew when I had lost an argument.  “But where is my friend Rebecca?”

“Right this way”, he replied. 

He led me up a small flight of stairs to a glassed in office area that commanded a birds eye view of the assembly floor.  I was ever so much more comfortable once we entered this air-conditioned space.  The air was dry here and perhaps 15 or 20 degrees cooler than the assembly floor.  There were several women and a couple of men working in this area, entering data into computers and so on.  All were fully dressed in appropriate business attire.  The women wore long dresses, hosiery and high heels.  

We proceeded to a small private office in the corner of this larger room.  On the door was a sign that said “Manager”.  Masterson knocked.  After a brief delay a woman I well knew opened the door and gave us a most warm and gracious smile.  It was Rebecca.  We hugged.  It was the first time I had ever seen her wearing clothes.

“As you can see by the sign on the door”, she explained, “I am now the manager of this whole department.”

“But I see by your wristband that you are still indentured!”  I blurted out.

“My indenture was for 5 years.  I have worked only one year of that so far.  It is important to my self-respect to work off my debt.  I don’t mind doing that as long as I am treated with dignity and allowed to have a life after hours with my family.”  

“And what of your future?  Have you thought about that?”  I replied.

“Mr. Masterson has indicated that if I keep up the productivity of this department at the present rate, that he might release me from the indenture in one more year!”   

“That’s right, and I might let her continue to manage this department as a free employee if I wish and at a generous salary.”

Just then Rebecca’s phone rang and, after a brief conversation she made her excuses.

“Maybe we can catch up later, Steph.  Right now I have an emergency on the floor I have to deal with.”

With that she was off.  Masterson and I found our way back to the entry area and took off our clean suits and reclaimed our shoes.  As we made our way back to the elevators I expressed my thanks.

“I know you did not have to do this for Rebecca.”  After all the law that bears my name would not be retroactive to indentured servants already in service prior to the new law.

“I did it to keep my word to you.  And because I thought it would prove to be a good business decision.  I am getting more productivity from Rebecca now than I ever did when we treated her like a slave.”

When we came back to his office he asked me to step inside for a moment.

“Stephanie, have you heard the news about Zigler?”

“I have been informed”, I replied, “about some things by the detective agency my attorney retained.”

“How much do you already know?” 

“That somehow the guy managed”, I said, “to elude the arrest warrant that was out for him here”, I continued.  “Then that arrogant son of a bitch decided to set up a new plant in China to take advantage of the new labor conditions there.”  

“That’s right”, Greg replied. “He wanted to operate in an environment where anything goes – where slaves have no rights and there are no slave advocates.”  

“Did you hear how he managed to establish a large plant in that country?”

“He had raised quite a bit of capital from some shadowy persons here in Capitallia.  He then bribed Chinese officials”, I continued, “to get all the licenses he needed to setup a new plant and staff it with Chinese criminal slaves.  He quickly began making money hand over fist.”  

“When you learned all that I bet you were fit to be tied!” Masterson replied.

“I was furious.  I had my attorney draft an appeal to Capitallia’s State Department to request their assistance in getting him extradited back to face justice for his criminal conviction in my case.  The State Department did draft an official letter demanding extradition in compliance with the treaty between our two countries.  But we have heard nothing of substance from the Chinese.”

“I may be able to fill you in on the rest of the story” Masterson replied.  Just yesterday the Chinese government announced they had arrested him for bribery of their officials.  They have nationalized his factory.  He will get a trial on the bribery charges.  If convicted he will face the death penalty under Chinese law.”

“But what about me?  I was already awarded ownership of Mel Zigler.  If I am not going to get him back I should be entitled to financial compensation!”

“I agree” was Masterson’s response.  “If you got him back perhaps you would give me the opportunity to ask him a question or two about the way he mismanaged my business while I was in South America.  Plus I would like to see the son-of-a-bitch suffer the twenty years slavery you sentenced him to!  Execution is too easy an out for this guy!”

“Is there anything we could do?”  I wanted to know.

“I do know a couple of Senators whose elections I helped to finance.  They owe me a favor or two.  They can’t throw money or projects in my direction under our strict constitutional form of government.  But, sure as hell, they can make a couple of phone calls to help our case.  I think those fellows at State will try a little harder if they get calls from Senators.”

“Sounds worth trying” I replied.  With that we adjourned our meeting. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later I got a call from the company’s psychologist, Paul Gregory.  I probably owed my freedom in no small measure to that man’s intervention.  He wanted me to know that Jenkins sex training had begun.  He invited me over to see a demonstration.  At first he filled me in a bit on the treatment protocol while we sipped our coffees.

