Message-ID: <59613asstr$1258402204@assm.asstr.org>
From: Don Daverse <dondaverse@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} A 'Routine' Enslavement - Chapter 21
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Date: Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:10:04 -0500
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SYNOPSIS

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

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




   

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<1st attachment, "Routine_Chapter 21.txt" begin>

A 'Routine' Enslavement
by Falcon

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


Chapter 21   The Politics of Bondage*

The goal of all Capitallian laws is to create the economic 
and social conditions under which those who have not 
the talent or vision to contribute much to society 
will find it necessary to serve those who do have 
such talent and vision.
 
(From the Capitallian Declaration of Independence, 2089)

*The author wishes to thank corsair for his contributions to this chapter.

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

The meeting of the "Reform Slavery Now" organization that had been 
discussed that day at Green's office had actually been delayed a week.  
During that week I spent a few days with Morgan Richmond and his wife 
and then got settled into my new apartment once the painting was 
complete and all my old furniture moved in.  It was so refreshing to be 
living independently again and to be living among my own things in a 
place I could call home.  

The very day I moved into my new place I had received an invitation from 
Bill to accompany him and Morgan Richmond two days hence to the 
meeting that we had discussed.  Bill said he felt I would find the 
discussion of the proposed reforms very helpful in coming to terms with 
my own experience.  He explained that  "Reform Slavery Now" was an 
umbrella organization that embraced many organizations with a common 
interest in fixing what was wrong with our slavery laws.  Bill explained to 
me that some of these groups held very different views, though generally 
they were all in agreement that changes to existing law were needed. 
There would likely be a clash of viewpoints at the meeting as there would 
be spokespeople for the two major political parties and also from some 
fringe advocacy groups. 

There were to be hearings the following week in the Senate Sub-
Committee on Involuntary Servitude of the Judiciary Committee.  The 
purpose of the "Reform Slavery Now" meeting would be to try to reconcile 
the different viewpoints and present some sort of consensus document of 
proposed reforms to the Senate committee the week following.

The day before the meeting I got a call from the Chairman of the umbrella 
group.  She had heard about the tragedy of my personal experience when 
I ran afoul of the ill-conceived slavery laws.  She wanted to know if I 
would be willing to give a short presentation in front of this meeting 
recounting the highlights of my experience.  While I am not a shy person, 
the idea of telling such an intimate personal story in front of a crowd was 
daunting to say the least.  My resistance melted when she assured me 
that what happened to me would help to inspire and mobilize others to fix 
what was wrong.

That afternoon I got a call from Edgar.  He was enjoying his newfound 
freedom and independence much as I was.  I felt a bond of friendship with 
him because of our shared experiences as slaves together at Masterson 
Automotive, and because he also had been unjustly convicted.  Our 
friendship had only been intensified because of that photo shoot where I 
had been made to fluff the penis of one of my fellow slaves and had 
decided it should be Edgar as an act of kindness.  I hope he understood 
nothing like that would ever happen again now that we were both free.  I 
was not attracted to him in that way.

Edgar had called to tell me he too had received an invitation to speak of 
his unjust enslavement at the meeting tomorrow evening.  He had 
declined, however, as he said he would find it too embarrassing to speak 
of such things before a large audience.

The meeting was held in the ballroom of one of New York's most 
prestigious hotels.   As Bill, Morgan and I entered the room the buzz of 
many animated discussions filled our ears.  We stopped at a table first 
where Bill and Morgan identified themselves as members and were given 
sealed ballots to fill out later.  As a non-member I was not given a ballot.  I 
estimated there were perhaps as many as 500 people here, mostly well 
dressed but not in formal attire.  I looked around and saw that many 
people held up signs advocating this or that position.  Bill proceeded to 
give me a crash course on Capitallian politics.  I had known since grade 
school that there were two major parties - the Civil Rights Party (CRP) 
and the Economic Freedom Party (EFP).  But I had not really understood 
the differences between them other than that the EFP was reputed to be 
a pro business party and the CRP stood more for the rights of the 
individual.  My parents had always voted CRP though they certainly 
weren't anti business.  They believed in the free enterprise system but felt 
that the individual citizen was so often at a disadvantage in dealing with 
huge impersonal corporations.

Bill told me he had always voted EFP since he believed if our nation were 
to prosper we must have a robust and untrammeled business world.  He 
did acknowledge that my own recent experiences had caused him to 
question some of his beliefs.

I saw Paul Gregory in the crowd.  He was the company psychologist at 
Masterson Automotive.  He had listened to me when nobody else would.  
I knew he had helped to set in motion the chain of events that led to my 
freedom.  I went over to him and greeted him warmly.  He expressed his 
regrets about the injustice I had suffered and urged me to not judge his 
company too harshly because of the actions of a few rogue employees.

There were also people here tonight from the Abolish Slavery Party 
(ASP), a minor party but well respected in this town.  As we took our 
seats Bill saw someone he knew from years ago. He was sitting with a 
group of people who were carrying signs for the ASP Party.  Bill asked 
me to come along with him and be introduced.

