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`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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A 'Routine' Enslavement - 4
by Falcon (dondaverse@yahoo.com)
***
This is a fantasy of a future society featuring
indentured servitude and legalized slavery. It is a
story of a man who has devoted his life to the business
of enslaving insolvent female debtors, and a young
professional woman who struggles to avoid becoming his
next victim. (MMF, nc, rp, bd, voy, mc)
***
Author Note: This story features scenes of non-
consensual sex. Persons who do not wish to read such
scenes are advised to stop now. The author does not
condone in real life the activities depicted in this
fantasy.
***
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 eye bolts
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 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 old 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 wide by
25 feet long, 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."
To be continued?
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 60