Shortly a Sherry Wilson, the sex surrogate Masterson had told me about, joined us.  I found her very personable as she explained what her role would be.

“My role”, she began, “will be minimal at first, since the initial treatment consists of aversive conditioning.  Mr. Gregory and the lab technician will be monitoring all his sexual visualizations and his sexual responses to various stimuli.   When he has inappropriate sexual ideas – like the desire to rape innocent women – he will be punished by passing painful electric currents through his genitals.  Gradually he will learn that such thoughts and desires are not permissible.  Mr. Jenkins will be restrained during this phase.”

“But you are talking”, I said,  “as if you will be able to read his mind!  You talk as if you will always know if he is having good sexual thoughts or bad sexual thoughts – so you can reward or punish him accordingly.  How is that possible?”

“Actually we can read his mind”, Paul interjected, “at least when it comes to his sexual desires and impulses.  Here I think a picture would be worth 1000 words.  In just a moment we will go into the training lab and see how we do that.”

“OK.  I get the aversive conditioning part.  But then what is your role in his treatment Sherry?”  I asked.

“Later in the program”, she responded, “I will be brought in as a surrogate sex partner for Mr. Jenkins.  At first he will continue to be restrained and I will simply provide him with sexual pleasure through manual stimulation of his genitals whenever we detect that he is having appropriate sexual fantasies and desires.  It is important to reward as well as punish him to bring about change.”  

“Is that the whole program Sherry?”

“Not quite.  Later we will remove his restraints and allow him to interact in a more normal way with me.  As long as he is respectful and considerate toward me I will reward him sexually – with my fingers, with my mouth, and ultimately with my vagina.”

“It’s time to see how all this works!” Paul announced.

He then spoke briefly on the intercom to a technician in the lab that we were on our way.  The three of us went down a corridor to a door marked “Restricted Entry” where Paul used his passkey to admit us all into the lab.  

In the lab we saw a mostly naked Tom Jenkins lying face up on a bench, with a wide leather belt holding his waist to the bench and his wrists and ankles restrained to the bench with Velcro straps.  There was a small ‘modesty drape’ about the size of a washcloth covering his genitals.  Tom was still portly but it seemed to me that the trainers at Richmond Slendabond had managed to get his weight down a bit and develop his muscle tone.  

Next to him there was a very attractive female technician.

“How is it going Denise?” Paul queried of the technician.

She wore a white starched uniform, consisting of jacket and miniskirt, white nylons and white high heels.  She could not have been more than 19 years old.  She was fiddling with some controls on bedside instruments.

“Super Mr. Gregory.  This equipment is awesome!  When I tell the other girls I hang with about this job they will be like - amazed and I will be like - so excited!”

“Just keep it very general.  Don’t go into any details about our procedures or reveal any names of our subjects.  Now fill us in a bit about the progress you are making.”

“Tom tried to like - fool me at first.  He wouldn’t – you know – react to the visual stuff I fed him through his goggles.  But I was able to catch his attempts at faking and like, you know, punish him!”

“That is just great Denise.   Denise is a high school senior.  I picked her because she is so bright and so interested in the work we do here!   Denise, I’d like to introduce you to Stephanie Glenn, Tom’s owner.”

“Serious?” Denise exclaimed excitedly.  “I read about you in the news.   And you actually own Mr. Jenkins now?  Geez – it’s like – awesome to meet you!”

“Denise, I don’t think we need a modesty drape when Tom is being shown to his owner!”

“Oh gee Mr. Gregory!  I’m sorry.  I was just going by what you said yesterday about covering him when visitors tour the lab.”

With that she whisked away the small drape exposing Tom fully.   What was particularly striking was that there was a tight form-fitting sleeve surrounding Jenkins’ penis from which a plastic tube ran up to an instrument panel.  The sleeve was of clear plastic and only slightly larger in diameter than his penis, which could be clearly seen through the sleeve and was flaccid.

“I knew when I first interviewed you, Denise, that you would be right for this job.  You have the enthusiasm we need, good observational skills, and good judgment when it comes to administering punishments.”

“Gee thanks, Mr. Gregory!”   

“The device you see attached to Tom’s penis”, Paul addressed me, “is called a penile plethysmograph.  It measures the degree to which the subject’s penis is engorged with his blood.  In effect it measures the degree of his sexual arousal.  It is sensitive to the slightest change in degree of arousal that is then plotted on a graph our technician is calibrating now.  We use this device to understand what sexual fantasies are most arousing to Tom.”

“But how do you really know”, I responded, “what Tom is fantasizing about when his penis erects?”