"Mr. Maxwell!"  I heard him say with genuine warmth in his voice.

"Why Bill Steelforth!  I am glad to see you at this meeting.  Perhaps you 
are teachable after all!" the old man replied.

"Stephanie, this man was my high school civics teacher.  He and I had 
quite some discussions on the slavery issue back in the day.  Mr. 
Maxwell, this is Stephanie Glenn who has had some unfortunate 
experiences with our slavery laws of late.  Perhaps you have heard 
something about that?"

"Indeed I have Bill.  And I understand that you, young lady, are scheduled 
to address this meeting.  While I express my sympathy for the injustice 
you endured, I also feel that your decision to address this meeting may 
indeed help to propel this discussion in the right direction."

I smiled warmly at this and after he and Bill shook hands we made our 
way back to our seats, as others also found their seats.  I felt butterflies 
forming in my stomach.  There were a lot of obviously wealthy and 
important people gathering here tonight and I felt a bit out of my league.  
Edgar had also arrived and took a seat next to mine.

The Chairman, a rather attractive African-American woman who 
appeared to be in her mid forties, called the meeting to order.  

"I want to remind everyone", she began, "that the purpose of our meeting 
tonight will be to hammer out some compromise proposals that we can 
take when we testify before the Senate subcommittee next week.  I don't 
think I am saying anything that we all don't know when I point out that 
much of the impetus for reforms has come from the CRP.  Much of the 
resistance to reforms may be expected to come from certain factions of 
the EFP in Congress in the weeks to come.  We are fortunate, therefore, 
that the EFP is not monolithic on the reform question and that we have 
some of their members who have been meeting with our CRP members 
all week long to draft some of the compromise proposals we will vote on 
tonight."

She stated that there would be brief speeches by spokespeople for the 
three parties present tonight, a surprise guest speaker, and after that 
there would be a roll call vote of the regular members on the various 
compromise proposals that had been drafted in committee.  If some of 
these proposals did not receive a clear majority then amendments from 
the floor would be entertained until consensus could be reached.

Then she introduced the first speaker.  He was from the EFP and 
launched right into a statement of what his party felt should be the guiding 
principles for this reform effort.

"Madame Chairman, and my friends on both sides of the aisle, there has 
been a lot of talk about the need for reforms.  Many of us in the EFP 
agree with the CRP that there are abuses in the present system but we 
feel many of the proposed reforms go too far.  I need not remind such a 
distinguished audience that our legal tools of indentured servitude and 
outright chattel slavery where warranted have done away with the cruelty 
of locking men and women up in cages for decades, enforcing their 
idleness on the one hand and forcing taxpayers to support them on the 
other.  When these legal tools are used properly they represent justice at 
its finest!"

"I think we can all be proud of the fact that our institutions of servitude are 
entirely neutral as between different racial and ethnic groups and neutral 
as between the genders.  Those of us who have watched the slave 
auctions know that it is just as common for a male to be enslaved as it is 
for a female, and that it is just as common for a person of color to wind up 
owning a white person as it is for a white to own a person of color." 

"Our institutions not only represent justice and creative solutions to the 
age old problems of crime and reckless insolvency.  These tools are also 
the lifeblood of our nation's economic life.  Many of our industries depend 
absolutely on slave labor or indentured labor.  Most industries benefit at 
least indirectly.  We need these industries to remain competitive in the 
world markets.  We certainly don't want to burden them with a lot of red 
tape to the point they can no longer afford to employ slave labor and are 
no longer competitive."

"Let us look at some of the more radical reforms that have been 
proposed. To cite one example, there are those who say that a business 
that employs slaves must have constant monitoring by the slave 
advocates.  Such intensive monitoring is costly and they propose to tax 
each business for these services.  Speaking for my fellow industrialists, 
we just can't afford such an elaborate and intrusive system of monitoring."

"Another example would be the whole area of communications by 
indentured persons.  Our opponents in the CRP say we must let 
indentured servants communicate freely with the outside world.  If they 
communicate our trade secrets what then? And where are the resources 
going to come from to police this.  "

"Other areas of disagreement with our friends on the CRP side of the 
aisle include the subjects of mind control and again on mind wiping at 
manumission.  They say our businesses try to control slaves too much, 
intrude into their thoughts too much, and wipe out too many of their 
memories just before they complete their sentences.  But most slaves 
would be useless to industry if these things could not be done. These are 
tried and true practices when they are performed by licensed professional 
agencies.  Government should not be micro-managing our industries in 
these areas.  Reputable businesses should not have to turn their 
operations upside down to accommodate the so-called rights of slaves.  
After all slavery is supposed to be a punishment.  No reputable business 
or licensed professional mind control agency wants to create zombies or 
return people to their families at end of sentence in zombie-like condition.  
It is important that society express its confidence in the business world by 
allowing our business people to have appropriate discretion in all of these 
areas.  That is all I have to say."

