Message-ID: <58452asstr$1231132203@assm.asstr.org>
From: Don Daverse <dondaverse@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} A 'Routine' Enslavement Ch. 12 (slavery, rape, non consensual, voyeurism, bondage, mind control, M+/F)
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Date: Mon, 05 Jan 2009 00:10:03 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Attached please find Chapter 12 to my posted story "A 'Routine'
Enslavement. Formatting is plain text with 75 characters per line.

   SYNOPSIS

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

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


   

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<1st attachment, "Routine_Chapter 12.txt" begin>

Chapter 12.   Enslaved Professionals


One day, at the "facility", my trainer said the words I had been waiting to 
hear.  These were words I feared, but also words that meant the end of 
the endless repetition of exercises designed to prepare me for my future. 

"Stephanie, your new life is about to begin."

I remembered clearly that I had once been proud, that I had once 
possessed freedom and dignity.  I had been able to choose what college 
to attend, what profession to prepare for, what employment offer to 
accept, what men I would date, with whom I would have sex.  All these 
things were a distant memory now.  Since the jury verdict at my trial I had 
been stripped of all that even as I was stripped of my clothing.  They told 
me it would "only" be for ten years!  Then I would be restored to my 
freedom.  So they said.

I had been trained at the Richmond Slendabond facility to obey orders 
from anyone placed in a position of authority over me.  While I still had a 
will to disobey any ability to disobey had been systematically trained out 
of me.  Escape was impossible due to some device they had implanted in 
my neck.  I had no standing to appeal to any court concerning my status 
as a slave.  Disobedience was pointless since, if I were slow to obey, they 
would just take over my body in some mysterious way and cause my 
body to do what they had commanded independent of my will.  If they 
wanted me to suck a penis I would suck a penis whether I did it of my 
own volition or my body just did it against my will.  It wasn't for me to 
know how they did these things to me.

When they spoke of my "new life", all I knew for sure was that it would 
somehow involve me working at my profession as an accountant.   I could 
not even imagine what it would be like to apply my professional 
knowledge and skills under conditions of slavery.  Would I be able to 
speak freely my professional opinion about how best to carry out the 
tasks assigned to me?  Probably not.   Could I refuse an assignment if I 
found it morally repulsive?  Almost certainly not.  Would I be forced to 
have sex with my business superiors and their clients?  Does the sun rise 
in the morning?

The day for me to leave the 'facility' finally came.  I was brought down to 
the loading dock where I waited, my hands securely cuffed behind my 
back.  They could have controlled me quite easily without the cuffs, so I 
supposed that was done mostly to impress upon my mind that I was no 
longer a free girl.  They had dressed me in low-rise blue jeans that fitted 
me like a glove, leaving little of my lower form to the imagination.  Much of 
my midriff was bared by the low cut of these jeans together with an 
abbreviated and tight fitting t-shirt they put on me.  The contours of my 
firm breasts were visible through this t-shirt as were my nipples.  When I 
used to dress like this in college guys would often tent their slacks. 

Shortly two more young people were escorted to the loading dock, 
similarly cuffed.   I soon realized that these two were people I had known 
during my physical training in the gym.  There was Jennifer Marston, the 
blonde ballerina from the National Ballet of Capitallia.  She was nearly as 
slender as I and had been similarly dressed in low-rise jeans and midriff 
baring t-shirt.   The jeans revealed her highly muscled legs while the t-
shirt revealed how thin and fragile her upper body was.  Her breasts and 
nipples could also be quite clearly seen through the translucent t-shirt.  
The other one to join us was Harold, the lawyer, clad in tight fitting jeans 
and a tight t-shirt that showed his biceps, shoulders and bared six-pack 
abdomen.  An impressive bulge could also be seen in his jeans at the 
juncture of his muscular thighs.

Soon an extended body SUV pulled up and two smartly uniformed female 
security guards got out and approached us.  They wore badges, stun 
guns in holsters and their uniforms proclaimed them to be working for 
Richmond SlendaBond.  They announced that we would all be going to 
our new owners. We all nervously eyed the controller devices on the 
wrists of each of these guards.  We knew only to well that either guard 
could render any of us unconscious at the touch of a button.  They 
opened a back door of the SUV and we were escorted in to a carpeted 
and upholstered space where there were two long padded benches, one 
on each sidewall.  As each of us took a position on one of the benches a 
guard shackled our feet and one wrist to convenient eyebolts attached to 
the wall and floor of the truck, then belted each of us in with seat and 
shoulder belts.   

