Message-ID: <60358asstr$1276387802@assm.asstr.org>
From: Don Daverse <dondaverse@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} A 'Routine' Enslavement - Chapter 22 - 26
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Date: Sat, 12 Jun 2010 20:10:02 -0400
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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 22.txt" begin>

Chapter 22.  Steelforth Licks His Sexual Wounds

   Damn!  After Stephanie's rejection in that hotel bar, I hurt in parts of
me I didn't even know I had.  Sure she had said she would have trouble
relating to any man after her experiences being raped.  But the part I
really heard was when she said she couldn't relate to me because I was a
slaver.  That hurt!  I had been feeling both lust and something more than
that for this woman ever since that day I performed a "Creditor's
Examination" upon her naked person in my office during her enslavement
trial.  I had wanted to fuck her then, and could have, but something had
stayed my penis.  I knew, somewhere at the back of my mind, that I wanted
much more from her than just a quick fuck, though I had not exactly defined
what it was I wanted.  Now she was free to reject my advances - in
considerable measure because I had worked to achieve her freedom!

   Her rejection had somehow sexually aroused me and I was tenting my
pants. I had this major case of blue balls and wanted a quick simple
uncomplicated release with just about any attractive woman.  And although I
was not normally a vindictive man, I felt that the quick release I wanted
would be even sweeter if I could humiliate someone in the process.  After
all I had just been humiliated, or so I felt, and it seemed right somehow
to be able to turn the tables.

   On my way home I passed by a major 24-hour shopping mall and remembered
I needed a few drugstore items.  I got my hard-on down and made my way
inside.  There were a surprising number of customers in Pickup-Mart for
this time of evening.  As I searched for the right aisle I passed the
jewelry counter and there was an attractive young red headed woman there
looking over some rather expensive looking watches the clerk had placed on
the counter top for her inspection.  I noticed her because she was
fashionably dressed in an exquisite silk blouse with fine accessories and
because she was quite slender and her skirt came only to mid thigh, showing
off a splendid pair of lightly muscled legs.

   She asked the clerk to pull another watch from a case some distance
away. As the clerk turned away to retrieve the requested item I saw the
young woman slip one of the watches into the waistband of her skirt.  I
marveled that it did not just fall through to the floor until I realized
she must have dropped it inside her panties.  Just then she called out to
the clerk that she had changed her mind and had no more time for shopping
and started to walk away.

   She was walking toward the store entrance where I had come in only a
minute before.  I knew the chief of security at this mall and he had once
done a favor for me.  I used my mobile device to give him a heads up about
this shoplifter.  He thanked me abruptly and hung up.  Soon there were two
security guards - one male and one female - approaching the young
shoplifter.  The male officer blocked her way to the exit while the female
security officer grabbed her firmly by one arm.  I couldn't help but notice
the female officer had an appealing figure - slender and long limbed like
our shoplifter, but more muscular.

   "What is the meaning of this?" the shoplifter cried out with feigned
outrage.  "I have done nothing wrong.  Surely there must be some mistake!
Take your hands off me you bitch!"

   "You have a stolen watch on your person young lady and as your wristband
shows that you are not a citizen, you must come with us to the mall
security office!" the male officer informed her.

   "I won't go!  You two rent-a-cops can't make me do anything!" she
screamed as she began to struggle with first the female officer and then
the male officer.

   "We are legally permitted to arrest you under these circumstances ma'am"
the female officer interjected.  "And as a non-citizen, if you resist us we
can legally strip you right here to prove you have stolen merchandise on
your person."

   This seemed to give the young shoplifter pause for a moment.  She looked
scared as she realized this could indeed happen.  Then she screamed out a
whole string of curses and while the male officer was pulling her hands
behind her to handcuff her she was kicking out at the female officer. 
Apparently she thought if she got other shoppers to notice her someone
would come to her rescue.  It was not to be.  Other shoppers noticed all
right but most looked on with either grim satisfaction or glee. 
Shoplifters were not popular and most people felt they got what they
deserved.

   Soon she was cuffed but she refused to walk with the officers.  A second
pair of handcuffs was put on her ankles to prevent her kicking.  The male
officer picked up her high-heeled shoes that had come off and stuffed them
in his back pockets.  The two of them then picked her up and carried her
still cursing toward the elevator to the security office downstairs.  Just
before she was picked up the female officer looked in my direction and
called out to me.

   "Chief asked if you would accompany us sir.  He would like to thank you
personally for turning her in!"

   At that bit of news I saw the young shoplifter look in my direction. 
She had paid no attention to me before, but now there were daggers in her
eyes as she tried to stare me down.

   As she was hoisted up her skirt rode up somewhat and I had the
opportunity to see even more of her nylon clad legs.  I followed these
three to the elevators.  As we all got in the elevator the officers
continued to carry the struggling shoplifter in a horizontal position with
her knees higher than her torso.  Her skirt had ridden up yet higher and I
was in a fairly good position for a look up her skirt.  I could see where
her nylons ended and that her panties were pulled tight into her crotch. 
The shape of her cleft of Venus was just discernible in the way the panties
clung to her.  The two guards could see where I was looking but made no
attempt to adjust the handcuffed shoplifter's skirt for greater modesty.

   We entered the suite of security offices in the basement level.  Chief
Warren Redford greeted me warmly and shook my hand as we entered.

   "Bill, we have recently acquired a new toy that I think a man in your
line of work might appreciate!" he said with a twinkle of the eye.

   "Her bracelet says non-citizen" he continued looking at the guards "but
you better scan it to make sure we know who she is" the Chief instructed
the security guards.

   As soon as they swiped her bracelet a computer screen lit up showing her
name as Ms.  Rebecca Stinson, non-citizen resident, occupation as
receptionist at some law firm I had never heard of, her address, contact
information, retina scan, credit history, prior brushes with the law and
much else.

   "Get a live retina scan on her now", the Chief directed, "to make sure
it matches what is on file for this Rebecca Stinson.  We need biometric
confirmation that the information on our computer screen represents her
real name, identity and other particulars.  Some shoplifters use false ID
after all."

   This was done and the retina scans matched.

   "Take the young lady into our new scanner room" he added, looking at the
two guards.

   The Chief and I followed the two guards as they continued to carry the
struggling shoplifter into a room containing what I immediately recognized
as a full body scanner.  Evidently she recognized the nature of the machine
as well since I noted her intensifying her struggles and attempting to kick
out at the guards.

   "You can't do this!  I am a free legal resident!  I have rights!  Get me
out of this infernal machine and take the cuffs off me!" she cried.

   "Actually we can do this because you are not a citizen and because you
have given us 'probable cause' for such a scan of your body" the Chief
answered her.  "In fact Mr.  Steelforth here is the one who gave us the
probable cause by his willingness to testify against you in court should
that become necessary."

   Soon they had her positioned vertically in the machine with her hands
cuffed to an attachment point above her head and her ankles secured to the
floor and separated by about two feet.  Other rods were adjusted to insure
that she would maintain the desired position and could not move about very
much.

   "Bill, I think you are going to be impressed with what this machine can
do!" the Chief said proudly.  The older machines produced black and white
images only, the images were somewhat grainy and did not always show as
much detail as one would wish.

   The machine began to whir as it took multiple scanning passes.  The male
security officer had been dismissed and The Chief and I and the female
officer stood in front of a large computer monitor where a full body image
began to materialize.  It showed a full color image of our young shoplifter
fully dressed including the colors and textures of her clothing, the sheen
of her silk blouse, the texture of her nylon clad legs and so forth.

   "So far only a normal photographic image that is useful to document her
identity among other things.  All the images will be permanently saved on
our hard drive for later recall.  A sophisticated computer program controls
the display of images so that each image will show us what we want to see
and nothing we don't want to see.  Next you will see a layered stripping
process.  Watch!"

   Suddenly the outer layer of clothing was gone.  What we saw now was the
girl wearing a bra, panties and her nylon hose.  I was impressed at how
well the machine was able to render the skin tones and textures.  She had
very smooth and nicely tanned skin, a small birthmark just below her
clearly delineated collarbone and one could see from tan lines that she
often wore a Brazilian style high cut bikini to the beach.

   "If you wonder how our machine can strip away outer garments while not
stripping away underwear, I can tell you how it is done.  The machine takes
multiple scanning passes, each pass penetrating a fraction of a millimeter
deeper than the previous pass.  Depth of penetration is controlled by
changing the frequency or wavelength of the x-rays and by subtracting out
reflections that come back to the camera from too shallow or too deep a
level."

   I nodded my head, pretending I could follow all this tech speak.

   Our young shoplifter was looking in our direction with an anxious
expression on her face.  The monitor was angled so that she could not see
the actual images we three were seeing but she could see the amused
expression on my face and listen to us talking about her body.

   We were also able to observe the details of her navel and a small heart
shaped tattoo just below the navel and just above the panty line.  Dimly
visible through the semitranslucent material of the panties was a dark area
on her mons suggestive of pubic hair.  Just to one side of that, above her
right leg, we saw a slight bulge in the elastic waistband and some object
about the size of a watch was dimly visible through the material.  The
panties were still pulled tight into her crotch so that they perfectly
outlined the sweet cleft between her young legs.  The gusset of the panties
was a reinforced panel so more could not be seen as yet.  The image was
clearly incriminating so the Chief pressed a button to make sure we had
saved the image to the hard drive and printed out a copy as well to attach
to her file.

   Next we saw the naked image of this shoplifter.  The image was
everything a voyeur would wish for.  Even the female officer seemed quite
interested.  I could see a certain sexual tension in her the way she was
holding her muscles.  Perhaps she was lesbian or at least bi-sexual I
thought.  In addition I was startled to see a couple of stolen items that
had been concealed by her underwear now clearly visible.  The watch above
her right leg could be seen in sufficient detail to read the brand of it
and the time of day it displayed.  It was strange to see it since it did
not appear to be supported by anything now that the elastic waistband was
no longer shown.  In similar fashion we could see that there was a silk
handkerchief of some sort that appeared to be clinging to her left breast.

   The breasts were full and firm and about C-cup size I should think.  The
skin of the breasts was much whiter than other skin - suggesting she seldom
made a practice of exposing the breasts when tanning at a public beach or
swimming pool.  My eyes naturally traveled down to her mons where I saw a
very thick mass of curly red pubic hair that she had neatly trimmed into a
heart shape.  The color matched the color of hair on her head exactly.  My
eyes dropped still lower and I was treated to one of the most beautiful
vulvas I had ever been privileged to see.  The detail was incredible.  The
female security officer did not look bored.

   "There used to be this silly legal requirement" the Chief continued,
"that the machine must scramble the so-called 'private areas'.  While I can
understand the rationale for that it simply isn't workable in the security
business.  After all these bitches often use their so-called private parts
to conceal stolen merchandise.  We have to be able to see everything!"

   "You fucking perverts!" the young woman screamed.  "Turn your fucking
machine off!"

   "If you have objections to body scanning, you should have thought of
that before you committed the crime and gave us cause to scan you!" the
female officer answered her.

   Just then I saw the Chief activate something called the "Zoom Feature".
The machine began to display an increasingly detailed close-up image of her
vulva.  It lingered on her left outer labia for a while and we could see
individual pubic hairs filling the whole screen.

   "Do you see that!" the Chief suddenly exclaimed.  "Count down three
pubic hairs from the top of the screen and tell me what you see!"

   "It looks like a small scar or birthmark of some sort" I replied.

   "Exactly.  And that could be very useful for identification by other
security officers in other shopping malls if the young lady ever tries to
change her name to escape her past."

   "You are going to put images of my private parts in some national
database where anyone can look at them?" the young woman cried out
hysterically.

   "No ma'am.  That would never happen unless you are convicted, or if you
confessed and then stole again.  Even then the images would only be
accessible to licensed security officers or police who have you in their
custody as a result of some future incident.  If you confess to us later
tonight and don't steal again nobody but this department will have access
to the images or even knowledge that you were arrested."

   "But what if I don't confess?" she asked.

   "Then you would go to trial and, if convicted, the images will go into a
law enforcement database where any security officer or police could access
them," the Chief replied.

   She looked shaken at this revelation.

   The Chief moved the Zoom viewer to the center top of the vulva and we
were able to just see the tip of the clitoris peeping out from under the
clitoral hood.  We noted that she had a gold clitoral ring installed
through the upper part of the clitoral hood.  There was an inscription on
the ring and, although he zoomed in close, we couldn't quite make it out.
He was able to read the RFID number off the ring, however.  A quick
computer lookup revealed that a ring bearing this RFID number had been
reported stolen from one of Pickup-Mart's other stores two weeks earlier.
Then he dropped the zoom area a bit lower and we saw a few drops of what
was clearly urine.

   "Those drops would be indicative of her fear at being arrested and could
possibly help us to document her guilty state of mind", the Chief
commented. He then pushed a button to make sure we had a permanent image on
the hard drive and a hard copy to attach to her file.  We could not see the
vaginal opening since the lips of the vulva were pressed close together. 
Nothing had been done as yet to open up this area.

   "Now we go deeper still," he continued.  "We will now look inside her
body cavities to see what else we might find.

   Now I was seeing images that looked more like traditional medical x-ray
images.  First he looked inside her ears and nose and found nothing, then
inside her throat and stomach and her rectum and still found nothing.  Then
he moved the focal point of the depth scanner to her vagina and we saw a
clear image of a bottle of perfume hidden in there.  He adjusted the
resolution so that we could even read the label on the bottle through her
flesh and verify that it was a very expensive brand of perfume.  He was
able to read the RFID number off the bottle through her flesh as well and
determine that it had not been paid for.  I was impressed.

   "OK.  I think we have seen quite enough in this virtual stripping to
justify a literal stripping," the Chief finally exclaimed.  "Release her
from the machine now and attach her to the exam table."