The speaker took his seat.  There was vigorous applause but it came 
mostly from one side of the room.  I gathered that most of the EFP people 
were sitting on that side and were applauding one of their own.

The Chairman again took the podium.

"I think this might be an excellent time to introduce a very special person 
who has agreed to address us tonight.  I think many of you may have 
heard of her story.  She was recently set free by a court after having been 
unjustly sentenced to ten years of indentured servitude for debt, and 
actually serving the first year of that sentence.  Her name is Stephanie 
Glenn.  Please come up to the podium Stephanie."

At the mention of my name there were gasps of surprise, delighted smiles 
from some, and a murmur went through the crowd.  My story had been 
reported in the news after the Court set me free.  There had been 
editorials written about my case.  Again I felt the butterflies.  How could I 
discuss anything so personal in front of this huge crowd?  Edgar smiled at 
me and squeezed my hand to give me courage.  Somehow I kept putting 
one foot in front of the other until I was behind that podium looking out at 
those faces.  I saw kindness in many, but some stern expressions and 
clenched jaws from others.  Evidently some felt threatened by what they 
assumed I would say.  Then there were some men who were smiling at 
me but not in a very polite or respectful way.  I felt they were looking at 
me as a sex object.

"Good people", I began, "I appeal to your sense of justice.  I know you are 
all gathered here because you recognize our system is not working as 
originally intended.  I know that many of you have different ideas about 
what reform should look like, and I am not here to attack anyone's ideas.  
But I have been persuaded that if you all heard what I went through that it 
might make a difference."

There was some coughing and an audible intake of air from some of 
them.  Others were looking very pleased indeed that I was speaking of 
my experience.

"My story", I continued, "is the story of a young woman, a citizen and a 
professional, who went to work for a New York based manufacturing firm 
and was sexually desired by her supervisor. I am that woman and my 
employer would not take no for an answer.  I have been asked not to 
name the company or the individual who did this to me.  He fired me for 
making a sexual harassment claim.  He then used the indentured 
servitude law of our nation to get what he wanted by falsifying debts.  I 
was sentenced to ten years under the control of the same company that 
had fired me.  Soon I was working for my old boss again but not as a free 
employee.  On my first day back as an indentured servant he..... well ..... 
he raped me!"

I blinked back tears at this point and knew that my face had drained of 
color and I paused, as there were audible reactions all around the room.  
Some were sympathetic.  Others were frankly disbelieving.  Still others 
were smirking.  I went through the whole sequence of events in detail 
beginning with my job interview, my work as a new accountant, the sexual 
innuendos and threats, my filing a harassment complaint with Human 
Resources, my getting fired, getting blacklisted so no other company 
would hire me.  Then the debts that I could not pay and the "Petition for 
Enslavement" of debtor.  The unreality of it all.  My ill-fated flight to 
Chicago.  Getting indentured, then getting bio-implanted and brainwashed 
so my behavior could be controlled. Then raped and raped again and 
again.  Made to service my old boss and the company's customers.  
Finally being told by the head of my company that I was to bear a child for 
him and his infertile wife and that I had nothing to say about it.

"Finally I was rescued by three brave men.  They are all here tonight.  
One shall remain anonymous, as I would not want to jeopardize his 
present employment.  The other two I will identify.  They are Bill Steelforth 
of the Steelforth Agency, well known to most of you, and Morgan 
Richmond of Richmond Slendabond, also well known to this audience.  
With the help of these gentlemen the necessary evidence and lawsuit 
was formed to bring about my emancipation.  I hope my experience may 
help to shed light on the issues I am sure you will soon be voting on.  
Thank you."

I stepped away from the podium.  At first there was a stunned silence.  
Then gradually the audience began to clap rhythmically and the clapping 
went on for a very long time.  I thought I saw new respect even from 
some of the men that I thought had leered at me on my way up to the 
podium. As I took my seat, Edgar squeezed my hand again and 
whispered to me.

"They respect your courage to tell that kind of story.  I wish I had that kind 
of courage."

The Chairman again took the podium.

"I want to introduce at this time our next speaker.  He is a man who taught 
high school civics for many years before his retirement.  Some of you 
may have been in his class. Now, in his senior years, he is pursuing a 
passion of his that is to work for the abolition of slavery in Capitallia.  He 
has been a regular contributor to Abolition magazine. He is the 
spokesperson for ASP.  I know his viewpoint is at odds with what most of 
you think but let us give him a respectful hearing."

There were actually a few boos, but mostly polite applause, as old Mr. 
Maxwell walked with some difficulty toward the podium.

"I come not to 'reform' the institutions of slavery and indentured servitude, 
but to urge you to abolish these practices.  I would hope that the moving 
story you have just heard from the young lady would cause you to at least 
consider that option.  I do not expect my views or my organization's views 
will prevail in your voting tonight, but I hope at least to get some of you 
thinking so that perhaps at some future meeting of this organization there 
might be a readiness to visualize our society again without slavery - as it 
once was.  We are a spin-off from the United States.  The founding 
document of that nation asserted, "We hold these truths to be self-
evident: that all men are created equal ..."