There were no side windows so we would not be able to see where we 
were going, though there was a long ceiling window that admitted plenty 
of light.  This space was evidently designed for carrying human cargo and 
was completely walled off from the cab up front where the guards would 
ride.  I noticed a video camera that would enable the guards to keep an 
eye on us.   We were all dying to ask one of the guards where we were 
being taken but no one did.   We had all been voice trained.  One of the 
female guards announced that we had permission to speak freely during 
the trip but only to our fellow slaves.  The rear doors were closed and 
locked and the SUV began to move.

The trip took about two hours.  I suspected we had been heading toward 
New York City, and this was confirmed when I heard one of the guards 
announce our first stop.

"This is your stop, Jennifer.   We are at the stage entrance to the 
Montmarcy Theatre, home of the National Ballet of Capitallia.  You will be 
one of a growing number of professional dancers who will work at your 
craft while enslaved.  Enjoy."

"This is wrong", Jennifer muttered under her breath, "they can't make me 
dance for them if I am not free!"

Jennifer was unshackled from the bench and escorted out of the SUV 
where a uniformed male guard from the ballet company came out to meet 
our guards.  I heard some conversation about Jennifer and then the ballet 
company guard was talking with someone on his cell phone.  He then 
announced that Jennifer was not expected here until evening rehearsal.  
Our guards indicated that Jennifer would be escorted on to her day job 
and returned to the theatre in time for the evening activities.   So that was 
how it was going to work, I thought.  None of us would have any say 
about who used us or when or how.

The SUV began moving again and after about 15 minutes we sensed the 
vehicle going down a ramp into an underground parking garage under 
some office building.  When we came to a stop we were all unloaded.  
Another SUV had pulled in to the parking spot next to ours.   On the side 
of this one was written "Maxim's Slaves" and "We Specialize in Full 
Figured Types".   A man of perhaps 40 years with a rather portly pear 
shaped physique and a slave collar around his neck was being led out of 
this vehicle.   If he was Maxim's typical product I thought, rather 
irreverently, then they might as well rename their business "Porkers-R-
Us".  Evidently his future owner would be valuing him more for his mind 
than for his body.  They had given him baggy jeans and a baggy shirt to 
wear.  This was the man we would later know as Edgar, the economist 
and statistician.  After he disembarked there was also a woman getting 
out of that SUV who could accurately be described as "full figured" but 
certainly not obese.  Our respective guards then herded all of us from 
both vehicles into an elevator.
 
When the elevator stopped I was amazed at the sight before us.  It was a 
very large gymnasium that was currently being used as some kind of 
processing center for physical exams.  There were lines of naked people 
everywhere queuing up to stations where doctors and nurses were 
examining them.  A pair of orderlies in white coats met us.  Our 
SlendaBond guards announced that the clothing we were wearing 
belonged to SlendaBond and must be returned.  Maxim's guards said the 
same to the portly man and the full figured woman.  We were all 
instructed to undress.  I did not feel comfortable doing this in such a large 
space where so many people could observe us, but I knew better than to 
disobey or even to hesitate.  In no time we were all naked.  Then the 
orderlies cuffed our hands behind our backs so that we could not even 
protect our modesty.   I thought this gymnasium looked vaguely familiar.

We were guided into the first of several lines.  I noticed from their collars 
that some of the people in the line were slaves like us.  There were other 
naked people in line, however, who did not have slave collars but had, 
instead, those non-citizen wristbands.  When we reached the table a 
nurse checked our blood pressures, listened to our hearts, drew blood 
samples, and had us produce a urine specimen.  There was no privacy 
here.  We had to produce a specimen in full few of several hundred 
people.  If you couldn't produce one, they had an electric probe that 
would make you urinate.

As I was leaving the first table and getting into the second line I looked 
up.  There was a kind of balcony or mezzanine overlooking the gym and 
there were fully dressed people up there looking down at all of us in our 
nakedness.  Suddenly I knew where I was.  I looked more closely at the 
people up there and I spotted my former co-workers June and Lacy.  
They were looking directly at me and smirking.  They had just seen me 
forced to urinate into a cup.  I had once stood up there on that balcony 
looking at the naked non-citizens on my first day on a new job.  This was 
the facility of my former employer, Masterson Automotive!

There were several more lines to go through and more indignities.  At last 
Harold, Jennifer and I and the "fat guy", as I then thought of him, had 
completed the processing and were waiting in one corner of the gym for 
further developments.  We did not have long to wait.  A guard wearing a 
company uniform came over to us.  Steel collars were placed about our 
necks and locked shut with some sort of special tool.   The collars bore 
the inscription "Property of Masterson Automotive" and each had multiple 
attachment rings to which a leash might be attached.  June and Lacy 
came down to collect us.  I noticed the two of them were really looking 
over Harold's naked body, his six-pack abdomen, his most impressive low 
hanging balls and his thick uncircumcised penis.  I had seen Harold 
naked before at the training facility but he was a novelty to my former 
coworkers.  Our fat fellow traveler stood by self-consciously with his pear 
shaped obesity, his love handles his rather small penis and a tight 
scrotum that had not fully descended.  I felt sorry for the guy.