“That’s simple actually”, Denise, the young technician, replied.  “We like - put all kinds of sexual images and thoughts and stuff into his brain with this awesome equipment. 

“Denise is referring to our subliminal image projector and also to the subliminal sounds pumped through his earphones”, Paul clarified.

“But can’t he just shut out the images and the sounds?” I queried.

“Actually No”, Paul responded.  “He cannot close his eyes to the images since his eyes are taped open.  He cannot shutout the subliminal messages and suggestions coming through his earphones.  He is never consciously aware of what images he is seeing because they only flash for a tiny fraction of a second.  Since he is not consciously aware of the images or the sounds he cannot make a conscious effort to deceive us.” 

“Would you like me to show Miss Glenn?” Denise eagerly asked.

“I think that would be most appropriate under the circumstances”, Paul responded.

We watched with interest as Denise pushed some buttons and turned some dials on her control console.  Her excitement was evident in her flushed face and the tension in her body.  In a matter of a few minutes we watched amazed as Tom’s penis grew from the 4 inches it had been in the flaccid state to a rock hard erection a good 9 inches long.  At the same time we saw Tom’s scrotum tighten up drawing his testicles closer to his body.

“I think you should show Miss Glenn”, Sherry interjected, “what kinds of sexual fantasies you were projecting onto Tom’s sub conscious mind that produced these interesting results.”
 
“Yes, I would like to see that”, I commented.

Denise turned on a video monitor that was not in line of sight for Tom to see.  She did not turn on the sound.   We all gathered around the monitor and watched an instant replay of what had aroused Tom.  The images were of a young attractive woman being violently attacked, stripped and raped in an alley by two teenage boys.

“When Denise shows Tom images of this sort”, Sherry continued, “and she observes his penis stiffen and his scrotum tighten during the projection, she can then conclude that he is sexually aroused by the idea of a woman being illegally raped and presumably identifies with the rapist.”  

“Yeah” Denise added.  “When that happens I record what I, you know, see in a notebook for Paul and Sherry to check later.  Mr. Gregory, do you think I could – you know – show them his, um, complete response?”  she said with a hopeful expression.

“Not right now Denise, because I don’t want you to ever let him orgasm when he has been watching rape video.  I have said you can give him relief with your hands once a week, if you feel like it, when he is not watching video.  Besides I want you to show Miss Glenn the other demo”, Paul directed.

I thought I saw a slight pout on Denise’s face.  But she then pushed some different buttons on the control console.  Within a few minutes we saw Tom’s penis wilt away until it was only 4 inches long and flaccid as before.  His ball sack also drooped back to original position.  

She then showed us an instant replay of what had been projected onto Tom’s subconscious mind to produce this result.  The images were of an attractive married couple having consensual sex in an atmosphere of love and respect.

“Obviously, sex in an atmosphere of love and respect is not stimulating for Tom”, Sherry commented.

“If Denise had seen Tom become erect or remain erect for these last images”, Paul rejoined, “she could then have concluded that he is sexually aroused in an entirely appropriate way and probably identifies with the loving husband.  In that case she would have recorded these detailed observations as well along with her conclusion that ‘subject shows normal sexual ideation’. “

“How reliable is this technique?” I asked.

“Very reliable when used on slaves!” Paul responded.  Free men are often able to fake their responses, but a slave who has a bio-implant device and has been trained to obedience by post hypnotic commands cannot fake his responses.  The machine detects all attempts at faking and ultimately sees all secrets of the slave.”

“There is one more thing to see”, Sherry commented.  “Paul, why don’t you have Denise stimulate Tom while he is watching the married couple having consensual sex?”

“Oh, can I Mr. Gregory?”  Denise piped in.

We saw her lubricate Tom’s penis and testicles with mineral oil, then restart the last video.  Soon she was actively masturbating him with one hand sliding up and down his penis and the other hand playing with his balls.  He was showing some arousal.  She kept it up until he was quite hard and still she kept going until he ejaculated.  His semen was all over his belly and matted in his pubic hairs. 

“This is another way we train Tom!  We force him to associate pleasure, as provided by Denise’s hand job, with normal sexual images being projected onto his subconscious!”

When the odor of Tom’s semen began to fill the room, Paul asked me to follow him back to his office.

As we walked along the hallway Paul made a comment.

“Stephanie, as you can see I hired a bright but immature high school girl just as you requested - to be the one controlling Tom.”

“Yes Paul.  For now I want him humiliated in every way possible, and putting that young girl in charge of him may be just the ticket!”

“Stephanie, I have someone waiting in my office who would like to meet you!”  He said this with a mischievous smile, so I thought it best to just let him surprise me.