   I must confess I was really hard after watching this exciting stripping
process.  I did my best not to let the Chief or the two officers see me
tenting my pants.

   They had a portable table setup and proceeded to strap the young
shoplifter to that.

   The female security officer produced a digital camera and proceeded to
take pictures of the young woman in this disheveled state, including
close-ups of her face.  They dumped the contents of her purse on a side
counter and checked to see if she had any other stolen items.  Then the
table, which was on wheels, was rolled into the Chief's office with our
shoplifter on it.

   "You may as well come in here too" the Chief called to me.  "You should
see how we deal with shoplifters here.  Of course had she been a citizen we
would follow an entirely different protocol."

   I must admit I was intrigued.  If the shoplifter had been some old hag I
would probably have been content to let the law take care of itself.  But
this was not the case.  All four of us followed the gurney.  I felt my
hard-on gently tenting my slacks again and willed it down.  In the Chief's
office they began stripping her of her clothing.

   "Do these fucking men have to be here!" our pretty shoplifter hissed.

   The Chief motioned to the male guard and he, somewhat disappointed left
the room.

   "What about him?" she asked, indicating me.

   "This is Bill Steelforth.  If it wasn't for him you wouldn't be here
now. He observed your theft and will be the star witness against you if
this case goes to court.  In his line of work he is already licensed to
perform, witness or participate in female examinations.  We want him to
witness your complete exam so that he can testify that we didn't plant any
additional evidence on you."

   They carefully checked that she had not hidden any other stolen items on
her person.  First to go was her beautiful silk blouse.  An RFID scan
revealed that it was stolen.  As the female security officer removed her
C-cup bra the silk handkerchief we had seen in the body scanner fell out.
But my interest was much more directed to her newly exposed breasts.  They
were beautifully shaped and resilient to the officer's touch and her
nipples were erect.  It could have been fear or possibly the chilly air in
the room, but I really suspected we had someone who was turned on by the
eroticism of being forcibly examined in this way by two men and a woman,
though I am sure she would never admit it.

   Next to go was the skirt, with the officer retrieving the watch from the
waistband of her panties and the Chief examined it closely and photographed
it as evidence.

   "We need to remove her nylons, Bill," the Chief announced.  "We will
need to check for any scars, birthmarks or tattoos that might help identify
her at a later time.  Perhaps you would like to do the honors!"

   I needed no persuasion on this point.  I began at once to roll down
first the nylon on her left leg, then that on her right leg.  It was a
pleasure and I took advantage of the opportunity to caress those beautiful
muscular well-defined limbs in the process.  I had examined many young
women in my line of work, but this sort of thing was a pleasure of which no
red-blooded male could ever tire.  The chief then pulled out some
extendable rods with ankle cuffs from holsters on the sides of the table
and indicated that the female officer and I should use these to secure our
shoplifter's ankles and legs widely apart.

   The Chief had probable cause to order the removal of our shoplifter's
panties since we had all seen that she had both a stolen clit ring and an
item of stolen merchandise secreted inside her vagina.  As the female
officer inched her panties down the very curly red pubic hair came into
view and we could see that the color of that seen on the body scanner had
been very accurate.  As the clit ring came into view the officer held it up
and read the inscription aloud to us.  It said "Rebecca Loves Jeremy".  As
the panties came all the way off I could see a small yellow stain in the
gusset as they were removed.  It was clearly urine and confirmed what we
had seen on the body scanner.  It was evidence suggestive of her fear and
probable guilty state of mind at time of her arrest and would be preserved
as evidence.

   More pictures were taken.  I noted that in this position, with her
thighs held wide apart by those extended rods and cuffs, her labia opened
up nicely and I got a much better look at her cleft and at the outer
opening of her vagina.  The female officer donned latex gloves and reached
inside our shoplifter's vagina to retrieve that small bottle of perfume we
all knew was hidden in there.

   The Chief indicated that we would confiscate the stolen clit ring as
well.  The female officer at first had difficulty, or perhaps pretended to
have difficulty, finding the ring's release catch and had to manipulate the
ring quite a bit searching for it.  This caused considerable stimulation of
the clitoris and we all noted with amusement that our shoplifter became
visibly aroused by all this stimulation.  Her labia became engorged and we
could observe some sexual secretions as well.  Finally she 'found' the
release catch and soon the clit ring was removed and joined the other items
on the table.  All the while the young shoplifter was trying her best to
buck but the straps allowed her very little movement.  She continued to
curse and shout insults at all of us.  I think I heard the word "perverts"
shouted more than once.  Finally the Chief stuffed one of the nylon
stockings I had taken off her in her mouth to quiet her.

   "All right Miss Stinson" the Chief began.  "We know who you are from
your ID bracelet and I am going to tell you what happens next.  At this
point you can, if you wish, stand on your rights as a free legal resident
of this state and this nation and demand that we turn you over to city
police.  They will place you under arrest and take you to pre-trial
detention tonight.  In the morning you will be brought before a judge and
charged with shoplifting.  If convicted and it is your first offense you
will be sentenced to perhaps six months of community servitude.  If you
have priors, and we know you do, you could get 2 years or more of slavery.
There is little doubt you would be convicted since we have you on videotape
committing the act and Mr.  Steelforth here witnessed your theft and would
be willing to testify against you.  Nod your head if you understand what I
have told you so far."

   We saw her nod her head frantically and make mewing sounds.  The Chief
pulled the sock out of her mouth so she could communicate with us.

   "I will leave the sock out as long as you watch your language and your
behavior young lady."

   "Is there ...  is there another alternative?" she asked.  I could see
she was scared now and most of the fight had gone out of her.

   "Why yes.  This mall does not like to ruin people's lives.  It is not
good business.  But we do need to make an example of shoplifters to deter
others.  I am sure you understand."

   She nodded glumly.

   "So what we offer you Miss Stinson is a chance to confess on videotape,
to clear your conscience and allow us to have documented proof of your
admission of guilt.  Then we ask you to consent to let us punish you in our
own way.  I can assure you that our punishment will be far easier to take
than any a court would pass on you."

   "What would I have to do?" her voice was barely a squeak now.

   "When you steal from one of our stores you are really stealing from your
fellow customers.  The store must charge all our customers higher prices
because of thefts by people like you.  What we want you to do is compensate
our customers for the extra costs that you and others like you have imposed
on them."

   "Just tell me how much and I will write out a check."

   "It is not going to be that simple ma'am.  That would be far too easy.
What we require is for you to give our customers pleasure so they will feel
some sense of vindication that something is being done to make them whole
for at least some of the extra costs they have had to bear.  That way they
will continue to prefer shopping in our mall.  And we insist that you
experience humiliation in the giving of that pleasure so you will not be
tempted to steal from us again."

   "Surely you don't mean, ..." she wailed.

   "You are an attractive woman Miss Stinson, and you seem reasonably
intelligent.  Must I spell it all out for you?"

   We saw her pained expression as she thought of the implications of this.
Then she began uncontrollably sobbing.  After several minutes she spoke to
us again.

   "How many ...  and for how long?" she gasped.

   "Now that is the good news.  We only ask you to enter into a five-day
sexual indenture.  Because it is a legal indenture, once you have agreed to
it you will not be able to back out.  It is an enforceable contract and we
will force you to fulfill it.  If you perform well we may free you after
one or two days of service.

   "During your days of service you may be required to provide sexual
pleasure to quite a number of our customers.  Usually what that means is
that you will be placed in a booth in one of our stores where you will be
handcuffed and blindfolded.  You will give blowjobs to quite a large number
of male customers.  Female customers may also demand oral sex from you.  As
you will be blindfolded you will not know who is using you.  But they will
know who you are and the crime for which you are being punished.  They may
or may not be people you know.  We are willing to let you serve your days
at a store two hours outside New York City if you prefer, to minimize the
chance that anyone you know will see you perform this degrading service. 
The four hour round trip transportation will of course lengthen each day of
your service."

   "When will I be providing this sexual service?"

   "We will let you go home with a tracking device locked on your ankle
tonight.  In the morning we will expect you to report at 6:30 am for the
two-hour bus ride to our out of town store.  You will serve there from 9am
when that mall opens until 7pm, then a twohour bus ride back here.  Each
day you will report again at 6:30 am.  If we are sufficiently impressed
with your performance we may set you free without your serving the full
five days."

   "Will I be able to refuse certain customers if they are too fat, too
ugly or not clean?"

   "No ma'am I am afraid not.  Your indenture will specify "No Right of
Refusal".

   "Will it be only blowjobs, or might other ...  things be required of
me?"

   "Usually it is only blowjobs, but there is no guarantee of that" the
Chief responded.  "It is possible we may let a few of our V.I.P.  male
customers fuck you."

   "Can I call my lawyer for advice on this?"

   "Sure you can.  But he will only advise you to take the deal.  Our deal
is infinitely better than going into the system and having a criminal
record.  And if your lawyer doesn't answer your after hours call you still
have to make a decision tonight.  We can't let you go home until we have
your videotaped confession and a signed contract of indenture, and have
placed a locking device on your ankle.  Otherwise we would have to turn you
over to the police."

   "Well, if you are determined to humiliate me then just get on with it!"
she hissed.

   The female security officer then released the straps holding her to the
table and dressed her in the bra, silk blouse and skirt and walked her over
to a chair where she was seated with her hands still cuffed behind her. 
The Chief turned the video camera on and they recorded her confession. 
After that they read her the contract of indenture and explained what it
meant and had her sign it - all in front of the video camera.  She had
committed herself irrevocably to being punished by store security for what
she had done.  Finally an officer clicked the electronic tracking device to
her ankle and locked it.

   Her stolen silk blouse was confiscated and added to the pile containing
her panties, and her nylons.  She remained handcuffed.

   "Will you take these fucking cuffs off me now and let me go home?"

   "I am afraid not just yet ma'am," the Chief responded.  "You see you
have managed to sexually arouse Mr.  Steelforth, a citizen who has been
good enough to assist in your apprehension and thereby possibly save you
from a life of crime.  We think you should be grateful to him with your
body and show him respect and that you are a humble and thankful girl!"

   "Fuck that!  This guy ratted me out!  And he has been getting his
jollies for the last hour now at my expense!  I am not going to give him
any pleasure!' she screamed.

   "Ma'am you are under sexual indenture now so you are in no position to
say who you will please or not please!" the Chief reasonably replied.

   "Take our young shoplifter into the men's room so Bill can have some
privacy with her behind a locked door," the Chief directed the female
security officer.  "Make sure you secure her in a kneeling position with
her neck immobilized and a bite block in her mouth.  Afterward you can have
a bit of fun with her yourself if you are so inclined.  Then she can go
home."

   I followed as the female officer escorted the still handcuffed
shoplifter down the hall and into the men's room.  She still had on her bra
and the skirt, but no panties, nylons or shoes.

   "Do you want me to remove all her clothes, sir?" the officer asked.

   "I think I would prefer that" I responded.  Soon the bitch was quite
naked with her hands still cuffed behind her.

   The officer made her kneel on the tile floor, secured an iron collar
around the girl's neck, then pulled a thick steel rod out from the wall and
attached the rod to the girl's collar.  There was also an attachment that
braced her head so that she could not even turn it from side to side.  This
forced the girl to remain kneeling and made it so she could not move her
head or neck in the slightest.  Then I saw the guard force the girl's mouth
open and insert a steel appliance of some kind.  The girl was no longer
able to completely close her mouth as the device held her teeth apart by a
cock's width.

   "That is to protect your dick sir, in case she takes a notion to bite
you" the officer explained.  "I will leave you in privacy now sir, unless
you would prefer me to remain?"

   I was intrigued by her question as it showed a possible sexual interest
in what was about to happen.  The idea of having her watch seemed kind of
kinky.

   "I give you permission to stay and watch if I can also stay and watch
the girl pleasure you as well."

   The female security guard smiled at this and nodded her assent.  I then
unzipped my pants, fumbled with my underwear and extracted my long flaccid
penis.  It didn't stay flaccid very long as I was really pumped by what I
was about to do.  I would be raping this shoplifter's mouth and that was
exciting me because I absolutely believed the girl deserved that for her
multiple crimes.  I could never do a thing like this to an innocent girl.
But I believed crimes should be punished and what better way to punish this
one?

   I approached the restrained girl with my now hard dick.  She began to
curse me but her curses soon turned to mewing sounds as I began to fill her
mouth with my hardened penis.  I could see she was trying valiantly to turn
her head to first one side and then the other to expel me but her head
brace would not allow that.  I knew that the other appliance would protect
my penis from any injury she might try to inflict.  I began to enjoy the
velvet smoothness of her tongue and cheeks.

   "Close your lips around his dick, bitch!" the female officer yelled. 
"The bite block only holds your teeth apart, not your lips!  Do it!" When
she did not the officer got out her electric stun gun and touched it to the
girl's crotch and gave her a painful jolt.  Then I felt the divine pleasure
of those lips making a tight circle around my cock.

   The pleasure was building as I began to piston in and out of her.  On my
inward strokes I got closer to the back of her throat and she began to gag.
I decided to hold my cock all the way in for a while and thereby control my
shoplifter's ability to breathe.  She began to squirm wildly when she
realized she couldn't get any air.

   "As you show a more obedient attitude, girl, I will let you breathe
again."