Lacy and June attached leashes to each of our collars and took the four 
of us, still naked, up the elevator to the floor where I had worked when I 
was still employed by Masterson Automotive.  I was most unwilling to step 
off the elevator but I had no choice.  I thought I would die to be seen 
naked and collared by all my former coworkers and by my former bosses.   
All four of us would have covered our genitals if we could, but of course 
we all still had our hands cuffed behind us.  I felt a warm flush on my face 
and breasts and that my nipples were getting stiff.  I told myself that it was 
because I was cold but the truth was I was feeling some degree of sexual 
arousal being paraded naked before everyone I had known at this 
company before I was fired.

My two former coworkers escorted us all down a well-remembered long 
corridor, plushly carpeted and with tasteful artwork, to an office that was 
all too familiar.  There was that same spectacular view of the New York 
City skyline that I remembered from the day I had first come here for a job 
interview.  There was Jeff Duncan, Human Resources Director, seated 
behind his elegant desk, speaking for a moment to someone on the 
phone.  We all stood and waited.  He acted as though it were the most 
natural thing in the world that there should be four naked and collared 
slaves standing in his office and waiting on his pleasure.  After what 
seemed an eternity he finished his call, motioned to Lacy and June that 
they should disconnect our leashes and leave.   He did not invite us to sit 
and he made no move to unlock our handcuffs.  Evidently he wanted to 
make a point that none of us were free.

"Well, my most exquisite 'human resources' have arrived at last!" he said 
expansively.  As a "Human Resources Director" I have long aspired to 
have the kind of human resources which you four represent!"

"Stephanie, Jennifer and Harold, meet Edgar who comes to us from an 
academic background in economics.  You are probably wondering why 
you are here and what sort of work we have in mind for you?" he 
continued.  "You all have permission to speak freely."

"Yes sir, we all did wonder that" Harold replied.

"Well you slaves should all know that Stephanie was with us as a well 
paid employee up until two years ago.  Now she will be here again under 
rather different terms.  It seems she got a bit uppity with Tom Jenkins, 
one of our department managers.  Nearly all our female employees are 
smart enough to know that if a department manager wants to fondle their 
legs, they are obliged to submit to this.  But not our Stephanie.  Oh no!  
She was too full of herself for that."  

"She even went so far", Duncan continued, "as to file a sexual 
harassment claim against Tom.  Naturally I filed that in my circular file.  
We don't keep our female employees in line by investigating sex 
harassment cases.  The general feeling of management here is that 
harassing the female employees is a perk that goes with any 
management job."

I felt the anger rising in me.  My heart started beating faster and the 
muscles of my arms, shoulders, neck and upper back all began to tense.  
Duncan seemed to notice this and said something to me that didn't make 
any sense - something about "green moon", then "forget fourteen".  For 
some strange reason I began to relax after he said that, and a short time 
later I couldn't even remember what I had been angry about.  But I 
glanced at Jennifer and the two men and saw they were all still tense.  
That puzzled me.

"But lets get Tom in on this discussion" Duncan continued.  "After all the 
four of you will be working for him now.  And I assure you that, since you 
are all slaves now, Tom will be able to fondle much more than just legs.  
He is bi-sexual and may find interest in all parts of all your bodies!"

In my newly relaxed state it did not seem odd that a manager would have 
such access to my body or the bodies of the others who reported to him. 

Duncan made a call.  Tom Jenkins soon entered the room and took a 
seat.  He openly stared at my naked body, at my firm breasts, my erect 
nipples and most particularly at my crotch which, still being handcuffed, I 
was powerless to cover.  I was embarrassed of course, yet it did not 
seem wrong that the man who would be my superior would take such 
interest in my body.  It was his prerogative after all.  Duncan had said so.  
Yet this man Jenkins seemed vaguely familiar to me.  I felt that I had 
known him in a past life that was now beyond recall. 

"We have a project in mind", Duncan continued, "on which the four of you 
can collaborate.  The New York State legislature has recently passed a 
new Apprenticeship Law. There was a widespread belief in our society 
that too much idleness has a corrosive effect on our youth.  Teenagers 
have way too much time on their hands and this often leads to juvenile 
delinquency and the use of dangerous recreational drugs.  It also often 
leads to young people entering the labor market with poor work habits or 
no work habits at all." 

I found myself in general agreement with these points.  I had long thought 
much the same myself.