"Now I realize there are many here tonight who delight in the inequalities 
that our system now makes possible.  For you Jefferson's words must 
ring hollow.  You are inspired instead by the words of Aristotle who once 
endorsed slavery in ancient Greece." 

"You argue among yourselves how to patch this or that aspects of the 
creaking machine you call bondage.  You say all this 'equality stuff' has 
been tried and found to only bring on the decline and fall of civilization, as 
we once knew it.  You say that without slavery we are back to locking 
people up in cages for many years.  I say that it is better to lock a man up 
in a cage for twenty years than to take away his dignity by making him the 
slave of another man.  I promised the Chairman to keep my remarks 
brief."

With that he slowly walked back to his seat to the sound of polite 
applause.
The Chairman again took the podium and introduced the final speaker of 
the evening, the spokesperson for the CRP.  She stepped briskly up to 
the podium amid mild applause.

"Fellow progressives ... and future progressives ..."  There was good 
natured laughter at this.  "I find I must defend our platform from both 
sides.  We have just heard a moving speech from a much revered civics 
teacher and student of history - telling us to abolish what has become the 
signature institution of our society.  On the other hand we have heard 
from the EFP that they have a hard time admitting the institution even 
needs fixing."

Some boos and hissing were heard.

"I like to think my organization is somewhere in the moderate middle.  
One of the areas we think is most in need of reform is that of forced sex - 
of indentured servants being forced to have sex with their masters or 
being prostituted to the general public.  I think most of us in both major 
parties would concede that there is both an economic purpose and a 
moral justification for forced sex in the context of penal slavery.  There is 
no question it punishes the offender while providing a useful benefit to the 
master, the twin pillars upon which our whole penal system is built."  

"Where the problems arise is when the distinction becomes blurred 
between penal slavery and indentured servitude for debt.  While there has 
always been a philosophical and legal distinction between these two, I 
think we all know that in practice there is often very little distinction.  In the 
case of our last speaker, Stephanie Glenn, her sentence was for a ten-
year indenture, not slavery, and the judge specified that the sentence was 
non-punitive.  But did these distinctions help Stephanie?  I think it is clear 
from her story that she was treated much as any penal slave would be 
treated.  She was subject to forced nudity and to every manner of 
humiliation, to forced sex with her boss and with customers, and even to 
forced impregnation and surrogate motherhood.  Partly her experience 
came from the fact that laws are not as clear as they should be, and 
partly her experience came because unscrupulous individuals took 
advantage of inadequate or lax monitoring by the slave advocate 
organization charged with monitoring her employer."

"So let me assert here and now the fundamental legal distinction which 
our founders had in mind when they created these two very different 
kinds of servitude.  A person who has been sentenced to indentured 
servitude is said to have an obligation to labor for a particular master for 
certain stipulated hours and to be generally obedient to that master during 
the stipulated working hours.  Outside of working hours that person is 
entitled to have a private life.  The person's entire being does not belong 
to the master, as it would if he or she were a chattel slave or penal slave.  
Moreover the nature of the labor that is owed to the master during 
working hours is also specified at least in broad general terms.  In 
Stephanie's case arrangements had been made through the court that 
she would perform professional services as an accountant during her 
indenture.  Clearly her professional services alone would have provided 
restitution for the relatively small debt she was convicted of.  Yet she was 
also prostituted against her will, in spite of the fact that sexual services 
were not part of the labor specified in her indenture."

"What happened to Stephanie also illustrates the need for better and 
more comprehensive monitoring by slave advocates.  We cannot just 
trust that businesses will do the right thing.  We are urging that the courts 
require a 30:1 ratio of indentured persons to advocates and a 15:1 ratio of 
slaves to advocates, with the costs of these increased advocacy levels 
being borne entirely by licensed indenture masters and slave owners 
respectively.  We are arguing also that all advocates have had the 
personal experience of having been an indentured person or slave."

"Another major concern of the CRP is that bio-implants and mind control 
technology not be abused.  The potential is certainly there that an 
indentured person could have his or her mental and emotional privacy 
violated or could have memories deleted for possibly illegal or immoral 
reasons - even to wipe a slave's memory of knowledge that his or her 
employer had committed a crime."

"We in the CRP love and respect the institution of indentured servitude for 
debt as much as anyone here, but we maintain that if we are to preserve 
this valuable institution and maintain the public's trust, we must fix what is 
wrong.  That is all."

The Chairman walked back to the podium and made the final 
announcement of the evening.

"Gentlemen, Ladies, if those of you who were given ballots will now open 
those ballots, I will proceed to read the various propositions we are to 
vote on tonight.  The list of propositions and the results of your voting on 
them will be delivered to the Select Senate Sub Committee when they go 
into session next week on the bill to reform indentured servitude."