   I had this feeling of incredible power at that moment.  She nodded her
head frantically indicating her willingness to submit.  I eased my penis
back partway and heard her gulp for air.  I continued to pleasurably piston
in and out of her head as I watched tears form and roll down her face. 
That was the frosting on my cake and pushed me over the edge.  I began to
ejaculate into her mouth, spurt after spurt.  I saved the last spurt and
pulled out using it to decorate her face.  I managed to glue shut one of
her eyes with my spunk.  I noted with satisfaction that one of my pubic
hairs had gotten caught in her teeth.  I had emptied my balls and had that
wonderful sensation of being satisfied physically and, to a large extent,
emotionally as well.  I had started out this evening's adventure wanting to
humiliate a female and I had fulfilled my ambition.

   The female security officer had pulled her camera from its holster and
proceeded to take a picture of our naked shoplifter and then a close-up of
her face detailed enough even to show the pubic hair caught in her teeth.

   "Here you are sir," she said handing me the two photos.  "I wanted to
make sure you had a little souvenir for your private collection, sir!"

   I thanked her and then realized that to be considerate of the officer I
should clean the shoplifter's face of my ejaculate.  So I got a damp paper
towel and proceeded to clean her up.  The next bit would be interesting
too. I was going to get a much better look at the body of the security
officer and, with any luck, witness her sexual arousal and release.  She
was also an attractive young woman and more muscular than our shoplifter.

   I watched with great interest as the female security guard removed her
uniform.  I was impressed with her thin torso, muscular biceps and the long
lean look of her legs.  When her panties came off I noted her completely
bald vulva and that there appeared to be some sexual secretions there. 
Evidently she had become aroused watching me use the girl and did not mind
showing me this fact.

   Soon she was pressing her mound in the girl's face and humping her.  I
saw the tension in the guard's legs as she continued to hump.  I could see
the shoplifter's mouth becoming wet with cuntal secretions.  Then the guard
was crying out in her orgasm.  Although I had seen many women orgasm in my
office as part of a Creditor's Examination, it was always a pleasure.  That
the security guard was voluntarily allowing me to witness her pleasure was
also a treat.  After ten minutes or so the guard had completely spent.  I
grabbed her camera and took a couple shots so she would have a souvenir of
how the shoplifter's face looked.  I asked the guard if I might take a
fulllength naked picture of her as well for my collection.  She gave me
this big grin and nodded her assent.

   Finally we marched the shoplifter back to the Chief's office, naked as
she was.  The Chief released the girl's handcuffs, removed the bite block,
and handed her the bra, skirt, nylons and shoes and an orange jacket to
wear home.

   "We are confiscating your silk blouse, your clit ring and the other
stolen items, and will keep your panties as evidence" he announced.

   The girl was beyond fighting or shouting abuse now and simply accepted
his announcement and proceeded to get dressed and walked out of there -
presumably to the parking lot to get in her car and go home.

   It had been a most pleasant evening for me.

   As I drove home that evening I realized that although I was physically
satisfied, there was another part of me that was still hungry.  I was
hungry for a female companion who would appreciate me.  Someone who would
love and value me as a person and the work I did as a slaver, which was an
important part of who I was.  My thoughts returned to the idea of taking on
a young female apprentice - perhaps a girl as young as 13.  I knew there
were girls that age that dreamed of one day becoming slavers in their own
right and would love the chance to study the profession under someone like
myself.  I knew too that one of these would not judge me as Stephanie had
done.

   Of course I could not legally have sex with such a girl until she
reached the age of consent - 16 in New York State.  But I could enjoy her
in so many ways short of that and perhaps look forward to the day, some
years from now, when she would consent to our relationship becoming a
sexual one.  The anticipation would be quite as delicious as the reality.

   By the time I arrived at home I realized that this was a dream that
would need to be deferred.  I had too much else on my plate right now to
take on the responsibility of developing such a relationship with a young
girl.





   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

   Note: If you are enjoying this story author would appreciate feedback to
dondaverse (at)

   yahoo (dot) com.
   

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<2nd attachment, "Routine_Chapter 23.txt" begin>

Chapter 23.  Just Deserts

   In the aftermath of my being attacked and violated Bill became
increasingly necessary to my sense of security.  When I had called him from
the taxi he had immediately given me the address of his town house.  He
pointed out, sensibly, that it would now be unsafe for me to return to my
own apartment.  He had also asked me in that call if I had noted the street
address of the place where I had been held captive.  I assured him that I
had.

   When I arrived at his place I fell into his arms.  I needed so badly to
feel safe again.  The tigress in me had collapsed by this time and I just
wanted someone stronger than me to hold me and tell me that everything
would be all right.  His powerful arms held me tight for what seemed like a
very long time.  At last he escorted me to his sofa and offered me a drink
I much needed.  He called the police for me and they took a brief statement
by phone.

   "Miss Glenn", Sergeant Withers began, "Now that you have taken the oath
just now and agreed to give your statement under penalty of perjury, I
would like to go over the key points.

   "After the street assault by the boys", the officer continued, "you say
the last thing you remember was that you had subdued the boys and were
walking away?"

   "Yes", I replied, "but then I woke up tied to a bench in what appeared
to be a laboratory of some kind.  I found that I could not move and that I
was naked."

   "And who was the first person you saw there?" the officer asked.

   "It was Mel Zigler, the General Manager at the last place I worked."

   "Are you quite sure that it wasn't just someone who looked like Mel
Zigler?"

   "It was Mel Zigler!" I replied.  "I knew Mr.  Zigler well over a period
of more than a year when I was illegally enslaved at Masterson Automotive.
I knew him more intimately than I ever wished to know him.  I would know
that face and that voice anywhere!  I even recognized his cologne."

   "Who else did you see in that room?"

   "The two boys who had assaulted me on the street.  One was a tall
slender redhead, who I later heard addressed as 'Erin'.  The other, a boy I
later heard called 'Kim" was a shorter and stockier boy."

   "And what happened next?"

   I gave him a complete statement of how Zigler had electrically tortured
my sex, how he had tried to re-activate my implant, how he had then
suddenly left me in the custody of the two boys to attend to some urgent
business.  I reported that the boys had taken their own clothes off because
they planned to rape me.  I explained how I was able to take advantage of a
moment when they were flipping me over on the table to gain the upper hand,
even though handcuffed.

   "In your earlier comments, before I swore you in, you said the boys
wound up injured and handcuffed.  Go over that part again."

   "I used my kickboxing skills", I explained, "to subdue the boys until
one was unconscious and the other barely conscious.  Then I found the key
to unlock my own handcuffs and put cuffs on both the boys.  After that I
went upstairs, found my clothes and purse, made my escape out of the
building, and hailed a cab."

   There was a very long pause and I wondered if the officer was finding my
story too fantastic to be believable.  Finally he spoke.

   "You are one tough lady.  And you caught some lucky breaks.  My hat's
off to you.  Do you know where this place was where you were held?" the
officer wanted to know.

   "Yes.  As I fled out into the street and hailed a cab, I made a point of
writing down the street address."

   I gave the officer the exact address in lower Manhattan.

   "Very well, Miss Glenn.  I think we have enough to get a search warrant
for that place, an arrest warrant for Zigler, and we will get further
particulars from him that will help us find and arrest the boys."

   "Thank you, Sergeant Withers", I replied.

   "I must advise you that if you intend to pursue a rape complaint against
the boys, you will need to go immediately to a nearby hospital and have a
rape kit done to preserve evidence."

   "I think there will be charges enough without the rape charge", I
replied.  "And I am exhausted."

   "I can believe that Miss Glenn.  In the morning, when you are more
rested, we would like you to come down to the station.  We will require a
fuller statement.  And we will have a typed copy of the testimony you just
gave me which we will need you to sign."

   With that the police interview ended.

   Bill offered to sleep on the couch that night while I enjoyed the
comforts of his bedroom.  I learned, at a later time in our relationship,
just how much he had wanted to fuck me that night.

   In the morning we both got up early and Bill took me to a 24-hour
emergency medical clinic near his apartment.  I didn't feel there was
anything wrong with me other than a few bruises and scratches that would
heal on their own.  But Bill was insistent that I get checked out.

   At the clinic they wanted my most recent blood tests from my last
physical.

   "Miss Glenn", the clerk inquired, "are your medical records stored with
one of the major medical storage services?"

   "Yes", I replied, naming the service.

   "Then if you will just step into one of those computer cubicles over on
the left wall, you can insert your medical access card into a terminal, key
in your password and download the blood work to our system, along with any
other medical records you think might help us today."

   As it turned out I had only minor bruises and cuts but it was good to
have that belief confirmed.  As I was leaving the clinic the clerk handed
me a slip of paper with a case number written on it.

   "Miss Glenn, if you wish you may go back into one of those cubicles and
key in this case number, and the results of your visit today will be
uploaded to your master medical record."

   "That sounds like a good idea", I replied.

   After that we went to the police station.  Two detectives interviewed me
at some length.  We were advised the scene had been dusted for prints and
samples of DNA evidence had been taken.  The police had been able to match
the prints of the two boys against a database they had of juvenile
offenders.  They had picked up the boys and had me identify them in a
lineup.  They would be held in a pre-trial detention facility at least
until they could be arraigned.  A warrant had been issued for Zigler's
arrest, but he had not been found at his home and his present whereabouts
were unknown.  The police said they would let us know as soon as the
prosecutor decided how to proceed with this case.

   A few days later we learned the public prosecutor had decided not to
pursue this assault on me.  He had said the evidence was just too
circumstantial and it would be a case of "he said, she said".  So the boys
were turned loose and the warrant for Zigler was dropped.  I was not
completely surprised at this turn of events since Zigler had boasted to me
of his friendship with this prosecutor.

   We still had to wait out the rest of the month for the prosecutor's
decision on the charges I had requested against Masterson employees for my
earlier enslavement.  Finally we were informed he would not pursue that
case either.  The prosecutor's friendship with Zigler was surely a conflict
of interest that the prosecutor should have disclosed by law and the
ethical standards for lawyers.  Fortunately the option of a private
criminal prosecution was still open to me.

   My attorney filed the necessary papers with the Court to begin my quest
for justice.  A week later there was an ex parte hearing to establish our
standing to prosecute on both cases and whether there was probable cause
for the court to issue arrest warrants.  For the wrongful enslavement case
my attorney had to show that I was the principal party who had been damaged
by the alleged criminal conduct.  Then there had to be a prima facie
showing of fraud committed by the defendants.  This was established first
by Bill Steelforth's testimony under oath as to what he had discovered
about the forged documents and the dummy corporation.  For the kidnapping
case we were fortunate that the police had done their work and we
supplemented that by bringing sworn depositions from all three of the
slaves from the convenience store as to what they had witnessed of the
street assault.  We were soon green lighted to proceed with our twin
prosecutions.

   A charge of "willfully taking the freedom of an innocent citizen" was
filed against Jenkins and Duncan, the two men I hated most in this world.
On the more serious of these charges I would be entitled to lifetime
enslavement of these two men if we proved my case, or even possibly death
penalties.  There was also a lesser charge of "depraved indifference"
against both men.  We were entitled, under private prosecutor status, to
have arrest warrants issued and to have the county sheriff arrest Jenkins
and Duncan and bring them to Court.  At this point we did not yet know of
Zigler's full involvement in my enslavement though we suspected it.

   Charges for the more recent kidnapping, however, were filed against
Zigler and the boys and they too were arrested and brought to court for
their arraignments.

   These arrests came as a complete surprise to all of the defendants
since, by using the 'ex parte' hearing, we had not been required to give
them any notice before that time that we were bringing private criminal
prosecutions.  This feature of the law was to avoid the danger that people
facing criminal prosecution might flee the jurisdiction.  The defendants
had all thought they were home free when the public prosecutor declined to
prosecute.  The defendants all pled innocent and were released on their own
recognizance.

   Bill advised me that there had to be a fourth person responsible for the
miserable way that I had been treated as a slave at Masterson Automotive
when I was legally only an indentured servant.  That would be the person
from the slave advocate agency responsible for monitoring conditions of
servitude at Masterson Automotive.  By subpoena of Masterson records we
learned that this person was a Cheryl Clifford, federally licensed as a
slave advocate.  Obviously she had not done her job.  In fact I had never
seen her or heard of her during my time at Masterson.  This was, at the
very least, gross neglect of duty.

   We needed more evidence if we were to file charges of wrongful
enslavement against Zigler.  The most likely source of such evidence would
be testimony by Duncan and Jenkins.  I was present with my attorney when
they were brought in for questioning in his office pursuant to a subpoena.
A Mr.  Stafford represented them both.

   "Mr.  Duncan", my attorney began, "we wish to know if the actions you
took to enslave Ms.  Glenn were taken on your own initiative, or were you
following orders from one of your superiors."

   "We do not admit", Stafford replied, "that either of my clients took
actions designed to enslave Ms.  Glenn.  In order to implicate someone
higher up they would have to first admit that they did something illegal
themselves.  My clients both stand on their Fifth Amendment right not to
incriminate themselves."

   It was true, of course, that they could not be forced to testify against
themselves under the Fifth Amendment to the Capitallian Constitution, which
largely paralleled the Fifth Amendment under laws of the old USA.  To get
them to waive their privilege we had to engage in a bit of bargaining.

   "You have informed your clients, no doubt, that "willfully and unjustly
taking the freedom of a citizen" is a capital offense?"

   "They have been so informed", Stafford replied.

   "Suppose then, just hypothetically, we were to take the death penalty
off the table?  Would that motivate your clients to cooperate in this
investigation and to make certain other concessions?"

   "If we agree not to seek the death penalty, we would want your clients
to agree that, in the event they are convicted, that they would waive any
objection to swift preliminary punishment while their appeals are pending."

   "What is this 'preliminary' punishment?" Jenkins wanted to know.

   "It is not that big a deal.  It is just to make an example of you by
administering an embarrassing bare assed spanking in front of a crowd in
Central Park", his lawyer responded.

   "I don't like the sound of that!" Jenkins responded.