"By contrast" Duncan continued, "in the early history of the United States 
most teenagers were either doing chores on the family farm, helping their 
families run small businesses, or were learning a trade after being bound 
as an apprentice to a master in that trade.  It was not uncommon for a 
young boy to be indentured by his parents to a master printer, 
bookbinder, candle maker, blacksmith or any of dozens of other trades.  
The boy would be under contract to the master for a term of years at a 
very low wage, or perhaps for board and room only.  In return the master 
would teach the boy a trade so that when the apprenticeship was up the 
boy, now a man, would be qualified as a journeyman in that trade and 
would have a marketable skill which he could freely offer to any employer.  
It was a good system.  Many a boy got an education his parents could not 
have afforded to buy for him and learned to earn his livelihood in this way 
and eventually became a master in his own right."

Harold, our attorney colleague, raised his hand and was recognized to 
speak.

"Are you saying that the project we will be working on has something to 
do with this new law?"

"Yes, Harold" Duncan replied.  "You see Masterson Automotive wants to 
be a pioneer in taking full advantage of the new Apprenticeship Law.  The 
new law allows boys and girls to be apprenticed under indenture from the 
age of 12 up through the age of 19.  Contracts are initially written to go 
from age 12 to age 16, with an option for the 

apprentice, having reached the age of majority, to extend the 
apprenticeship to age 19 if both parties agree."

"Would the child be free to quit the apprenticeship at any time?"  Harold 
asked.

"Not at all" Duncan replied. "You see the employer makes quite an 
investment in providing a child with a useful education and is entitled to 
something in return.  He is entitled to have full control of that child during 
the agreed contract term, so as to be able to fully exploit the labor of his 
pupil to his own advantage."

"So there could be all kinds of abuses, just as there were with the 
historical system of apprenticeship!"  Harold exclaimed.

"Well not quite."  Duncan responded.  "Our new law is called "The Kinder 
and Gentler Apprenticeship Law".  It implicitly recognizes that 
apprenticeship does create a kind of slavery for the young pupils, and so 
they need all the same kinds of protections that we afford to adult slaves 
under the Kinder and Gentler Slavery Law.  For example no corporal 
punishment may be used, the hours of work are limited to 20 hours a 
week so that the child may attend regular school classes, the best 
medical and dental care must be provided, good nutrition, opportunity for 
the child to exercise, and a small trust fund setup that will be under the 
child's control when he or she becomes an adult."

"What about sex?" Jennifer asked. "Are the children ever used sexually 
by their masters or mistresses during the apprenticeships?"

"The new law absolutely bars any sexual contact between master and 
apprentice while the apprentice is below the age of consent.  In New York 
the age of consent is 16.  So the question of sex would only arise if the 
apprentice freely agreed to extend the apprenticeship for an additional 2 
or 3 years after reaching age 16.  Such extension would give the master 
free reign, sexually speaking."

"But if a child doesn't agree to extend his or her apprenticeship after 
reaching age 16, then would that child would have to enter the labor 
market at that point?" Jennifer persisted.

"True" Duncan replied, "but a 16 year old boy or girl entering the labor 
market with at least a basic apprenticeship training accomplished would 
command a much better wage than if he or she had to enter the labor 
market at age 12 with no such training."

"Nevertheless" Jennifer continued, "there would be quite a bit of pressure 
on the 16 year olds to sign off on the sexual consent business to get the 
benefit of the extended apprenticeship training!"

"I won't work on a project where 16 and 17 year old boys and girls can be 
forced to have sex with their teachers!"  Harold declared.

"I feel the same way.  I won't do it either!"  Edgar said.

"No fucking way anybody is going to make me do work like that!" Jennifer 
expostulated.  

"Your freedom of speech can be taken away, Jennifer, if you abuse it!  Do 
not forget who and what you now are, Jennifer, Stephanie, Harold and 
Edgar.  As slaves you don't have any choice about what projects you 
work on any more than you have a choice of your sexual partners!"  
Duncan exclaimed as he pounded his fist on the desk.

I could see the muscles in the backs and shoulders of the other three 
tightening up and their faces turning red with anger.  I remained strangely 
relaxed about the whole thing.  But of course Duncan was right.  None of 
us had any choice about anything anymore.  We could be commanded to 
do anything and we must obey!  

"Keep in mind", Duncan continued in a more conciliatory voice, "that in 
Capitallia there is no system of publicly funded education beyond sixth 
grade.  Even the K-6 program will eventually be eliminated as other ways 
are found for private financing of education.  Children of poor families 
have, until the recent legislation, often found it necessary to enter menial 
jobs immediately after completing sixth grade.  Now there is a way for 
such children to continue their educations and prepare for much higher 
paying occupations - all without being a drain on the taxpayers."

"When you put it that way it sounds like we will be helping these children" 
Harold remarked.