She proceeded to plod through the various proposals and then the voting 
began.  We did not learn the results of the voting that night.

Bill turned to me and asked if I would join him for a drink in the hotel's bar.  
I accepted.  As he made conversation I began to sense that he was 
interested in a serious relationship with me.  Then he invited me to 
accompany him back to his apartment so that he could show me his "art 
collection".

"Bill", I replied, "I do value your friendship and am grateful for the help you 
have given me, but I sense that you have an interest in me that I cannot 
reciprocate".

He looked crestfallen.

"It isn't that you aren't a very attractive man Bill, or that you don't have 
many qualities that I admire.   But I have been raped during my year of 
slavery.  Not raped once, but raped repeatedly by my boss, by the 
General Manager, and by the customers.  I don't know if I can ever feel 
intimate toward any man after what I have been through."

"Steph", he responded, "I think I understand what you have been through 
- at least as well as any male could.  I am a patient man and I can wait 
until you have had a chance to heal.  Please give us a chance."

"Bill, to be perfectly honest there is another problem.  I cannot feel 
intimate toward a man who is so enthusiastic about this slavery business 
when I no longer believe in it.   I once did believe in it - until I was 
victimized by the system myself.  I can never feel quite the same about it 
again.  I found myself agreeing more with your old high school civics 
teacher than with any other speaker tonight."

"Will you not give me a chance to defend my profession?"

"I am not sure that we will ever see eye to eye on that, Bill.  And there 
may not be any point given my other problem.  Let us just agree to be 
friends and let it go at that.  I am tired now so, if you don't mind, I would 
like to call it a night."

He walked me out and hailed a cab for me.

My new apartment was off of 42nd Street in a low-rent neighborhood.  It 
was only supposed to be temporary, only until I found something better.  
The subway stop was over a block away, but the rent was affordable.  I 
had an option to rent for another year if I had to.  I got into the cab and fell 
asleep almost immediately.  

"Miss, this is your stop.  Let me walk you to your door."  The cabbies 
voice had sounded through the intercom.

I looked out at the drizzle and the wet pavement.

"That's all right," I said.  "You may as well stay dry.  I'll be okay.  You can 
watch me from inside here and leave when the doorman lets me inside 
my apartment building.  I'll be safe then."

The wind blew rain in my face so I pulled my hood low over my brow and 
walked from the taxicab to my door.  My cloak was calf-length and warm, 
not like the slave cloak I had to wear out of court, the one that left my butt 
hanging in the breeze and flashed my pussy at every step.  The doorman 
was named Ralph and he looked like a football player.  He was unfailingly 
polite.  I never asked his background because he was entitled to his 
privacy.  Ralph walked me to the elevator.  I paused in front of the open 
door.

"Ralph, do you know of a convenience store nearby?"

"Miss Glenn, I can have someone deliver whatever you need," Ralph 
said.  "It is a miserable night and I'd feel bad if something happened to 
you."

"I just want to get something for breakfast," I sneezed.  Ralph handed me 
a tissue before I got my purse open.  "Thank you.  I need to get some 
cold medicine, too. I won't be long."

"There is a 24-hour shop on the next block," he told me.  "It is staffed by 
three slaves.  They live there and somebody is always up.  I can call 
someone to deliver--"

"No, Ralph.  I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself.  I have my stun 
gun and I'm not afraid to use it."

I would regret my words.

"As you wish, Miss Glenn," Ralph said.

"Ralph, it isn't any of my business, so I won't be upset if you don't 
answer," I blew my nose again.  Damned this cold! "Are you a slave?"

"I don't mind, ma'am.  I am an indentured servant.  This job requires being 
bonded for insurance purposes.  Indentured servants are cheaper to 
bond.  When my indenture is up, my employer will pay my first year's 
citizenship taxes.  I'm attending school, too.  I'm training to be a security 
guard at the Federal Compound, but I need to complete college."

"Thank you for trusting me," I said.

The walk out to the store was uneventful.  I was tired, and the night was 
cold and damp.  The slave working at the store was Stacy.  Slave labor 
made the full-service convenience store profitable again.  The police 
called self-service convenience stores Stop-and-Robs because the 
customers had free run of the store.  Full service stores kept the clerks 
behind bulletproof glass.  Stacy was scantily clad, but not naked, not 
lewd.  

"I recognize you, Mistress Stephanie," Stacy said.  "I want to thank you 
for what you're doing.  I was enslaved for debt.  Jobs are scarce.  I lost 
mine when the store I worked at went to slave labor.  Now I'm here for the 
next 9 years.  It isn't so bad and I'll have something left over when I'm 
free."  