   "For God's sake, man!  Even with the death penalty off the table you are
looking at possibly being enslaved for up to 20 years.  The preliminary
punishment is the least of your worries.  If a little embarrassment gets
the death penalty off the table and still lets you appeal the conviction,
then I would strongly recommend you take the deal!" Stafford rebuked.

   Upon questioning the two Masterson employees revealed under deposition
before a court reporter that Mel Zigler had also been involved, and had
full knowledge of the forged documents used against me.  In fact he had
ordered Duncan to work with Jenkins to create the forged documents and also
to begin the legal enslavement action in order to placate Tom Jenkins and
retain his loyalty to the company.  A deposition was obtained from Duncan
against Cheryl Clifford as part of the same plea bargain.  We added the
necessary charges of "willfully taking the freedom of an innocent citizen"
as well as "depraved indifference" against Zigler and against Miss
Clifford.

   We entered into separate negotiations with Cheryl Clifford's attorney.
We wanted her testimony against Zigler as well.  She was clearly very
frightened and readily agreed to testify and to waive any objection to
preliminary punishment if only we would take the death penalty off the
table.

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

   Finally the day for trial came.  I was excited.  I had learned that if
these four defendants were convicted of even the lesser offense, that
enslavement to me would be their most likely punishment.  While I told
myself that I had no particular desire to own them personally on a
long-term basis, I knew that I might have some fun at their expense and
then have them sold at public auction and realize the proceeds of the sale.
I also knew that I would have my vindication since these three men and the
woman would find loss of their freedom extremely distressing as well as
humiliating.  The case had received quite a bit of publicity, so the
courtroom was full of spectators, much to the chagrin of the defendants.

   Judge Morelock was again presiding.  Mr.  Green laid out my wrongful
enslavement case, chiefly that the men had forged documents purporting to
show my debts in excess of $10,000.  They had also set up a dummy
corporation, owned by the three of them jointly, to which these debts were
supposedly owed.  A handwriting expert testified that the forged documents
were in the handwriting of Jenkins.  The dummy corporation appeared to have
no other purpose than to generate phony debts against me.  Masterson
records were produced to show that Miss Clifford had hardly ever visited
the facility and never conducted any inspections or interviewed any slaves.
Duncan testified under oath that Zigler had heavily bribed her to 'look the
other way' concerning any abuses she might hear of.

   The defense was pathetic.  They claimed they had no knowledge of what
they were doing at the time.  Jenkins said he wrote my signature on some
loan notes because Duncan told him to do so.  Duncan said he submitted all
these documents to an attorney to prosecute me because he relied on the
information given to him by Jenkins.  And because he had been ordered to do
so by Zigler.  Zigler claimed he had only told Duncan to do what he could
to keep Jenkins happy, but had never told him to do anything illegal.  Miss
Clifford said she was new to her job and had been assigned too many
workplaces to monitor and that "nice Mr.  Zigler had agreed to lighten my
load" by assigning a Masterson employee to do the required inspections and
interviews.  All she had to do was sign the inspection and interview
reports.

   The jury took less than an hour to find Zigler, Jenkins and Duncan
guilty of the more serious charge of "willfully taking the freedom of an
innocent citizen" and found Cheryl Clifford guilty of the lesser charge of
"depraved indifference".  The Court later noted in its opinion that there
was neither a federal law nor a New York state law forbidding an employer
from compelling a slave to bear a child, but that there were existing laws
prohibiting an indentured woman from being so compelled.

   The kidnapping case was handled as a separate trial before a different
jury.  We brought in the three slaves from the convenience store to testify
in person and be cross examined as to what they had seen of the street
assault and kidnapping.  The boys had agreed to testify against Zigler in
this case when we agreed to take off the table lifetime enslavement, the
most serious penalty that would have been possible for them.  As we had
done with Duncan and Jenkins we also made it a condition of the bargain
with the boys that, if convicted, they would waive, through their
attorneys, any legal objection to the swift imposition of preliminary
punishment while pursuing any possible appeals.  The jury quickly brought
in a verdict of guilty against these three defendants.

   A separate session of the court was held the next day to hear the
judge's instructions concerning sentencing for both cases.  Bill escorted
me to court that day and I was glad of his company and his support
throughout this trial and its aftermath.  He explained to me that
Capitallian courts, under most state laws, treated the victims of crime far
differently than did courts of the old USA where a crime victim had no say
in anything and was, at most, only a witness.  This had already become
clear in that I, as a crime victim, had been allowed to bring a private
prosecution against my tormentors.  It was to become even clearer as I
learned the extent of my role in the sentencing process.  All six
defendants had been brought in for this.  The courtroom was packed with
spectators as the case had been well publicized.  The judge addressed me.

   "Under the criminal laws of New York State a crime victim who wins a
private criminal conviction is entitled to determine the sentence to be
imposed - limited of course to penalties which have been authorized by
statute for the severity of crime committed.  The three adult male
defendants and the two boys have all been convicted on charges that could
carry the death penalty, though you have already, during plea bargaining,
taken that penalty off the table for all but Mr.  Zigler.

   "Miss Cheryl Clifford has been convicted on a lesser charge that could
carry a maximum penalty of ten years enslavement.  My clerk will give you
the statutory guidelines on exactly what punishments you may impose."

   I looked at Bill.  I could hardly believe the power that had suddenly
been conferred upon me.  I was starting to feel a bit giddy and was glad
that Bill was by my side and was squeezing my hand.

   "You should also know, Miss Glenn", the judge continued, "that our
statutes also prescribe some very specific public punishments for persons
convicted of these crimes.  The rationale for the public punishments is not
only to punish but also to punish in a way that will serve as a deterrent
to others from committing similar crimes in the future.  These punishments
then are mandatory and do not depend on any decision left to your
discretion."

   The judge then turned to Mel Zigler and ordered him to rise and face me.

   "Mr.  Zigler", the judge intoned, "since you have not waived any of your
rights the Court may not, at this time, order any preliminary public
punishment for you pending the outcome of any appeal you and your attorney
may elect to pursue.  You are technically still a free man subject to
continuation of your bond.  I am ordering that the Court Officer affix an
electronic tether to your person.  Should you fail to appear for any
further proceedings I will order you be held without bond."

   We waited a few moments while the tether was affixed to Zigler's ankle
and he was allowed to leave the courtroom.

   Just then the attorney for Cheryl Clifford was on his feet seeking
recognition from the judge.

   "If it please the Court, my client, Miss Clifford, is a single mother
with two small children, ages 4 and 7.  Pursuant to the Family Impact Law,
I would move that she be released at this time on her own recognizance,
until her next court date, so that she may attend to her children."

   "We have no objection, your Honor", my attorney offered, "so long as she
is also fitted with an electronic tether".

   "So ordered", the judge responded, directing the bailiff to make the
necessary arrangements, and instructing Miss Clifford on when she must
present herself to a Court officer for the preliminary punishment.  "If
there are no more Family Impact motions I think we may proceed to the next
order of business".

   The judge then turned to the remaining four defendants and ordered them
to rise and face me.

   "It is the Order of this Court that, pending final imposition of your
sentences by Miss Glenn, that the four of you are, for now, property of the
State of New York.  As such you will now be stripped, here in this
courtroom, of your clothing, any possessions on or about your persons and
your freedom.  If you undress quickly there will be no need for the
bailiffs to forcibly strip you.  Each of you is asked to place your
valuables, including wrist watches and jewelry, in an envelope to be
provided by the bailiffs.  Then you are to neatly fold each item of
clothing as you remove it and place it in a basket with your name on it
that the bailiff will provide.  You will not need clothing again for quite
some time."

   Bill was watching me for my reaction.  I felt my breathing deepen and my
pulse rate speed up.  The bailiff placed a basket and an envelope on the
defense table in front of each of the defendants.  Each defendant removed
his or her shoes and socks and placed them in the basket.  Coats and
jackets were next.  The men emptied their pockets and removed their
wristwatches and placed these items in their envelopes.  The women removed
their earrings and other jewelry and put these along with the contents of
their purses into the envelopes.  Shirts, blouses and bras came next.  The
women used their hands to cover their breasts, but the judge was having
none of that.  The men then removed their slacks and the women their
skirts.

   Many of the defendants thought the undressing would now be considered
complete.  But the bailiff indicated by a gesture that the men's briefs and
the ladies panties must also be removed.  Just then 16-year-old Erin
shouted to the judge.

   "No fucking way, you old pervert.  Nobody's making this lad show his
dick in public!"

   With that outburst the slender youth began to run at top speed for the
double doors at the back of the courtroom.  As he was clad now only in his
briefs, I could admire his long lean legs, his washboard abs and his well
tanned skin as he made his very athletic run for the doors.  I could not
help but notice there was an impressive bulge in his briefs and some stray
reddish colored pubic hairs escaped the leg openings on either side.  I
could see the look of fierce determination in his eyes as he ran.

   Two guards near the back doors intercepted him, struggled with him, got
his briefs off and frog marched him back to the defense table.  The judge
ordered that the youth was to receive a whiplash across his now bared
buttocks for his act of disobedience and this was done.  The boy cried out
with the pain and tears ran down his face.

   I watched, fascinated, as the other four people reluctantly removed
their last vestiges of modesty.  If any of them thought of rebelling they
had been disabused of that notion by what happened to Erin.  I had not seen
either Duncan or the Clifford woman without their clothing before.  Of
course I had seen Zigler and Jenkins and the two boys naked before because
they had all raped me.  But it was different seeing them naked in this very
public courtroom setting in front of all these spectators.  I was not
witnessing their sexual aggression under these circumstances.  I was
witnessing their shame.  I was looking at five very red faces and the chill
of this drafty courtroom was beginning to affect all of them.  They
shivered, attempted to conceal their private parts with their hands and
their eyes were all looking down at the floor and not at me.  The judge
addressed them.

   "The Court will have no cowering and no false modesty from the
prisoners. You are all instructed to stand up straight, keep your hands at
your sides, face your victim and make eye contact with her.  Remember that
she has the power to determine your futures, so it would be prudent of you
to show her every respect."

   I never thought I could enjoy another's suffering before, but I really
enjoyed seeing these three adults and two teenagers who had so wronged me,
stripped of their clothing and their dignity in that courtroom.

   "A week from today", the judge continued, "there will be a "Punishment
Fair" opening to the public in Central Park just off of Fifth Avenue.  This
display will have been well advertised to the public.  If past experience
is any guide we may anticipate tens of thousands of interested spectators.
The five of you will be the main entertainment for these crowds.  You will
suffer the punishment known as "virtual crucifixion".  You will be affixed
to vertical high tech metal crosses with magnetic restraints in such a
manner as will best display your nakedness to the throngs of people who
will come to see you.  Among them will be your friends and business
associates who will all have been contacted individually in advance.  You
will not die from this punishment, but you may wish you had.  It is not
only humiliating but it is a stress position and will exhaust you.  A
medical doctor will be in attendance and your cross will periodically be
tilted into a horizontal position to provide stress relief whenever you
faint or experience extreme difficulty in breathing."

   "For you, Miss Clifford, the punishment will be for one day from sunup
to sundown.  For the three adult males and the two boys the punishment will
last three days from sunup to sundown.  You will be allowed rest each
night."

   The judge then turned a severe face toward Tom Jenkins.

   "There is one more thing, unfortunately for you Mr.  Jenkins.  Because
your offense has been proved to be sexually motivated, the law requires me
to impose upon you the punishment of castration.  This will be done
publicly at the conclusion of your three day ordeal on the cross."

   Jenkins had suddenly turned white.  His attorney was suddenly on his
feet.  I was ecstatic with pleasure that I would finally receive this
exquisite vindication!

   "Your honor, we object!  We waived objection to preliminary punishment
earlier but this is hardly a preliminary punishment.  My client will never
be able to get his balls back in the event we are successful with his
appeal!"

   "Sit down counselor!  I have made my ruling.  You can file an emergency
stay if you wish.  Sometimes the appeals court will grant a preliminary
stay within 72 hours and you have a week."

   The judge then turned to me.

   "Miss Glenn, it would be the Court's suggestion that you observe these
public punishments first, before deciding on the long term punishment
sentences which are within your power.  It has been the Court's experience
that crime victims often experience a sense of having been vindicated, at
least partially, by the public punishments and are therefore inclined to be
more moderate in imposing the long term private punishments.  The Court
will ask you to take three more days after the public punishments are over
to consider your sentencing decisions.  Court is adjourned until that time.
When we reconvene I will review your sentencing decisions to make sure they
are within the range of statutory punishments permitted for these
offenses."

   The judge banged his gavel and rose and exited the courtroom.

   ________________________________________________________



   As Bill and I exited the courthouse he broached a new topic with me.  He
said Greg Masterson, owner of Masterson Automotive Group, would like a
private meeting with me.

   "Bill I don't think I am up for that!" I said.  "Mr.  Masterson may have
helped me in the end, but it was, after all, his company that did these
terrible things to me!  He may not have intended what happened to me, but
he surely was negligent in putting that guy Zigler in charge and spending
so much time in South America without following up on what Zigler was
doing!'

   "Greg has already told me how sorry he is for what happened to you,
Steph."

   "So now it is 'Greg' is it?  You are on a first name basis with this
guy?"

   "I had lunch with him - that is all." Bill responded.  "We reached a
certain level of comfort with each other over a meal and some drinks.  This
was about two months ago.  Since then I have spoken to him once or twice.
He called me yesterday to say he would like to meet you and apologize in
person and that perhaps he would have a business offer for you.  "

   "Bill - I can't be sure I wouldn't blow my top at him!"

   "Just meet him Steph, and hear him out.  If you don't like what he has
to say you aren't obligated in any way."

   "If you think it is for the best, I will go.  You have guided me well in
everything to do with this case, so I will trust your judgment Bill."