It sounded like child prostitution to me, but obviously my opinion would 
not matter in the least.  Duncan would only respond that 16-year-old 
youths were hardly children anymore and that, in any case, they were not 
being asked to turn tricks.

"Another point to consider is that all apprenticeships are entered into 
initially as a contract between a child's parents or guardian and an 
individual teacher and practitioner of the skill the parents want that child 
to learn.  Children are never apprenticed to impersonal corporations or 
passed around from person to person.  The individual practitioner may 
well be working as a highly paid professional employee of a corporation 
when the apprenticeship begins, but if that individual moves to a different 
corporation, or goes into private practice, his or her apprentice moves 
with him.  A special, and very personal relationship exists between 
teacher and student that is often consummated sexually when the student 
has reached an age of suitable discretion and consents to do so.  Not 
every apprenticeship will work this way, but many do."

"Where do our respective professional skills fit in to such a project?"  
Jennifer asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Let me address that one, Jeff" Tom Jenkins interjected.  "What we need 
is a study of the legal, psychological, economic and financial cost control 
implications of filling literally several hundred key skilled positions with 
apprentice labor.  Harold, you will contribute your legal expertise to make 
sure that the plans we formulate are in full compliance with the new 
kinder and gentler apprentice laws.  Jennifer, you earned a degree in 
psychology as well as in dance, so your day job will be to help us to work 
out the psychological ramifications of how we can best assist our 
professional masters and mistresses to motivate and control their 
apprentices.  Evenings and weekends we will loan you out to your old 
dance company.  Stephanie, you will contribute your cost accounting 
expertise to help us figure out how much money could be saved by using 
apprentices.  And Edgar, we are going to want you to use your training as 
an economist to take a look at how such a program will impact the price 
of labor generally.   We will want to be sure that we are not bidding 
against ourselves for apprentice labor or that we are not excessively 
depleting the pool of unskilled child labor.  We will also want you to look 
over Stephanie's shoulders to make sure all the economic assumptions 
she will be making in her cost accounting are valid.  Any comments 
slaves?"

We all sat in stunned silence.  They were actually going to force us to 
work on a project about which we had serious moral qualms.  I was also 
becoming ever more conscious of my nakedness and wanting some 
clothing to cover my body.  Duncan anticipated me on this.

"I know you four probably would like some clothing" he continued, "but, 
with a couple of minor exceptions, that is not part of our plan for you.  
Instead you will spend nearly all your time with us essentially naked.  The 
only exception will be that for you women high heels and certain required 
jewelry will be worn during all working hours.  For you men black bow ties 
will be attached to your slave collars and you will also wear mid calf 
leather boots during all working hours.  The footwear will both call 
attention to your nudity and improve the lines of your legs.  We feel that 
your constant nudity, while interacting with colleagues, superiors and 
visitors who are fully clothed, will go a long way to maintain an awareness 
in your minds that you are not free and are not equal to the others.  We 
will issue you clothing only when needed for protection from job hazards 
or from inclement weather.  That will be entirely at Tom's discretion, and 
any clothing issued to you will be of a type or design he approves and be 
available to you only as long as actually needed for such protection."

As I stood there, naked and handcuffed, listening to Duncan I began to 
feel quite chilly and my muscles began to shiver from head to toe.  

"You will live in barracks style accommodations on another floor of this 
building.  You will be under constant surveillance.  You will be forced to 
exercise daily to keep those bodies toned.  We will use sexual frustration 
and sexual pleasure as the primary means to motivate the four of you to 
do what we want you to do.  In general you will be denied sex, even 
masturbation in order to maintain you always in a state of sexual tension.  
When we wish to reward you for a job well done we will permit you to 
masturbate or even arrange for you to have a full sexual experience with 
a partner of our choosing!"

Again I could see the muscular tensions in the bodies of my three 
colleagues.  Naked people find it very difficult not to show their emotions 
through their muscular responses!   Nakedness denies a person not only 
physical privacy but psychological privacy as well!   I had accepted, since 
some point earlier in our meeting, the idea that my life, my body and my 
sexuality were at the disposal of my corporate masters, so again I 
remained strangely relaxed at this particular time.

"The good news for you slaves" Duncan continued, "is that you will be 
permitted at least 4 hours of leisure every day and all your medical needs 
will be covered.  Your primary care will be from our own company doctor.  
Should you ever need the services of specialists or hospitals, a medical 
insurance program the company maintains for all its slaves will cover 
these.  Coverage is more comprehensive, in fact, than what the company 
provides for its free employees.

Duncan at last noticed that I was shivering from exposure.  


"It is not our intention to make you suffer physically from exposure to cold 
or drafty air.  We have a solution for that.  Tom, why don't you take 
charge of these four, get them settled in and begin briefing them in more 
detail on the project?"