Stacy filled my order for one breakfast bar, one WakeupJuice in a self-
heating can, a bottle of ColdQwell and a box of Tampax.  As I paid with 
my credit card, I remembered that box of Tampax in my purse that 
betrayed me in Chicago. I silently gave thanks that I wasn't going to have 
to streak naked through this cold October drizzle to my apartment like I 
did in the warmth of a Chicago summer.  My purchases were in a bag in 
the air lock--a device that prevented the slaves from escaping.  In 
accounting school I learned that the little pass-through was equipped with 
scanners that detected the contents of the bag and would match it to my 
receipt.  The outer door would only open when the receipt and the 
contents matched and when the inner door was closed.  This system 
almost eliminated stock shrinkage.  Shoplifting was impossible.  

"Stacy, could I buy you a candy bar or something?" I asked the counter 
slave.  

"You don't have to, Mistress Stephanie," the slave said.

"I want to.  It's no trouble."

A few minutes later I was walking in the rain feeling really good about 
myself.  Stacy had chosen a chocolate bar and she said that she was 
going to share it with the other slaves that worked there.  I pulled my hood 
lower as the rain whipped into my face.  Water beaded against my 
weatherproof cloak.  My feet were wet, but fashion sometimes hurts.  

"Miss Stephanie," a child's voice said from behind, "could you spare a 
dollar?"

Blame the rain.  Blame my cold or the drink I had with Bill after the 
meeting.  Feeling smug about bringing a bit of pleasure to some slaves.  
Normally I would have been more wary.  I turned and faced the child, a 
shivering boy just under my own height.  He wasn't dressed for the wet 
weather and his face was angelic.  I reached in my purse for some 
change when a shadow moved in front of me--and I was grabbed from 
behind.  

Sergeant Major Coxswain's voice echoed in my imagination across the 
years: 'AMBUSH!'  She had been my training instructor in the New York 
State Police Reserve.  All citizens had to prepare to assist their state, 
region or the nation in time of national emergency in at least one line of 
work other than their normal career.  I had chosen the Police Reserves.

My reactions were immediate--I dropped my purse and grabbed the 
hands as they touched me.  My right heel stamped on my assailant's foot 
and he screamed as I jerked his finger backwards.  It snapped and I felt it 
rather than heard it because the boy behind me was screaming in pain.  
I'm no warrior and I cried for the poor child as I pulled his arm straight up 
over my head and shoved my shoulder into his armpit, then bent forward 
at the waist.  He flipped right over me and slammed into the sidewalk.   I 
let go because his scream shut off when he hit the hard pavement.  

"Erin!" the child in front of me screamed.  He whipped out an object and it 
emitted an electric arc.  The child's snarling faced was no longer angelic. 
"You're going to pay, bitch!"

My own stun gun and cell phone were in my purse where I dropped them.  
My long strong runner's legs were hobbled by my fashionable skirt and by 
my all weather cloak and I was tottering on high heels.  My police close 
combat training was mostly leg work for offense--I use a soft martial arts 
style that uses the attacker's movements against him, but my kicks give 
me standoff range.  I run like a gazelle, too.  But I wasn't wearing my 
martial arts clothes nor was I in running shoes -and as I said, I had 
dropped my stun gun.  The boy in front of me extended the arcing 
electrical device and I slapped it away with my right hand, grabbed his 
wrist with my left, stepped into him and whacked the side of his head with 
my forearm.  He was stunned long enough for me to apply a wristlock and 
make him drop the device.  It broke when it hit the pavement, sizzled and 
when out.  The boy screamed as I applied pressure, pivoting back to my 
right and twisting his arm the other way as I took him to the ground.  I 
didn't want to hurt the child more than I had to, but I was going to have to 
do something.  I tripped over the other child, Erin, and the first child and I 
fell to the ground.

"You can use gravity or you can be its victim," Susan Coxwain had told us 
many years ago.  When you get attacked you will be knocked down.  Go 
down on your terms, with gravity as your ally, and the perp will be yours."

I spun while in the air and fell on top of the child.  His breath woofed out 
as we hit.  I put him in a carotid choke-out hold and applied pressure.  He 
struggled a moment, then went limp.

"When a suspect resists arrest, leave nothing to chance." Sergeant Major 
Coxwain's advice thundered in my head.  But they were just children.  
Street urchins.  I didn't want to hurt them.  I got to my feet, found my 
purse and bag, picked them up.  I pressed the emergency services button 
on my cell phone.

"No signal!" the cell phone said.  I looked at the display and the screen 
showed five empty circles and the words 'no signal' in flashing red letters.  
Then everything went blank.

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

Much later I awoke.  I wasn't sure how long I had been out.  The first thing 
I became aware of was that I could not move.  I found myself restrained 
on my back on a bench of some sort.  There was a wide leather belt 
securing my waist to the bench.  My arms and wrists were pulled way 
over my head. My legs were spread wide and held by ankle cuffs 
attached to rods coming out of the foot of the bench.  The next thing I 
experienced was that I was quite naked. As my blurry vision cleared I 
found a familiar presence standing over me.  It was Mel Zigler.  The two 
boys I had fought with on the streets were standing in the background, 
looking on with glee and lust in their eyes.  I figured that I must be in 
some kind of laboratory since there was a lot of electronic equipment 
nearby.  Zigler suddenly turned from me to the boys.