   "Let me try his cell.  Perhaps I can reach him now."

   With that Bill was dialing.

   "Hello Greg?  This is Bill Steelforth.  Fine.  I am with her now.  We
are just coming out of the courthouse.  Your office?  Tomorrow morning at
ten?"

   Bill looked at me for confirmation.  I nodded.

   "Fine.  Ten o'clock it is then."
   

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24.  Quid Pro Quo

   Bill picked me up at my apartment the morning after my court appearance
and soon his limo had brought us to Masterson's office building.  I had no
idea what was to be the subject of this unexpected meeting.  The elevator
whisked us up to the 82nd floor and we stepped into a very tasteful
reception area with original oil paintings on the walls.

   A conservatively dressed receptionist was evidently expecting us.  She
informed us in a refined British accent that it would be just a few minutes
until Mr.  Masterson finished his long distance call and inquired if we
would like coffees.  While we sipped them I noticed a finely detailed
statue of a nude ballerina executing a graceful leap.  I thought at once of
my dancer friend Jennifer Maisten who, as far as I knew, was still a slave
at Masterson Automotive.  I thought also of my friend Rebecca Sanchez who
was indentured at his company and, like myself, had been treated like a
slave.  Suddenly I was startled from my daydreaming.

   "Stephanie Glenn?" I looked up to see a tall and very energetic looking
man smiling in my direction.  "Greg Masterson.  I am so glad to meet you at
last!  I am glad you and Bill could join me today."

   He led us into his inner sanctum and we were comfortably seated.

   "You are, to say the least, an intriguing lady, Miss Glenn.  About two
months ago I offered to release you from your indenture to my company on
condition you not pursue criminal charges against my employees.  You turned
me down and won your freedom anyway.  You have fire and spirit young lady!
I admire that!"

   "You take no credit for your own role in that sir" I responded.  "Bill
has informed me that I not so much won my freedom in court as I received it
as a surprise gift from you sir!  Is it true that you gave the order to
drop your company's legal opposition to my bid for freedom?"

   "It is true I gave that order.  But freedom would have been yours in any
case.  It was just a matter of time.  Your cause was just and I saw no
point protracting the litigation.  If life has taught me anything it is to
bow out gracefully when a graceful exit is still possible."

   "We are somewhat puzzled as to the purpose of this meeting" Bill
interjected.

   "I am getting around to that" the man behind the hand carved walnut desk
responded.  "I noticed in yesterday's news that three of my top former
employees were convicted of felonies that could put them away for life. 
While I am sure you will understand that I have mixed feelings about that,
I must nevertheless congratulate you, Miss Glenn, on your courage and
tenacity in pursuing what you thought was a just cause of action."

   "Do you not think these men got what they deserved?" I asked.  Bill was
gripping my arm trying to get me to cool it.  No doubt he thought it best
not to aggravate the old man who must be suffering enough already.

   "Certainly I do" Masterson replied, "though it makes me uncomfortable to
think that I hired Zigler and put him in charge.  That reflects on my
judgment and it will be a long time before I can forgive myself for that
one.  Duncan I barely knew.  He was someone Zigler hired in my absence."

   "But I also had hired Tom Jenkins over 20 years ago when I was just
starting my business.  He had been with me a long time and knows my
business inside out.  I am sad to see him come to such an end.  I never
knew about his sexual problem until it came out in this court case.  I want
to get back to Jenkins a bit later but first I have something else I want
to present to you."

   I watched the old man get up from his desk and pace over near the window
that commanded a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline.

   "I have studied the records of your service with my company Miss Glenn.
I reviewed the work you did under Tom Jenkins when you were a free employee
and also the work you did on the apprenticeship project when you were with
us as a slave.  The quality of your work was outstanding!  I am going to
propose something to you and I fear your first reaction will be to say no.
But I urge you to at least consider it for a day or two and then give me
your decision."

   "I want you back working for us again, Miss Glenn.  Only this time it
can be entirely on your terms.  I have already hired a new manager for the
accounting department to replace Tom Jenkins and she is a woman I think you
would have no problem getting along with.  It may not be easy for you to
make the transition back into being a free employee and a citizen again. 
But I can make that transition easier for you.  I am offering you a job,
Miss Glenn, at a very handsome salary!"

   The old man went back behind his desk and waited for my reaction.

   "Mr.  Masterson, I don't think " I started to say.

   "Please call me Greg."

   "Well Greg, I do appreciate your kind offer, but I could never feel
comfortable going back to work in that place again after the humiliations I
suffered there!"

   I struggled not to cry as I said this.  Bill put his arm on my shoulder
to steady me.

   "I am truly sorry for those humiliations, Stephanie.  I never authorized
practices such as you experienced.  You came to my company as an indentured
servant and I am afraid my people treated you as they would treat a penal
slave.  For that I deeply apologize.  I am offering you the job, however,
not as an apology for what you suffered, but as recognition of the fine
abilities you demonstrated.  Please at least consider it."

   "My answer must be no, Mr.  Masterson."

   "Very well.  I was afraid that might be your response.  In that case I
will try to help you get re-established in another way."

   With that he wrote some lines on a piece of paper and tore it off the
pad and handed it to me.

   "This is the name of my accountant.  He owns a large auditing firm on
the other side of town.  I discussed your situation with him at lunch
yesterday.  He said he could use a bright ambitious young accountant like
you.  Please call his cell number on the slip and let him know that we
spoke.  I am sure he would like to interview you for a possible position
with his firm."

   I was having difficulty believing my good fortune.  I was already going
to be in a good financial position after I realized the proceeds from
selling off Zigler, Duncan, Jenkins, Cheryl Clifford and the two boys.  But
getting re-established in my profession as an accountant and getting my
career back on track had seemed to me quite a challenge.  Now Masterson was
dropping the solution right into my lap!  Why had he extended himself so
far to help me?

   "Is there any quid pro quo for all this help, Greg?" Bill interjected,
anticipating my own question.

   "Not really.  But there is something I would like to propose to Miss
Glenn which would help me very much if she would consider it."

   "Stephanie, if I may call you that, I want you to understand that I had
fired Zigler and Duncan two months ago when Bill told me what they had done
in my absence.  But I also want you to understand that the situation with
regard to Tom Jenkins is a bit more complicated.  You see, he was my first
employee ever when I started Masterson Automotive.  He helped me get the
company off the ground.  He was a man of exceptional business ability.  Of
course I knew nothing over the years about his sexual problem - his need to
sexually dominate and even rape women - which was what drove him to do what
he did to you.  I cannot condone what he did to you.  In fact I would even
agree that he deserves to be enslaved for a long time for what he did to
you."

   "So what are you asking of me?" I was quite confused about where he was
going with all this.

   "My problem is that I still need this man to help me run this business.
He knows the ins and outs of every department and division of this vast
international enterprise.  He knows so many things that I feel helpless
without him.  I think there might be a way for him to receive the
punishment he deserves and yet let me still have the benefit of his
services.  What I am asking of you, Stephanie, is that when he becomes your
property, that you consider selling him to me.  The price I would pay to
own that man would be much higher than you could obtain by selling him at
an open public auction.  He would then work here at my company as a
management consultant, not as a department head, and he would work here as
a slave."

   "I think that such a life would be too good for that bastard!" I cried
out.

   "But Steph", Bill interjected, "when you specify his punitive sentence
that will become part of the court record and will be binding on Greg, or
any future owner, as well.  So what is the problem?  If you order that he
be whipped once a week for the next 20 years then Masterson Automotive will
be under legal obligation to see that is done even though you no longer own
him."

   I realized that Bill was talking sense but I wasn't emotionally ready
for this yet.  I had just gained control of this villain and was feeling a
desire to keep him under my own power - at least for now.

   "Mr.  Masterson, I will agree to think about what you have proposed," I
said.  "I will give you my answer next week after I have had the pleasure
of seeing him and the others publicly humiliated."

   "Ah, Miss Glenn, that brings up another, well, rather sensitive issue. I
hope I may speak plainly.  The Court has, as you know, sentenced Tom
Jenkins to be castrated at the end of the third day of his preliminary
public punishment.  If that happens I am not sure he would be of any
further value to me.  I know Tom.  I know that would destroy his will to
live and he would no longer be motivated to help me run my business."

   "But I don't see that I have anything to say about this.  The judge said
this punishment was mandated by law and not part of the punishment that I
control."

   "That is not entirely true, Miss Glenn.  You could instruct your lawyer
to petition the Court to spare Mr.  Jenkins this punishment.  You could ask
it, not on grounds of mercy, but as a plea to preserve his resale value. 
You could inform the Court that you have had a very generous offer for Mr.
Jenkins that is only valid if his testicles are intact.  Since you are the
sole victim of record, such a petition from you would carry much weight and
perhaps cause the judge to reconsider."

   "But if I agree to do what I can to spare Jenkins this sexual form of
punishment, how do I know he won't be driven to commit other sexual crimes
against other women?"

   "You would be right to think that he should be sexually punished for
what he did, but I think we could come up with an alternative that would
satisfy you."

   "Please explain." I was becoming intrigued and also somewhat giddy about
my own power to dispose of Jenkins future.

   "I have had a talk with Paul Gregory, our company psychologist"
Masterson continued.

   "Yes, I know the man and trust him very much" I replied.

   "Paul is also one of my earliest hires and has known Tom since the first
year I was in business.  Paul thinks if Tom was here as a slave we could
design a compulsory sex treatment program that would straighten him out so
that he could have normal relationships with women!"

   "Wouldn't that be sort of like rewarding him for what he did to me?" I
asked.

   "I would hardly call it that.  Tom isn't going to like the treatment
program one bit.  It would be very punitive and very coercive I can assure
you.  Tom would be strapped down to a table much of the time during the
early stages with sensitive instruments hooked up to his penis to measure
his sexual response to a whole range of stimuli.  Paul tells me that if we
can measure his sexual responses we can begin to control them.  Tom will
also be made to endure sexual experiences with other people he will not
enjoy.  Perhaps I shouldn't get too graphic - I don't want to offend your
sensibilities Miss Glenn."

   "You needn't worry about being too graphic", I responded.  "I can handle
whatever you want to tell me.  Is there anything else I should know about
this treatment program?"

   "Well, Paul did mention he wants to use a sex surrogate in Tom's
treatment."

   "You mean a prostitute?" I exclaimed, astonished.

   "Not exactly.  He has in mind a young schoolteacher, a Sherri Wilson,
who has recently completed her certification as a sex surrogate to work
under the supervision of licensed sex therapists.  Paul is certified as a
sex therapist.

   I was certainly intrigued now, but even less inclined to give up my
ownership of Jenkins.

   "You have caught my interest, Mr.  Masterson.  You needn't worry about
being too graphic.  I may consider your proposal - but I would want it to
be on the basis that I lease Mr.  Jenkins to your company rather than sell
him outright.  If we are going to do this sex therapy thing I want to stay
involved and be in a position to monitor his progress and make changes to
the treatment program if I feel the program is becoming too pleasant for
him."

   "Fair enough Miss Glenn.  I will have my attorneys draw up a lease
agreement for Tom for your review after you have witnessed his public
humiliation.  Will that be satisfactory?"

   "I can't promise I will sign it, but I will seriously consider it.  In
view of what we are probably going to do with Tom I will have my attorney,
Mr.  Green, draw up a petition to see if we can save his, um, well his
balls, dammit!"

   "I appreciate that Miss Glenn!"

   "Now there is another matter", he continued, "that I want to bring to
your attention.  When a slave is freed at the end of his or her service, or
by a court order as in your case, there is a financial obligation on the
part of the former master to pay for therapy for the former slave in case
of post-traumatic-stress-disorder or PTSD.  This is not always called for,
but in your case, since you were raped repeatedly during your indenture, it
would seem more likely than not that you might require such assistance.  I
do not mean to get personal with you, Ms.  Glenn, but this is a resource
that is available to you should you need it.  In addition to paying for
this service, I am also willing to provide you with names of agencies that
can provide such therapy."

   "Thanks for the heads up", I replied.  "I may look into this in due
course.  Now there is a favor I would like to request from you sir.  When I
was a slave I was a close friend with Jennifer Maisten, a dancer, and with
Rebecca Sanchez who supervises your clean room.  I care about these two
people.  Jennifer committed grand larceny and was enslaved for it for five
years.  I don't question the justice of her sentence nor do I ask that she
be freed.  But I do ask you to look into her situation and see if there is
any way she could receive more lenient treatment while she remains your
slave."

   "The situation with Rebecca is quite different", I continued. 
"Rebecca's only 'crime' is defaulting on a mortgage.  Normally this would
have resulted in at most an indenture, not full enslavement.  But because
of some strange clause in the mortgage they were able to enslave her for
five years.  I think they tricked her.  I would ask that you look into her
situation and see if you couldn't find it in your heart to convert her
enslavement to a simple indenture so that she would be bound to you only
during working hours and could be with her family again when off duty."

   "And what if, after looking into these two situations, I decide I don't
want to change the situations of these two friends of yours?"

   "Then I am afraid that I will not be able to lease Mr.  Jenkins to your
firm, or put him into a treatment program.  And, under these circumstances,
I would not be willing to save his testicles!"

   "You drive a hard bargain, Stephanie.  I like your chutzpah!"

   With that the meeting was concluded.





   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

   Note: If you are enjoying this story author would appreciate feedback to
dondaverse (at)

   yahoo (dot) com.
   