Tom Jenkins then led the four of us out of Mr. Duncan's office and down 
the hall into the large high ceiling open office area where I had worked 
here when I was a free employee.  Coworkers I had known from then 
stared at my companions and me.  Some smirked.  Someone called out 
to me "How do you like your new life, Steph!"  This was all just too 
humiliating for words.

Then I saw something that had not been in this area before.  It was an 
oval shaped conference room formed entirely of clear glass panels, about 
15 feet by 25 feet, elevated on a platform about two feet higher than the 
surrounding open office area.  Inside this glass room was a glass 
conference table and 8 chairs, and all along the back wall of the oval 
room was a series of 7 glass cubicles.  There were major traffic aisles 
passing both in front of the oval room and behind the row of glass 
cubicles.  Any of the 40 to 50 employees of the accounting department 
plus visitors to the department would be passing regularly back and forth 
along these traffic aisles many times a day.

"Here are your new office accommodations" Jenkins said, clearly 
sweeping his hand toward the raised platform.  We call this the 'fishbowl'.  
It is all glass so that many others will have opportunities to view you as 
you work naked here everyday.  It is all temperature and humidity 
controlled to make nudity practical.  The glass enclosures will protect you 
from drafts and there are adjustable infrared heaters in each cubicle you 
may adjust to your comfort level.  He proceeded to unlock all our 
handcuffs after extracting a promise that we would not use our hands to 
cover ourselves.

"Stephanie, you take cubicle number one.   Jennifer, you are in number 
two.  Harold, you take number three, and Edgar, number four.  Now up 
you go!"

We each found that we had to climb three steps to get up to our new 
"offices".  I soon became aware that lighting had been arranged so that I 
would always be highly visible in my cubicle to all in the room and to any 
passersby.  Also I became aware that the only furniture was a specially 
designed seat consisting of a backrest and two padded thigh supporters, 
but no center part to protect my modesty.  The first thing my eyes took in 
was a computer monitor suspended from the ceiling, so oriented so that 
when I sat facing this monitor I would be facing one of the major traffic 
aisles.  Also suspended, next to the monitor, was an "air mouse". 
Underneath the monitor were two stirrups for my feet with leather locking 
bands.  There was also a web cam and headset.  No printer, no filing 
cabinet, and only one small drawer for personal things located near the 
ceiling so as not to obstruct sight lines.   There were three video cameras 
in the cubicle to monitor me from different directions.  The chill I had felt in 
Duncan's office soon melted away as I felt warmth from an infrared heater 
which I could control.  Jenkins had disappeared into his office.

Someone from Human Resources came in and fitted us women with our 
high heels and jewelry, and fitted the men with their leather boots and 
bow ties.

Suddenly there was a message on my computer screen:

"All of you sit down, place your feet in the stirrups provided, and put on 
your headsets!"
As soon as I had obeyed this directive I felt the leather locking bands 
electrically lock my feet into the stirrups.  It would now be impossible to 
get up from this seated position until or unless someone sent a signal to 
electrically unlock the stirrups.  More messages appeared on my screen 
accompanied by their verbal equivalents in my headset.

"You will notice that your feet are now locked in place", Jenkins voice 
continued through our headsets, "and that, for you females, the stirrups 
also raise your knees to approximately nipple level.  Should you have a 
need to arise from your seated positions to go to the bathroom or for any 
reason you must seek permission from myself or from one of my two 
assistants.   The stirrups are designed to keep your feet well separated.  
There are also sensors that will detect any attempt to bring your knees 
together and deliver a verbal reprimand should you attempt to do so.  You 
may not use your hands to conceal any part of your bodies at any time.  
This is now a paperless office.   Everything you will need to do your jobs 
should be available to you through your computer terminals."  

"Your bathroom", he continued, "is the seventh glass cubicle at the end of 
your row."

We all groaned inwardly.  The company meant us to perform even our 
toilet activities on display to the world.  No doubt there would be video 
cameras and microphones there too, that no one in the entire building 
should miss out on the sight and sounds of our humiliation.

"At this time slaves", he continued, "you will all watch a twenty minute 
training video on your monitors to acquaint you with the programs and 
services available through your personal computers."

After the training video we were ordered to convene in the glass 
conference room to receive our first briefing on our first assignment.  We 
all used electronic notepads to take notes on the briefing that were saved 
back to our personal computers.  I felt this was all coming on too fast.  I 
was overwhelmed with all that had happened to us this day.  
Nevertheless I opened the "Notepad" program so that I was ready to take 
notes.

First Jenkins introduced one of his two assistants, Sally Rogers, who 
would sit in on the meeting.  I noticed that she carried a riding crop 
attached to her belt.  No doubt a symbol of her authority.  She sat down 
next to Edgar, our portly economist.