"Kim, Erin - you guys really blew it!  If I hadn't come along just when I did 
and fired that stun gun at her she would have gotten away from us!"

The older of the two boys, a slender red headed youth who appeared to 
be about 16, then pointed an accusing finger at the younger boy who 
could not have been more than 13.
.

"Kim", he shouted, "If you hadn't been so stupid as to call her 'Miss 
Stephanie' she might have thought we were just panhandlers and fallen 
for our act!"

I saw a look of resentment cloud the younger boy's face, the one who had 
been called 'Kim'.  He was shorter and had a stockier look than Erin.

"That's enough Erin!" Zigler shouted.  "What's done is done.  I have more 
important things to attend to then watching you two lads point fingers at 
each other."

With that Zigler turned back to me.

"OK bitch", he hissed, "I have you just where I want you.  I heard about 
your visit to the prosecutor's office.  Luckily for me the prosecutor is a 
friend of mine from college days.  He gave me a heads up on what you 
had in store for me.  There won't be a trial if you are not around to testify.  
But first I want to know about all the evidence you have against me - 
witnesses you planned to call and anything else you have up your sleeve!  
Let's get you into a more obedient frame of mind then, shall we?"

"I have a little persuader here that should be just about right to pry that 
information from you!"

With that he reached with his right hand over to a table and picked up a 
penis shaped probe with an electrical cable attaching it to a generator.  
With his left hand he reached toward my crotch.  I jerked violently when I 
felt his cold clammy left hand touch my vulva and begin to spread my 
labia in preparation to insert the probe.  Despair began to overcome me 
as I realized he was going to electrically torture my sex.  He touched a 
control and I was soon writhing with sensations of an approaching 
orgasm.  I fought it.  Then he increased the voltage and I felt intense pain 
in my genitals.  

"OK bitch.  You will now tell me the names of all the witnesses you were 
going to call!"

"Fuck you!" I spat.  

After five minutes of me writhing in pain he realized this was not working 
and pulled the electric probe out of my vagina.  I saw him pick up a thick 
steel ring with electrical wires trailing away to a control panel.  It appeared 
to be some sort of magnet.  It hinged open and he placed it around my 
neck and snapped it shut.  Then he was fiddling with the nearby control 
panel.  He pushed a button and I heard a loud hum for a few seconds.  
He released the collar from my neck.

"There", he said to the boys.  "That should re-activate her implant and 
make her respond to hypnotic suggestions again".  He obviously did not 
know my implant transponder had been surgically removed.  Maybe I 
should play along and let him think he had me under his control.  He 
spoke what sounded like a code phrase that meant nothing to me.  I 
pretended to be hypnotized.  He gave me a series of commands that I 
followed without hesitation.

"Well boys, she seems to be responding well to commands now.  Let's 
put that to the ultimate test.  Let's see if I can get her to orgasm on 
command."
With that he picked up the penis shaped object once more and again 
separated my labia to insert the probe in my vagina.  Soon I felt mild 
electrical stimulation down there.  I knew at once they I would need to 
fake an orgasm to sustain the illusion that he had me under his control.

"Ooh - do that again Master!" I cried out as I began to writhe on the table 
within the limits of my bonds. 

 I began to think of the sexiest thoughts I could, willing my nipples to 
erect, willing myself to juice.  I hoped I was creating enough of an illusion 
to fool Zigler.  Just then his cell phone rang and he pulled the probe out of 
my vagina and laid it back on the table.  He walked some distance away 
from me and I could just barely hear him speaking to someone in hushed 
tones.

"Then I will meet you at the usual place.  Don't worry man - there will be 
no loose ends."

He hung up and turned back to the boys.

"I have to leave for an hour to meet someone.  Feel free to have a bit of 
fun with the bitch if you want.  I have re-activated all her slave training.  
She will do whatever you ask her to do."

With that he left and I heard the laboratory door slam shut and the faint 
sound of his climbing some stairs in the distance.  I knew from that 
remark about "no loose ends" that this man would kill me later - after he 
got the information he wanted.  I knew he would very likely kill the boys as 
well

"What are we waiting for Erin?"  the younger boy asked.

"Right on, Kim.  Let's not waste our chance!"

With that the two boys began stripping off their clothing.  They both had 
hairless bodies and had obviously spent quite a bit of time in the gym.  
Kim, the younger boy, was first to be naked.  Between his stocky legs I 
saw a small flaccid penis, un-descended testicles and but a sparse 
growth of black pubic hair.  He began playing with himself.  Erin was next 
and his body was a contrast in every respect.  He was a slender lad and 
long of limb.  Between his long slim muscular legs was a crowning glory 
of dense red pubic hair, a happy trail running up his six pack abs, 
generous and low hanging testicles and a rather long penis that was 
starting to become erect.

"Yeah, man," Kim drooled  "Let's flip her so I get the mouth and you get 
the ass."