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Chapter 25.  Slave Trauma Vanquished*

   *The author wishes to thank Corsair for his input on PTSD

   After the meeting with Stephanie and Greg Masterson I called a taxi for
her and walked back to my now deserted office.  At my desk I began to think
of the therapy Masterson had said would be available to Stephanie at his
expense.  I wondered if she would act on the information.  Perhaps I could
do some research for her and find a suitable facility that would best suit
her nature.  While my motives were partly charitable, I also reasoned that
if she could get beyond the obvious traumatic stress caused by the rapes,
then perhaps the prospects for our relationship would be brighter.

   I picked up the phone and dialed Sherry Wilson.  Now that she was a sex
surrogate she worked with a number of sex therapists and perhaps she would
know somebody who could help Stephanie.  She gave me the name of an agency
that specialized in helping women who had been raped.

   The next morning I called the Henderson Trauma Management Center and
said that I was trying to find a suitable therapy provider for a very dear
friend.  Dr.  Henderson's secretary invited me to come over for an
interview and tour that very afternoon.

   The facility turned out to be an ivy-covered brownstone on the Upper
West Side.  I was shown into Dr.  Henderson's office where I received a
hearty greeting from the doctor.  After some initial pleasantries, and my
filling him in a bit about the nature of the trauma my friend had suffered,
he proceeded to explain the very heart of the PTSD treatment process he had
personally developed.

   "Mr.  Steelforth", he began, "there was research being done as far back
as the early 21st century that showed a connection between the intensity of
a memory and the presence or absence of adrenaline in the subject at the
time the memory was formed.  Those memories that have the greatest
destructive power years later were formed at a time of great stress when
the body's stress hormones were raging.  That caused the brain to store the
memory in a particular way and to cause the subject to recall the stress
emotions and again produce the stress hormones every time the memory was
recalled.  In that way the painful memory would be continually reinforced
and often grew worse with the passage of time."

   "It was also discovered", the doctor continued, "that there were certain
drugs such as propranolol, that could mediate the stress associated with
the memory.  All that was required was for the subject to recall the
painful memory while under the influence of the drug.  Memory of what
actually had happened in the past would not be impaired, but the emotional
feelings and stress reactions to that memory would be very much muted. 
This would cause the brain to resave the memory in a different way so that
it was less stressful the next time recalled.  A series of such treatments
could take all the sting out of a bad memory."

   "Could this help Stephanie?" I asked.

   "From what you have told me of her case I would think the prospects very
good.  Actually it is fortunate that you came to visit me today, as I have
a young couple undergoing rape therapy that is to start in just a few
minutes.  You can watch the therapy and judge for yourself if it might help
your friend."

   "But what about the privacy of the young woman and her husband?  Surely,
on such a sensitive issue as her rape experience, she wouldn't want a
stranger witnessing her therapy?"

   "That really isn't a problem since she and her husband have waived their
privacy rights.  They came to us without the means to pay for treatment,
yet they were facing the possible breakup of their marriage due to the PTSD
symptoms.  As you well know, there is no government provided social safety
net in Capitallia.  The young woman and her husband came to me seeking
charity care.  I have been known to provide my services on a charitable
basis from time to time.  But I also believe that fair value should be
exchanged when the recipient of treatment has something of value to offer
in exchange."

   "I couldn't agree with you more!" I replied.

   "In this case the young couple could offer me a rare opportunity to use
their sex therapy for research purposes and for the education of potential
paying clients such as yourself.  I agreed to treat her with her partner
without charge if they both would waive their privacy rights and allow us
to use her treatment and his for educational and research purposes.  By
contrast, if your friend comes to us, she would be a private pay and would
be entitled to every consideration for her privacy."

   "Well, in that case, I would very much like to see how one of these
treatments is done!"

   With that Dr.  Henderson picked up a file folder, opened it and handed
it to me.  Right away my eyes landed on two head and shoulder photos of the
young mixed race couple.  The woman was black and looked very familiar!  At
first I could not place where I knew her.  The male was white and I did not
recognize him.  My eyes traveled to the names on the main data sheet.  The
first line was for "Trauma patient", the name there was "Tanisha
Williamson", sex was listed as "female" and her occupation was listed as
"bank teller".  Now I made the connection.  I had been cashing checks at
the bank branch near my office for several years now and the teller I
usually preferred was this Tanisha!  The second line was for "Patient's
Spouse", the name there was "Leroy Williamson", sex was listed as "male"
and his occupation was listed as "pool maintenance man".

   "Dr.  Henderson", I began, "as much as I would like to see one of these
treatments, I think I must inform you that I know Tanisha in another
context.  I am not sure it would be right for me to invade her privacy. 
After all she would surely be embarrassed to wait on me at the bank knowing
I had been an observer of her sexual difficulties with her husband!"

   "Bill, if I may call you that", he responded, "you are worrying about
something that should not even be a problem.  Tanisha and her husband have,
after all, waived privacy as a way to pay for her treatments.  She
understands that there is very great educational value to allowing other
persons to witness her treatments.  You will be meeting her after watching
a couple of her sessions and she will know that you watched.  She will have
to accept that because it is the bargain she made with our clinic.  A
bargain is a bargain after all!"

   "The only thing we would ask Bill", he continued, "is that since you
will be witnessing very intimate activities and you will know the real
identities of the patient and her husband, is that you not use that
knowledge outside the context of the therapy program.  What happens here
stays here!"

   "Agreed", I replied.

   He led the way down a corridor and ushered me into an observation room
overlooking a treatment area.  There was one-way glass, so that he and I
could see through to the well-lighted treatment studio, while our
observation room remained dark and not visible to persons on the other side
of the glass.  The floor of the observation area was also raised about two
feet higher than the floor of the studio.  In the treatment area there was
a couch, a coffee table, a wet bar, a double bed and a desk where a rather
professional looking woman in a business suit was doing some paperwork.

   "You see our therapist, Dawn Jacobs, at work preparing her notes for the
session.  In a moment you will meet Tanisha and Leroy Williams, our couple
in therapy.  If you look here in the monitor you can see video of Tanisha
being prepared for her session.  She will be receiving at a certain point
in her therapy an infusion of a drug I patented called Traumatholin.  This
drug is in the same class as propranolol that I was describing to you
earlier.

   In the monitor I saw the young woman I had known as Teller No.4 sitting
in a chair.  She was as attractive as I remembered her from the bank.  She
had just finished removing her blouse and was sitting in a chair wearing a
bra and her skirt.  My eye was drawn to the dark brown skin of her very
flat and well-muscled abdomen.  A technician was swabbing her slender left
arm with alcohol just above her elbow.  I saw her give a start and a small
grimace as the technician penetrated her arm with an IV fitting and secured
it in place.  Then a small vial of a drug was connected to the IV fitting
through some kind of valve and the vial and valve were also secured to her
arm.

   "This is all being done", the Doctor continued, "ahead of time so that
we can remotely administer the Traumatholin drug at the appropriate time
without having to interrupt the flow of therapy."

   "When they first came to us Tanisha admitted that she would freeze up
with anxiety or anger or both whenever she would sense any signs of sexual
arousal in Leroy.  He could not make a move toward intimacy without evoking
this response in her.  They had a satisfactory sex life together until one
day when Tanisha was assaulted and raped on her way home from the grocery
store.  That changed everything."

   Just then I hear a soft chime sound and a naked man entered the
treatment area and a moment later, through a different door, a now very
naked Tanisha entered the treatment area.  They both took seats on the
sofa. I noted that they were a very attractive mixed race couple, both very
slender, she with perky breasts and he quite well hung.

   "Can they see us or hear us?"

   "No, they are completely unaware of our presence today, though they were
told when they signed their contracts that there might be the occasional
observer of a therapy session - for educational reasons.

   "Why are they naked?" I asked.

   "Because", he replied, Tanisha needs to get a lot more comfortable with
her own body and with her partner's body.  When we first started working
with them she could not tolerate being naked or seeing Leroy naked.  Now
she has become much more comfortable with that, though there are still
occasional issues to work through."

   After a few minutes of small talk I saw therapist Dawn touch a button on
her desk.

   "That will trigger her injection of Traumatholin.  The drug will take a
few minutes to become effective, so Dawn will use that time for more small
talk to allow the couple to become more comfortable."

   We could hear all the banter as they told the therapist how their week
had gone.  I noticed that Leroy's rather long penis remained quite flaccid
against his thigh while Tanisha's nipples showed no sign of stiffening as
yet.

   "I have encouraged the two of you", the female therapist began,
addressing Tanisha and Leroy, "to gradually become accustomed to increasing
intimacy in the home setting.  Gradualism is necessary when you are not
here because Tanisha has not entirely overcome her PTSD yet and does not
have the benefit of the trauma drug when at home."

   "But here", the therapist continued, "because Tanisha does have the
trauma drug in her, we can take a bolder approach.  I want you, Leroy, to
begin to be just somewhat sexually aggressive with Tanisha.  Move closer to
her so that your legs and hips touch, reach out and caress her neck and
shoulders.  It is ok if you become visibly aroused as you touch her - in
fact I hope you will.  Tanisha, be conscious of his penis - reach out and
gently hold it with your fingers."

   I noted that Leroy's penis was now becoming partially erect.  Tanisha
noticed it too, but it seemed to please her rather than distress her.

   "You will have noticed", Dr.  Henderson confided to me, "that Tanisha is
not freezing up or experiencing any apparent distress as Leroy makes a move
on her and as he shows his excitement to her.  It took several weeks of
therapy sessions with injected Traumatholin to get her to this point.  In
the beginning she was quite different.  I have a video of their very first
session which you are welcome to watch if you have the time."

   "I might take you up on that!" I replied.

   "Now Leroy," the therapist continued, "It is time to take it to the next
level.  I think Tanisha is ready for that.  I want you to play with her
breasts, her nipples and her vulva."

   Leroy began to do as he was instructed.  As he did so Tanisha's nipples
became stiff and his penis became fully hard in Tanisha's hand.  His penis
was a beautiful thing to see when fully erect.  Now we could see the
beginnings of an anxiety reaction in Tanisha, she began to shake, all her
muscles were in play and her face draining of color.  His hand had not gone
anywhere near her vagina as yet.  Finally a tear rolled down her cheek.

   "Ok" the female therapist intervened, "that will be enough for today's
session.  Tanisha, I want you to verbalize for us just what you were
feeling as you sensed saw and felt your partner's excitement."

   "I was scared", Tanisha replied.  "His erection reminded me so much of
the erection of my attacker in that rape last summer."

   "Well you know Tanisha, that the feeling you just described will become
less intense every time you experience your partner's arousal.  At our next
session in two more days, I am confident we will be able to take it just a
bit further!  I want the two of you to continue to be naked together at
home as often as possible, but don't try any sexual experiments just yet.
For now the sexual experimentation should only be done when Tanisha has the
trauma drug.  I will see you back here Thursday."

   With that the couple left the room by their respective doors, and the
therapist was left at her desk to write up her notes on today's progress.

   "At the rate we are going", Dr.  Henderson remarked to me, "I think we
will have them fucking possibly in the next session or the one after that.
You are more than welcome to return to watch those sessions.  Not only
that, but I can arrange for you to have an in person meeting with the
couple where you can ask them questions about their satisfaction with the
treatment program."

   With that we walked back to his office.

   "If Stephanie does come to us for treatment she will need a partner to
learn to be comfortable with intimacy.  We can supply a male surrogate
partner for her, but perhaps she will want you to fill that role.  That is
something I am sure you two will want to discuss."

   Two days later I returned to the clinic eager to see the proof of the
pudding.  This time Leroy was able to progress with Tanisha to the point of
having actual intercourse with her.  From my vantage point and with the
excellent lighting, I missed no detail of their coupling.  Although I felt
like somewhat of a voyeur, I also knew that seeing the two of them fuck was
an important milestone in my believing in the clinic's program.  At the
conclusion of this therapy session Dr.  Henderson asked me if I would like
to meet and interview the couple.  Of course I nodded my assent.  He opened
a door I had not noticed before and led me right into the therapy studio
while a naked Tanisha and Leroy were still seated on the couch.  The
therapist excused herself and left the room.  Dr.  Henderson and I pulled
up two chairs and sat facing the couple across the coffee table.

   "Tanisha and Leroy" the doctor began, "I want the two of you to meet
Bill, an observer who watched Tuesday's session and today's session.  Bill
is considering whether our program would be suitable for treating the PTSD
symptoms of his female friend.  Bill was impressed with your progress
Tanisha and would like to ask you a few questions."

   "You watched us ...  today?" she asked, looking in my general direction,
but averting her eyes.  "We had no idea we were being watched."

   "What the fuck!" Leroy said in a very loud voice, tensing the muscles of
his upper back and neck as well as the muscles of his arms and legs.  He
looked about ready to pounce on me.

   "Leroy - chill!" Dr.  Henderson said firmly.  "You both knew you might
have an observer at some of your sessions when you signed your contract."

   Leroy was still tense, but obviously weighing his response.  After a few
uncertain moments we saw his muscles visibly relax.  At last he spoke in a
more conciliatory voice.

   "Yes we did agree to that.  I am sorry if I overreacted.  You might have
let us know, doctor, at the beginning of today's session that we were not
alone."

   "Ah, but then you would not have behaved spontaneously.  In all
likelihood you would not have achieved successful intercourse today."

   At that last comment Leroy looked beat and no longer wished to meet our
gaze.

   "In answer to your question, Tanisha", I replied, "I watched the two of
you today because I felt that it could help me decide whether to recommend
this program to my friend if I could see actual proof that a woman who had
suffered from rape trauma could be cured to the extent necessary to
actually allow ...  well ...  enthusiastic fucking, if I may put it that
way."

   "I think what Bill means is that he saw how you froze up in Tuesday's
session when Leroy got hard.  But today he saw you entering into
intercourse with abandon."

   "How do you know I entered into intercourse 'with abandon' today, as you
put it?" Tanisha interjected.