"Sometimes" Jenkins began, "you slaves may feel the sting of Sally's 
riding crop on your bare legs or buttocks when she wishes to quicken you 
in the performance of some task.  This is not intended to physically hurt 
you but to remind you of your station here and of the need for prompt 
obedience."

"Masterson Automotive has long been tempted" Jenkins began, "by the 
idea that we could use enslaved professionals like yourselves to perform 
key professional and managerial roles within our firm.  The advantages 
would be lower cost per hour and the fact our investment in training 
slaves could never be lost due to worker attrition.   Slaves would not be 
able to leave their work with us and go to work for our competitors, taking 
our trade secrets with them.  We have to feed slaves and provide for their 
medical care, but the costs of housing slaves in barracks style facilities is 
much less than the costs incurred by free employees for maintaining their 
own homes, commuting and the like."

Sally Rogers at this point casually used her riding crop to poke at Edgar's 
love handles and to lift his small penis up.

"Does this little thing actually work?"  she demanded.

"Yes ma'am, it did the last time I tried it."  

"And how did you 'try' it?  Did you fuck a woman?"

"No ma'am.  I don't get many opportunities to do that, being as fat as I am 
and as shy as I am.  If you must know I masturbated, ma'am."

"Perhaps I will require you to demonstrate that later on" she replied.  

Edgar's face was turning red and he looked away to avoid eye contact 
with Sally or any of the rest of us.

"We are not going to let you use it or play with it for quite some time now" 
Sally continued.  "When you have impressed us with some spectacular 
results on your project we will then let your "little economist" come out 
and play.  We will then reward you by providing you the use of various 
female bodies for your pleasure, including, quite possibly, the va-jay-jays 
of your two female colleagues here in this meeting!" she said, looking 
meaningfully first at Jennifer and then at me.

I caught a fleeting expression from Jennifer that said 'when hell freezes 
over'.  My own feelings were somewhat more complex.  I felt so sorry for 
poor Edgar, to see him mocked so.  I instinctively liked Edgar as a 
person, though I was not physically attracted to him and probably would 
never have given him my phone number if we had met when I was a free 
woman.  Nevertheless I was beginning to feel some solidarity with him in 
our common predicament and it would give me great pleasure to give him 
pleasure.  If ordered to fuck him I would do it with good grace.

"Your team assignment slaves", Jenkins continued, "will be to explore a 
variety of different skilled jobs within our organization and determine the 
extent to which indentured apprentices would be practical in these jobs.  
For starters I am going to take you all on a tour of one area of our factory 
where printed circuit control boards are assembled.  Workers in this area 
must be very detail oriented and possess high finger dexterity.  We find 
that adult female workers and teenage girls generally work out best.  
There is an extended training process for these jobs and we have often 
lost our training investment because of fairly high employee turnover.  If 
we could replace "at will" employees with indentured youths we might cut 
out much of that turnover expense."

"If you will all follow me we will begin our tour."   So saying he led us to an 
elevator and took us to one of the manufacturing floors.  

When we stepped out on the 4th floor we were told we would be entering 
a clean room environment and we had to all take showers and step 
through a large blow dry machine.  Jenkins and Ms. Rogers each donned 
a special clean room suit.  The four of us had to leave our footwear 
outside.  Then we all walked out on a very busy assembly area.  There 
was row after row of benches where naked workers were assembling 
circuit boards.  No one seemed uncomfortable, as the room was draft free 
and temperature and humidity controlled.  Also there was an infrared light 
aimed at each worker to simulate the warmth of sunlight.  Each row 
consisted of twenty teen-age girls and a male or female supervisor.  Each 
supervisor wore a slave collar but the girls, who were between the ages 
of 12 and 16, were obviously not slaves as each wore the non-citizen 
wristband.  I marveled at how uniformly thin their bodies were and how 
their nimble fingers seemed so well adapted to the assembly of tiny 
components onto the boards.  I noted the immaturity of their young 
bodies, breasts that varied from small to none and rather well defined 
ribcages.

"Why are they all naked?"  I asked.

"It is mainly because this is a clean room.  All workers have to shower 
and blow dry just as you did before entering this room.  Management felt 
that not permitting clothing would eliminate the risk of lint and dirt particles 
contaminating the finished boards.  Also it made it simple for the girls to 
take an exercise break in the swimming pool mid morning and mid 
afternoon and return to work without the hassle of wet clothing, lockers, 
etc.  Then too it was felt that all this nudity would be aesthetically pleasing 
when we bring customers and other visitors through.  I can assure you 
these girls are not being subjected to anything of a sexual nature, except 
possibly for some of the sixteen year olds who consent to sexual service 
for extra pay.  These girls are all free employees with permission from 
their parents to work a 15-hour week so as to not conflict with their 
schoolwork."

