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A Routine Enslavement
by Falcon (dondaverse at yahoo dot com)

***

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. (MMF, nc, rp, voy, bd, fantasy)

*** 

Author Note: 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.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Prologue
Ch 01 – Stephanie's Interview
Ch 02 – The Slaver as a Young Man
Ch 03 – The Slaver's Career
Ch 04 – Stephanie's New Job
Ch 05 – Petition for Enslavement
Ch 06 – The Trial
Ch 07 – These Legs Are Made for Running
Ch 08 -- The Slaver Helps a Dancer
Ch 09 – The Verdict

***

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. 

A word is in order here about how the slaving business 
developed in Capitallia since the formation of our new 
nation. There were essentially two separate aspects of 
the trade. What might be called the ‘procurement side’ 
encompassed firms like my own. What was often called 
the ‘merchandising side’ included firms that were 
primarily engaged in financing the acquisition of 
slaves, slave obedience training, slave physical 
conditioning and maintenance, and of course marketing 
of the slaves. Firms of this sort were generally my 
clients. Their business was capital intensive since 
they had to lay out vast sums of money to purchase all 
the debts of each of the many debtors they wished to 
acquire, plus the added costs of the legal proceedings, 
and the costs of training and marketing the ‘products’. 
Firms of this sort tended to be centralized in 
particular cities where they maintained their 
financial, training, warehousing and marketing 
operations.

Firms on the ‘procurement side’, like my own, tended to 
be geographically dispersed. What we always had to sell 
were our professional services and we tended to be 
labor intensive rather than capital intensive as were 
our clients. Merchandising slavers discovered early on 
that setting up their own company offices in far flung 
locations with their own salaried employees created a 
situation where it was difficult to control such 
employees and motivate them to achieve the procurement 
results desired. They found it more expedient to hire 
professional firms such as my own to do the field work 
and pay through commissions for actual results. 

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, or so I 
thought at that time. 

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. As I walked out of this building 
with my lawyer I felt two feet tall in my shame. I also 
felt very angry at how I had been treated like an 
object for this man’s amusement.


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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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 60