   "Forgive me Tanisha if I am being too blunt", the doctor replied, "but
Bill and I could see your nipples erect, the increased blood flow to your
breasts and inner thighs, and frankly quite a bit of your juices running
down your legs.  Also we could infer from the hardness of your partner's
penis as he withdrew that you must have been milking him pretty firmly with
your vaginal muscles!"

   "Oh!  Is there anything you people didn't see or notice?  Any detail
that escaped you?" she responded and looked away, embarrassed.

   Neither the doctor nor I responded to this outburst, as it was obviously
a rhetorical question.

   "Will Mr.  Steelforth be introduced to the Sergeant Major as well?"
Tanisha asked after a long delay and in a somewhat sulky voice.

   "That is a definite possibility that I will be discussing with him
shortly.  Bill may be returning for any or all of your remaining treatment
sessions if he chooses.  He is my guest here and every courtesy must be
shown him."

   With that we said goodbye to the young couple and as Doctor Henderson
walked with me down the long hallway he invited me to step back into his
office for another private conference.

   He signaled me to sit down across the desk from him and I could tell by
the look on his face that he had quite a bit more that he needed to say
about therapy for Stephanie.

   "Bill, you have seen on your previous visit and again today how we
handle the specifically sexual trauma that women so often experience after
a rape.  Hopefully what you have seen and learned so far will be helpful
and will enable you to speak to Stephanie with some conviction about our
program."

   "I couldn't agree more!" I replied.

   "But there is so much more we need to talk about where your friend is
concerned.  Curing a woman of sexual frigidity is only one aspect of what
we do here."

   "By all means please explain", I said.  "I have the time if you do."

   "In Tanisha's case", he continued, "we are dealing with the trauma
caused by a single incident of violent stranger rape, though it was on the
street in circumstances where she also feared for her life.  Tanisha's
rapist was never caught and is at large.  Lack of closure is one of the
elements in Tanisha's PTSD, along with the brutally indifferent treatment
of rape victims.  Tanisha is mentally raped every day when men look her
way. Tanisha has had to unlearn the intense fear she experienced around the
sexual act and to learn to be capable of intimacy with a male again."

   "In Stephanie's case, on the other hand, we are dealing with the trauma
of multiple nonviolent rapes over the period of a year that she was held in
defacto slavery.  These rapes were qualitatively different because they
happened in an office building under an employer's control, because she was
not in fear for her life under these surroundings, and because the rapes
happened under color of law.  While Stephanie will have some of the same
issues Tanisha has, she will have some different issues as well."

   "What, for example?" I asked.

   "Stephanie will not only need to learn to be comfortable with sexual
intimacy again, she will also need to overcome feelings that she was
betrayed by the legal system and by her employer.  Right now I would
predict she has a deep-seated mistrust of all employers as well as all
males.  And she probably has a mistrust of YOU - not only because you are a
male seeking intimacy with her, but because of the role you played in
getting her enslaved in the first place!"

   "That sounds rather extreme to me", I replied.  "After all, I played a
central role in getting her freed from slavery and I am also showing her
how to use the legal system to prosecute criminally those who wronged her.
Stephanie and I have discussed these things and she seems to have a pretty
good handle on everything."

   "That is where we must distinguish heart from head, Bill.  It is one
thing to come to terms with one's traumatic experience at the level of pure
logic, and it is quite another thing to get the heart to accept what has
happened and be ready to move forward."

   "What do you suggest?"

   "I want to get her into group therapy.  I am starting a group next month
that will include four or five couples.  Tanisha and Leroy Williamson have
signed up for the group.  I would like to have you and Stephanie in the
group too.  This will be a nude encounter group - designed to foster social
intimacy and trust as well as assertiveness among all participants."

   "I don't know.  I've never done anything like that, and I don't know how
Stephanie would feel about that.  She was a very modest person before her
enslavement and I think the forced nudity she endured while a slave was
also very traumatic for her.  I wouldn't want to see her traumatized all
over again."

   "It wouldn't be that way Bill.  This is a situation where I would also
use our patented Traumatholin drug just prior to the nude group meetings so
that the experience of nudity can be re-learned and re-stored in a
non-traumatic part of her memory.  Also we would do re-enactments of past
trauma inducing experiences both with Stephanie and with Tanisha and with
each of the other women in the group in turn - while they are under the
influence of our trauma drug.  They will learn to re-experience all of
these dramas without the trauma and save them in a different area of the
brain's memory where the memories can be called up later when not under the
drug without triggering the trauma."

   "I will discuss it with Stephanie and she can decide if she is up to
your program."

   "There is more, Bill.  A woman who has been a slave for a year acquires
a certain kind of what I may call 'learned helplessness'.  Slaves learn to
submit, to obey.  They learn that they are helpless against their masters.
Ms.  Glenn learned that lesson well.  "

   "After the implants have been removed and the mental conditioning
commands cancelled," Dr.  Henderson explained, "there is still learned
helplessness to overcome.  Most ex-slaves still have that learned
helplessness brought on by decades of submissive behavior.  Stephanie Glenn
is still vulnerable to that--despite her commendable performances when she
was attacked and when she escaped her captors after being raped and
tortured.  And there is a stigma attached to ex-slaves, even those who were
manumitted after it was discovered that they had been wrongfully enslaved.
I call this stigma 'once a slave, always a slave.'"

   "So how would you treat this 'learned helplessness'?" I asked.

   "If Stephanie comes into our treatment program, I would want her to have
a very special course in self defense" he responded.  "That is what Tanisha
was alluding to when she asked me if you would also be seeing the Sergeant
Major."

   "What does she need self defense training for?" I asked.  "She did
better than expected when those two boys attacked her on the street in
front of her own apartment.  I have a brown belt in Karate and I don't
think I would have done any better against those two boys than Stephanie
did.  She knocked them both out.  Then she escaped that dungeon after
fighting both boys while Stephanie was naked and had her hands tied behind
her back.  There is nothing wrong with Stephanie's self-defense skills!"

   "Steelforth, I mean no insult, but people buy slaves as sexual
playthings because it is less work to fuck their slave than to woo a woman
and keep her interested in sex."

   "Easier still to go to a brothel," I replied.  "I'm not insulted."

   "Brothel sex has been compared to fast food," Dr.  Henderson said.

   "Your Stephanie", he continued, "has had the experience of being a
sexual plaything for a full year.  If you think about it, that has to
change a woman - how she thinks of herself, even the level of
self-confidence she projects in her posture, attitude and bearing as he
walks down a street."

   "A woman who was raped once", he continued, "is more likely to be raped
again than a woman who was never raped.

   "Rape used to be more common before legal prostitution," I commented. 
"Slavery and legal prostitution drove down the rape rates."

   "The low rape rate in Capitallia is due to many factors.  But my point
is that Stephanie Glenn is more at risk of being raped again because she is
a rape victim and because she was treated as a slave."

   "Criminal rapists", he continued, "read any lack of self-confidence in a
woman as a free lunch sign.  Were you aware that in nature predators attack
the very young, the very old, the weak, injured and sick prey animals.  A
sick white-tail deer cannot run as fast as a healthy one, so a wolf pack
will cut the sick doe out of the herd and run her down.  It is the same
with humans."

   "What would the self defense training consist of?" I inquired.

   "I contract out for that part of therapy to a school called the 'Cold
Cox Academy', owned and operated by Susan Coxwain", Dr.  Henderson told me.


   "I have heard that name before!" I exclaimed.  "That was the woman who
taught Stephanie the defense skills she used to resist the boys' attack
near her apartment."

   "Susan teaches hand to hand fighting to the New York State Police, to
the New Jersey State Police, and she even has a contract for the Vermont
State Police to train their special operations teams.  She gives military
combatives classes to commandos from six state militias.  The class she
gives to rape victims consists of ten modules of three hours each.  When
they come out of those 30 hours of instruction given over a period of three
to six weeks, they are confident almost to the point of arrogance.  Coxwain
calls it bringing out the inner tigress."

   "Does Stephanie really need 30 hours?  With the skills she has already
shown, wouldn't a shorter course suffice?"

   "Mr.  Steelforth, have you read Machiavelli's 'the Prince?' No?  Too
bad--the man knew human nature.  Machiavelli advised the prince to be both
lion and fox.  The lion was able to fight the dogs and the fox avoided
traps.  Susan Coxwain takes her students through a comprehensive course and
when they finish, they are as deadly as commandos.  She teaches the rape
victims to avoid danger.  Her students also project danger signals to
would-be predators.  Often she also gives this course to the spouse or
significant other of her rape victims.  You might do well to consider it
yourself."

   "I'll keep that decision for later.  But please go on with your
explanation", I replied.

   "Ms.  Coxwain's training program reduces the perception that the rape
victim is someone rapable," Dr.  Henderson explained.  "You've been exposed
to people who have presence, those who dominate a room.  Your livelihood is
enslaving people, and slaves learn to become invisible as well as
submissive.  Rape victims survived being forced to submit to rape.  Their
animal selves revert to behavior that helped them survive the last
rape--except that the behavior 'gave permission' to the rapist."

   "I never thought of it that way Doctor!"

   "Every rapist claims", he continued, "that the victim was 'asking for
it' and on a purely jungle animal level that is factual.  The victim didn't
want to be raped, but learned submissive behavior as a survival tactic. 
Slave training forces submissive behavior on a slave, and it takes years to
unlearn that even though the hypnotic commands have been cancelled and even
after bio digital implants have been removed.  Ms.  Coxwain teaches her
students to be wary and to walk with confidence.  Her graduates have
commandolevel fighting skills, so that isn't arrogant vanity."

   "How does Susan Coxwain do it?" I inquired.

   "She uses a combination of systems.  Feelie booths for mental
conditioning and to teach what it feels like to execute a complex sequence
of moves with perfect timing--"

   "Feelie booths!" I was insulted.  "Those are for pimply faced little
boys who aren't old enough to use prostitutes!"

   "Forgive my use of the slang term 'feelie booth'.  That is actually a
generic term that many people use to describe a whole range of machines
that give the user a physical experience as well as a visual and auditory
one.  Not all 'feelie booths' are in video game arcades or in sleazy sex
shops.  The proper term for what Sue uses with her students is 'virtual
fight training machine' or VFTM.  The Capitallian Defense Organization uses
these machines to train soldiers," Dr.  Henderson said.  Have you ever
heard that perfect practice makes for perfect performance?  The VFTM lets
you experience performing hand-to-hand combat moves perfectly and without
risk of injury."

   "You mentioned that she uses a combination of systems.  What else?"

   "Mr.  Steelforth, Sue teaches fighting skills that are designed to kill
or maim an attacker.  These skills cannot be realistically practiced by
students against their fellow students.  That is why, once a student
progresses beyond VFTM training, the student is matched with a Rape-Bot. 
That is a robot that is commercially designed to sexually attack the
student.  She gets a lot of seriously damaged robots at the end of each
class.

   Mr.  Steelforth, slavers are required to demonstrate slave control
techniques as part of their business license.  When was the last time you
needed to lay hands on a slave?"

   "It has been years," I admitted.  "Even then it was just to calm down a
panic-stricken slave.  Rebelliousness is conditioned right out of the slave
today.  The residual rebelliousness is deliberately left in only at the
owner's request, and a hypnotic command or using the slave's remote control
to the implants is a far better method of overcoming resistance."

   Since the combatives Ms.  Coxwain teaches are based on natural movements
and on gross motor skills, once you learn the system your daily activities
are like more practice, so you retain the fighting skills longer.  You
don't need to train as long as you did to earn your brown belt.  How long
did it take you to earn that belt?"

   "Nineteen months," I admitted.  "I could have tested for black belt, but
I didn't have the time.  It takes a commitment to earn a black belt."

   "So it would be unfair for me to invite you to spar with me?" Dr. 
Henderson said.  "I took Susan Coxwain's course for rape victims with my
wife two years ago, before I awarded her the contract to train rape victims
as part of their therapy.  I don't work out more than 90 minutes a
week--that is everything, my road work, weight machines, and a few drills
to keep my fighting skills sharp.  Once every 90 days I go to Susan
Coxwain's 'Cold Cox Academy' as a demonstrator.  Look at me--do I appear to
be dangerous?"

   "No," I replied.  "Not really."

   "We put on the protective sparring suits so that nobody gets hurt," Dr.
Henderson related.  "Then Ms.  Coxwain challenges the new class of special
police officers to a sparring match.  In seven demonstrations with an
average of three challenges, I have not been defeated.  I have been matched
against martial arts black belts in several disciplines.  The martial arts
taught in schools are about as realistic as shooting a round of skeet is to
gun fighting.  Don't be insulted, Mr.  Steelforth--skeet shooters have good
shooting skills.  After I best one or two of the police students, Ms. 
Coxwain issues an ultimatum.  We fight with no sparring suits."

   "Isn't that dangerous?" I asked.  .  "Someone could get hurt."

   After all, I thought, sparring suits had pads that protected joints,
hands, feet, head and neck.  There was even protection for female breasts,
male testicles and kidney and spine plates.  Sensors determined if the
student had received concussion or other injuries and informed the
instructor so that the match could be halted, so that immediate medical
treatment could be given

   "That's the problem with modern martial arts," Dr.  Henderson said. 
"You are trained to stop fighting the moment you get hurt.  Ms.  Coxwain
teaches you to stop fighting only after your enemy quits trying to hurt
you. The virtual fight training machine helps you develop your own mind
conditioning, your own triggers to ignore pain and fear.  In the VFTM you
learn a controlled rage, a controlled fury.  I have beaten a third degree
black belt in Ms.  Coxwain's class and he had won the New York State Police
karate championship three years running.  I actually knocked him out.  When
he came too, he accused me of sucker punching him.  He was right."

