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.


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.