When we entered Paul’s office there was a slender young man in a very dapper business suit there who rose to greet me in a most respectful way.  I was puzzled.  He looked sort of familiar but I couldn’t quite place where I had met him before.  Paul introduced him as Jason Miller, which did not help me in the least to remember who he was.  The young man saw my confusion.

“You probably don’t recognize me with my clothes on!” he said.  “The last time you saw me I was the naked waiter in the ‘Garden Club’ who served lunch to you and two of your co-workers.  I was a slave with a steel collar around my neck.  My genitals were on display for your amusement.  Your friends fondled me intimately but you declined to follow their example.”  

“Yes.  That is the way it happened.  I declined, not because I wouldn’t have enjoyed doing that to such a hunk as you!  I declined because it would have been coercive to do so to a slave and I wanted to respect your dignity.”  

“No other patron of that ‘Garden Club’ ever showed such respect for me as a person.  I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart!”

“I don’t know quite what to say”, I replied.  “I did what I thought was right at the time.  That is all.”

“At that time”, Jason continued, “I was pretty down on myself.  I felt I was a nobody who could be toyed with by each and every customer.  But because of your gracious action”, he continued, “I got a momentary glimpse of the wonderful world of decent people out there that I might be part of if I kept my spirits up and worked hard to better my situation.“

“I think you should know”, Paul jumped in, “that I am familiar with Jason’s situation because he often came to me for counseling back when he was a slave here at Masterson Automotive.”  

“I was a student”, Jason continued his story, and “studying restaurant management when I lost the part time job that was paying my school expenses and was indentured for debt by the bank that had loaned me my tuition money.  That is when you found me working as a naked waiter.”  

“His indenture”, Paul interjected, “was only for two years, and when he completed it and was set free, he found a job as a free waiter in a restaurant, then got promoted to assistant manager and worked 60-70 hours a week while living frugally, just so he could save enough money to become a citizen.  He passed his citizenship tests, made his national defense commitment, and paid his first year’s citizenship tax.  The restaurant then promoted him to manager.” 

“Now I am still working long hours with a goal of eventually starting my own restaurant!”

I extended my arms and hugged him warmly, tears running down my face.  He reciprocated and after a few moments he excused himself and left us. 

“Now that we are alone, please have a seat Stephanie”, Paul stated.  “I want to discuss with you a possible career you might consider.”

“Go on”, I replied.

“I feel that I know you pretty well”, he continued.  “I have seen a kindness in your disposition – for example in the light sentences you handed out to those two boys who molested you, and the way you even provided for their rehabilitation.  That whole incident with Jason in the ‘Garden Club’ also makes my point. You were the object of some derision by your coworkers for that!  I see both a certain kindness and certain toughness in your decision to allow Tom Jenkins to return to work here and enter sex therapy.”

“How so?” I replied.

“Although you have designed a humiliating regime for him you actually seem more concerned that he get an opportunity to straighten out his life than you are concerned with seeking revenge as an end in itself.”

“What are you getting at Mr. Gregory?”  I responded.

“It is just that there is a profession that I think might fit your temperament even more than being an accountant.  I am talking about a career in slave advocacy.”  

“That’s one profession I have thought about but never thought I could qualify for”, I said.

“After Cheryl Clifford’s conviction for neglect of duty as an advocate, the Court concluded that her agency failed to properly supervise her and monitor her work.  The Court has assigned a new agency to work with our company to monitor the working conditions of slaves and indentured persons.”   

“How does this affect me?”  I wanted to know.

“I had a conversation”, Paul responded, “with the head of this agency a few days ago and saw an opportunity to discuss with him the possibility that they might be able to use someone like you.”

“But my training is in accounting, not social work!” I protested.

“They need many kinds of people over there.  Generally they like to hire persons who have actually experienced slavery or indentured servitude at some point in their lives.  Above all they need people whose heart is in the work.”  

“But having the heart for the work is surely not enough is it?”  I questioned.

“Don’t sell yourself short Stephanie”, he responded, “They need people with your temperament, your sense of justice and the empathy derived from having been where the agency’s clients are now.”  

“How is the pay for this kind of work?”  I wanted to know.

“Not great.  But if you do well as an advocate you may be considered for promotion to a management position.  Then your accounting training could be a real plus on top of your field experience.  Are you willing to consider it?”

“Well, this is a rather unexpected development.  I suppose I could think about it.  I actually have an offer for an accounting job but I still have several days before I have to give them an answer.”

“Then take this information”, he said handing me a slip of paper.  “Bud Williamson is the man I would want you to see.  He is the founder of Williamson Advocates.  If you call him and mention our conversation, I am sure he will see you.”

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