Jenkins then approached a thirty-year-old slender woman with a slave 
collar who was obviously the supervisor of the first 20 girls.  He caressed 
one of her impressive breasts and toyed with the nipple briefly, then 
engaged her in conversation about how production was going.  She 
dutifully reported how many boards had been turned out in the last 4 
hours and how many rejects there had been.  He introduced her as 
Rebecca to the 4 of us and explained to her that we were slaves like 
herself and would be doing a study and might need to ask her many 
questions.

"Rebecca, what did you do for a living when you were free?" I asked her.

"I worked as a production line manager for a competitor of Masterson 
Automotive" she replied.  "Then the mortgage company raised the interest 
rate on my mortgage and I could not meet the new payments.  I was 
enslaved for debt.  Masterson bought me and I have been here these last 
6 years."

"What sort of problems have you experienced in your job as a supervisor 
here?" I asked.

"The limited hours these teenagers can work and the constant turnover.  I 
am constantly training new girls."

"I am sure Stephanie will be coming back to spend more time with you, 
Rebecca, after she gets her feet on the ground" Jenkins said.  "For now 
we need to proceed with some of her other orientation."

Tom Jenkins then led the four of us back to our fishbowl.  He indicated 
that I should accompany him back to his private office, while the others 
were to get more familiar with their computer terminals.  When we 
entered his office he locked the door and motioned me to lie down on his 
couch.  He proceeded to take all his clothes off and came and lay down 
on top of me.  His intention was becoming all too clear.

"I have been waiting a long time for this!" he said rather excitedly.

I wasn't sure what the big deal was.  If he wanted to use me sexually that 
was his prerogative.  He was, after all, my corporate superior.  I felt his 
hardness against my thigh, then against my vulva.  When he had 
lubricated himself, he then positioned his penis and was soon inside me.  
Although I felt no particular attraction toward this man, the sensation was 
pleasant enough as he began pistoning in and out of me.  His penis was 
thick and made my vagina feel very full.  I did not want him to stop.  Soon 
I began to meet his thrusts and was lubricating copiously.  I felt my clitoris 
becoming quite engorged and sensitive.  The muscles of my pelvis and 
legs were contracting rhythmically as I began to reach my own climax in 
time with his approaching climax.  Then I felt his seed reach my womb.

At that moment he said something that made no sense to me at the time.  
He said "Bright Eyes!"  Then everything changed in an instant.  I suddenly 
remembered who this man was.  

"You bastard!  I shouted as every muscle in my body began to tense.

He was the one who had tried to fondle my leg when I was a free 
employee of this company.  He was the one against whom I had filed the 
sexual harassment claim!   It was his viciousness that had cost me my job 
and led to the poverty that ultimately cost me my freedom.  And this 
bastard had the nerve to penetrate me and come inside me and, in fact, 
still had his half hard penis inside me.  I wanted him out of me, but he 
would not withdraw.  He intended to enjoy the sensations my body could 
provide to his penis for as long as possible.

"Do you know why you were enslaved, Stephanie?"

"Because of my debts" I said

:"Not just that, girl.  Lots of people have over $10,000 in debts and don't 
get enslavement petitions filed against them.  You did because I wanted 
you enslaved.  After you filed the sexual harassment claim against me I 
knew I had to have you, had to be inside you.  Had to become your 
absolute master.  It was a matter of simple sexual justice.  So I went to 
Greg Masterson and persuaded him to start the ball rolling.  You didn't 
even owe the minimum $10,000 so I had to call in some favors to phony 
up some additional debt for you to clear the statutory hurdle.  But it all 
worked out and here you are.  My sex slave for the next ten years!"

"Pull out!  Get off me!"  I wanted to throw him off.  I knew that I was in 
better physical shape than he was and my muscles should have been 
able to throw him off easily.  But somehow my muscles would not do as I 
bid them.  I was helpless physically to resist him.

"Better watch your manners, girl!  I can fuck you six ways from Sunday 
anytime I want.  Or I can keep you in a perpetual state of sexual 
frustration.  For now I think I will just stay inside you and enjoy the 
sensations."  He began to fondle my inner thighs, my labia and my clitoris.
I absolutely did not want to feel any more arousal because of his fondling 
or his presence inside me.  So I began to think about the national debt 
and accounting problems.  It seemed like an hour, but eventually he 
pulled out.  Then he penis whipped my face and dried his penis off in my 
hair.

"Clean yourself up, girl.  Then I will expect to see you back in the fishbowl 
for another staff meeting in fifteen minutes."

<1st attachment end>


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