They had bought it, I realized!  My baby sitters believed that I was under 
their control.  Kim released the clips holding my collar to the table.  Erin 
unfastened my wrists from the point above my head on the bench.  A 
waist strap and cuffs on my ankles kept me immobilized against the 
bench with my legs spread.  They made me sit up and Erin clipped my 
wrists together behind my back.  

My left leg was released and I did nothing.  My right leg was next.  Then 
Erin opened the buckle on the waist strap.  

"Oh, masters, please hurry," I cooed, still trying to act like I was aroused.  
Would they buy my submissive slave bitch in heat act just a moment 
more?  I had been writhing in simulated desire restrained by my bonds so 
that I was as limber as could be under the circumstances.  Now if they 
would only just --

Erin was on my right and Kim was on my left.  The bondage bench was in 
the middle of the room.  I had a chance as Erin, hampered by the injuries 
I had inflicted on him earlier, rolled me in Kim's direction.   The splinted 
fingers of his left hand and his torqued left shoulder gave me enough 
room to pull back my strong right runner's leg as I fell to the left.  I kicked 
as hard as I could from my awkward position, driving a heel into Erin's 
solar plexus.  My kick propelled me into a much-surprised Kim and I fell 
on top of him when we both crashed to the floor.  Kim reacted more 
slowly than I did.  I rolled off of Kim and to my feet.  As Kim tried to rise I 
snap-kicked Kim in the side of the head.  Kim's head struck the bench's 
support leg with a hollow thud and Kim slumped to the floor.

"Bitch," Erin wheezed as he got to his feet.  

I leaped up on the bench, my sculpted leg muscles generating more than 
enough thrust because of my marathons and because of the humiliating 
naked exercise programs MAG put me through, and I executed a clumsy 
flying leap that knocked Erin down.  I fell over hard.  Pain meant nothing.  
Anger fueled by hours of torment and by fear allowed me to shrug off the 
impact and kick Erin again.  He grabbed my legs and for a moment I 
thought I was dead--but Erin moved in between my long strong legs so 
that I couldn't kick him any more.  He realized his mistake when I clamped 
both legs around his arms and chest and began squeezing.  I rolled on 
the floor, pinning his head against the bench.  He coughed and gasped 
and his face turned purple because my muscular thighs were 
compressing his chest, were preventing him from drawing breath.  Erin 
convulsed and shuddered.  I held on long moments more to make sure 
than he was out.

It was hard to wiggle out of that clinch, but I managed.  I forced my joined 
wrists over my solid glutes and down my legs, scraping skin--and shifting 
my cuffed hands in front of me instead of behind me.  I got to my feet and 
looked at the boys.  Erin coughed, recovering from lack of oxygen.  I was 
afraid that Kim was moving again. At that moment I appreciated being in 
this strange room with my two foes naked except for their bandages.  
There was an assortment of bondage gear on the walls hanging from 
hooks set in peg board.  I grabbed several handcuffs and secured Erin's 
wrists around the leg of the bench.  Kim was next.  I straddled him, 
ignoring the stab of pain from my abused crotch as I clipped one cuff 
around his wrist.  Kim snarled and clawed at me and I torqued the cuffed 
hand and shut the other cuff attached to Kim's wrist to the bench's leg. 

"Let me go!  I'm going to kill you!" Kim screamed at me.  I was shaking 
violently.  He couldn't reach me.  "Get back here, cunt!"

Erin groaned.

What time was it?  Zigler could be back any minute.  I had been very, 
very lucky that the boys had underestimated my desperation, had 
overestimated the degree of control that they had over me. I glanced 
around the room looking for my clothes.  They were not inside.  I tried the 
laboratory door--I wasn't going to stay in that room!  It was locked.  With 
my hands bound together I hammered at the door in frustrated rage.  
Behind me Erin began cursing me too.

The remote control fob!  I looked for it and it was out of reach of both 
boys. If either one of them gave me any trouble I was going to hurt them 
very bad.  I skirted Erin and bent over, picking up the remote.  Put 
something on?  My hands were cuffed in front of me and the boys were 
both smaller than me--I wasn't going to be wearing THEIR clothes.  I 
pointed the fob at the door and began pressing buttons.  The lights went 
out, the alarm rang, the lights went back on--and the door slid open.  I 
dashed from the dungeon and used the control fob to shut the door again.  
A short set of stairs led up.  The hallway was chilly and I was naked--but I 
wasn't going to stay.  My life depended on getting out of there.  The 
second door at the top of the stairs swung open after a bit of 
experimentation.  

I found myself in what appeared to be an office.  There was a box in plain 
sight that held my clothing, shoes, purse and cell phone.  Quickly I pulled 
a few things on.  The high-heeled shoes would be useless.  I ran out into 
the street barefoot.  I wasn't sure where I was but it looked like 
somewhere in lower Manhattan.  I ran as fast as I could for several blocks 
until I was able to hail a cab.  Only then did I pull out my cell phone and 
dial a number.  Bill Steelforth's number.


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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

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