   "You cheated?" I asked.

   "It wasn't a karate bout," Dr.  Henderson said.  "It was a simulation of
two men fighting for their lives.  He attacked me with a sport that was
designed to prevent injuries in training and competition.  While he circled
me looking for an opening, I stood there relaxed and watching for him to
telegraph his attack.  When he rushed up from behind, I wasn't there when
his flying kick landed.  I moved.  Then I attacked him.  I took him
off-balance and I hit him hard enough to knock him out even though my hand
was padded and he was wearing protective pads."

   "I don't think the man was happy about that," I said.  "What did he do?"

   "He was complaining about it loudly while I answered Susan's challenge
by getting naked," Dr.  Henderson stated.  "There I was, standing quietly
in the center of the mat wearing my birthday suit while he was ranting.  I
missed most of his reaction because he wore his helmet, only removing his
mouth protector to talk.  Ms.  Coxwain explained that my martial arts
training consisted of boxing, fencing and wrestling in high school and
college --and a thirty-hour three-week course in combatives for rape
victims.  At the time it was a year after I had completed the training. 
The other guy didn't take off his sparring suit."

   "That is an impressive story Doctor!"

   "Nudity is a weapon if you use it", he continued.  "Stephanie Glenn
successfully used her nudity and apparent helplessness to get her abductors
to lower their guards, and that was after she had beaten two of them
senseless with her bare hands."

   "OK, you have certainly got my interest in this training program!  How
do we proceed?"

   "I would like you to visit Susan's training facility, talk with her,
watch some of her students go through their exercises and maybe let her put
you through an exercise or two yourself.  I should warn you her students
train in the nude for the most part and you will almost certainly be asked
to disrobe yourself."

   "Where is this place?"

   "It is actually a converted warehouse in a pretty rough area in the
South Bronx.  She needed a lot of low rent space for her school and that
was the best way.  She tells me the local toughs leave her students alone.
She thinks it is good experience for them to run the gauntlet, so to speak,
as they come and go from her classes.  Here is the address.  But I would
advise you not to take public transportation Bill."

   "I will go tomorrow!" I responded.

   With that we shook hands and I left his clinic anxious but also giddy
with anticipation.





   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

   Note: If you are enjoying this story author would appreciate feedback to
dondaverse (at)

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Chapter 26.  Cold Cox Academy*

   *The author wishes to thank Corsair for his contributions to the fight
scenes.

   The next day, just after lunch, I stopped in the bank branch near my
office and got on the short line to my favorite teller.  I had checks from
several customers to deposit and needed a cash withdrawal.  Tanisha looked
pretty and very professional as usual.  When she saw me standing at her
window I saw a distinct blush suffuse her face.

   "What can I do for you today Mr.  Steelforth?" she asked.

   While her greeting was not unfriendly, I thought she was making an
effort to stay more formal and businesslike than in the past and I noted
that she avoided making eye contact with me.

   "Just the usual, Tanisha", I said nonchalantly, as though nothing
unusual had happened between us the day before.

   I felt this was neither the time nor the place to get into any
discussion of yesterday's events.  I checked my receipt, counted my cash,
gave her a warm smile and left the bank.

   That evening I rode in the back of my car while my driver took me toward
the South Bronx address Dr.  Henderson had given me.  By now we were in the
blighted area.  My driver radioed ahead to let them know we would soon
arrive.  I saw fires in barrels and homeless hopeless men standing around,
bottles in hand.  As we approached the old warehouse that was the school I
could see that it was battle-scarred with boarded-up windows.  There was no
parking.  When the car approached the warehouse, a garage door opened. 
Standing in the doorway was a slender, barefoot, white-haired woman wearing
only a short sleeved white cotton robe that came down to mid thigh.  Any
momentary doubt I might have had about the physical fitness of a woman her
age was quickly put to rest by the lean muscularity of those arms and legs.
She was puffing on a cigar.  She waved for us to drive inside.  As soon as
my car got in, the door closed.  I indicated to my driver that he should
stay with the car while I got out to speak with the woman.

   "Are you William Steelforth?" I nodded.  She extended her hand.  "I'm
Sue Coxwain.

   I coughed when I got a whiff of her cigar.

   Doctor Henderson said that you are seeking treatment for a rape victim.
You have come to the right place.  My student's affectionate nickname for
this place is "School of Hard Cox".  May I have the name of your friend,
the rape victim?"

   "That's private," l protested.

   "If you want my help you'll have to trust.  I understand that trust
doesn't come easy to victims.  And when someone close to you gets raped,
you are a victim, too.  If you want to watch, I'm going to insist that you
do so in the raw like everybody else."

   "Besides", she continued, "you will have to be naked with many of these
same couples if you partner with your rape victim in the encounter group. I
am sure Dr.  Henderson must have explained that part to you" Sue pointed
out.

   I could feel the blood rushing to my face and hoped she did not sense my
embarrassment.  I started to object--but guilt stopped me.  Stephanie was
unable to sleep at night at least in part because of me.  She was unable to
trust men because the routine enslavement process my agency had
participated in resulted in her being wrongfully sentenced to a ten-year
indenture for debts that she didn't owe.

   "Tonight's session isn't being permanently recorded.  We just give out
clips to the trainees so that they can learn from their own mistakes.  You
won't appear on video at all.  The girls have to unlearn being helpless."

   "They train naked?" I asked.  "What good would that do?  People wear
clothes in public.  It's the law."

   "I'm glad you brought that up, Mr.  Steelforth."

   "Please call me Bill."

   "Then you'll call me Susan or Sergeant Major, but do NOT call me ma'am.
It is insulting!"

   "Yes, ma'--" I gulped nervously.  Somehow I knew that the little slip of
a woman was very dangerous.  "Yes, Susan."

   "I'm finished with this", she said putting out the cigar.

   "I smoke one to relax me," Sue glared at Bill.  "Good.  No lecture on
how bad bacca is for me.  I'm an old woman.  This and my boy toy Tomcat and
a good brandy are about the only hobbies I have.  I lived through the
Insurgency.  That's why I teach close combat to women and to couples who
have had one or both partners raped.  Aztlan insurgents were like wolves
among the sheep because the US government prohibited self-defense.  If an
underground group tried that today in New York City, those punks run a risk
of having their asses kicked by one of my students.  One of my students
made the news a while ago--have you heard of Stephanie Glenn?  According to
the news, she fought off one kidnap attempt and then escaped from a
dungeon. She was a student of mine.  I never forget a name or face."

   I stared at Susan in astonishment.

   "Ms.  Glenn is the rape victim Dr.  Henderson told you about," I said at
last.  "She was raped while a captive of Zigler and the boys, but more
importantly she was raped repeatedly while enslaved."

   "That changes things," Susan mulled it over.  "Are you coming inside? 
The students have had their twenty minutes of warm-up exercises.  The core
of my teaching method is that my students learn to fight and defeat my
Rape-Bots.  Perhaps Dr.  Henderson explained that part."

   "Yes, he did", I replied.

   "The reason I use sexual attack robots is because I want realism and I
want my students to release all inhibitions and fight to kill or maim their
attacker.  This is obviously not possible if I have students fighting other
students.  The robots, however, are typically set to one-quarter speed and
one-quarter power until I know the student can handle more."

   "Even so, are there not injuries when students fight robots?" I said.

   "Injuries are minimized by the students first learning to fight in the
virtual machines.  What sort of unarmed defense training do you have?"

   "The standard stuff given in high school and college," I replied.  "Plus
I've gotten instruction in controlling unruly slaves."

   "When was the last time you trained?" Sue asked.  "For that matter, when
did you work out last?"

   "Well, I've been busy," I said defensively.

   "What I teach here is very lethal," Sue said.  "I was part of a commando
unit.  It is simple to learn, simple to retain.  We learned to kill with
our bare hands.  For rape victims I don't water down the course.  I had to
follow New York Unified Police Forces guidelines for their defensive
training, but students like Miss Glenn prove that I'm the best.  Stephanie
obviously quit when she disabled her two attackers.  Police want living
suspects to arrest.  Commandos can't leave live enemies behind them.  If
you accept Doctor Henderson's treatment plan, your intensive hand-to-hand
combat training will make you far more dangerous to street punks than they
are to you."

   "Look, I'm no killer commando," I objected, "I'm not an athlete,
either."

   "The only thing that has to be in shape is your mind," Sue said.  When
you are threatened, you can trigger a response that will leave your
attackers dead, dead, dead.  You will be in control of that, but you can
turn on your inner tiger.  Few humans will be able to harm you when you
finish.  Now, do you want to come in or are you going to stand here in the
cold.

   I left my driver with the car and followed Susan in through the thick
door from the garage to the gym.  The first thing my eyes saw was
twenty-four students - six of them in well fitting but rather worn out
looking street clothes and the rest all quite naked.  Among the six clothed
ones at the far end of the gym I noted Tanisha and Leroy.

   "How come those six are clothed and everyone else is naked?" I asked.

   "Those six have dressed for combat with my Rape-Bots.  We try to make
these attack situations as realistic as possible by having the students
dress as they might be dressed on the street going to work or coming from
work.  We get this clothing as discards from thrift shops because the
clothing often will get torn to shreds!  I can assure you they don't always
get to keep their clothing since the Rape-Bots are programmed to strip them
if possible."

   Then my eyes were drawn to the six virtual fight training machines - all
in a row down the middle of the gym.  For the most part they were open
frames - each with multiple videocams and each defining an area about 8 ft
by 12 ft in size.  Sue led me to a row of lockers standing near the VFTMs.
There was no privacy in the gym.  Even the showers were visible through
clear plastic walls.  Sue's boytoy Tomcat was a slender 20something
indentured servant.  He looked almost feminine and at the moment he was
nude.  He was working on repairing a realistic Rape-Bot, an android
training device.

   "Bill, grab a locker and put your clothes inside," Susan said as she
removed her white terrycloth robe revealing she had nothing on underneath.
"Nudity is a weapon.  We train nude--mostly--because it gives us a tactical
advantage.  Do you know how many women fall apart when their skirt is
ripped from their bodies?  How many women will freeze up in terror when
their rapist flashes a penis at them?  As you can see some of the men and
women are dressed in various clothing like they'd wear on the street.  They
will be assaulted by the Rape-Bot and have their clothing ripped from them.
They will be expected to disable their attackers and get away.  The final
exercise will take place in a simulated bedroom."

   I was embarrassed to be undressing in front of all these students.  I
turned my back to the others as I undressed--it was too much to face the
others as I stripped to my skin.  Finally, I was naked.  Unfortunately I
had a partial erection.

   "Bill, don't let little things bother you.  Come with me," Sue said. 
"Class, this is Bill.  He's here to observe today's training.  Do not make
fun of him--focus on your objective."

   "Yes, Susan," the class replied.

   My face and ears were hot with embarrassment.  Just then, much to my
chagrin, I saw Leroy and Tanisha approaching.  To be naked in front of
these particular clothed people, after what I had witnessed yesterday, was
a rather intense experience.  My partial soft erection was turning into a
half hard erection as I stood there in front of my favorite bank teller.

   "Bill, wasn't it?" Leroy asked.  Bill nodded "How does it feel to have
the shoe on the other foot?  To be the naked one?"

   "Leroy," Sue warned.

   "Bill and I met before, at the Henderson clinic," Leroy said.  "Bill, I
mean no impertinence, but if you could make that erection fully hard and
maintain it hard for a while, I think it would be helpful for Tanisha's
therapy.  Could you humor us?"

   "Please," Tanisha pleaded.  "I have to learn that an erection is an
erection."

   So, for Tanisha's sake, and because I could hardly help myself anyway, I
stroked my penis into full erection and stood there for a couple of minutes
for Tanisha to take it all in.

   "Stand down, Mr.  Steelforth", I heard at last from Sue, and found
myself wilting.

   "You are a slaver, right?" I nodded in answer to Sue's question.  "You
use nudity to inflict learned helplessness on slaves.  Here I use nudity to
inoculate my students against crippling embarrassment

   "Bill, you want Stephanie to get this training," Sue continued.  "This
has a very serious purpose.  When she completes the training she will have
disarmed the nude bomb.  Neither her own nakedness nor the nakedness of an
attacker will render her helpless.  She won't be shocked into immobility
when a sexual predator flashes his naughty bits at her.  These people took
command of their sexuality and nudity is no weapon against them."

   We have six virtual fight training machines.  I am continuously taking
on new students.  I always have my newest batch experience fighting in the
VFTMs before I have them fight my Rape-Bots.  Even my more advanced
students refresh their skills in the VFTMs at some point each evening. 
Since I have 24 students and only 6 machines I use a rotation system."

   "Can I watch one of these 'virtual fights'?"

   "That is just what I want you to do next.  Let's go over and watch Vicki
fight."

   As we walked over I noted that it must be rotation time.  Six very
exhausted looking naked students, dripping with perspiration, were taking
off their virtual helmets and stepping out of the fighting areas defined by
the virtual frames.  Six other naked students, looking fresh and eager,
were donning these helmets.  We walked toward one of these students just
before she put her helmet on.  I stole a quick furtive glance downward to
satisfy myself that my penis had completely subsided.  Sue introduced me to
Vicki, a slender blonde athletic type.  I shook hands with her and wished
her a successful fight.  She smiled and excused herself to begin a sort of
warm up dance before starting the fight.

   "Before a student can experience a multi-sensory virtual fight", she
continued, "he or she must have had a series of hypnotized sessions during
the first week of the course in a simple audio-visual trainer.  Vicki has
had this hypnotic training so that she will be able to experience certain
physical sensations such as impact, loss of balance or pain when certain
subliminal coded visual cues are flashed on her retinas."

   "Vicki will find herself sparring with a virtual partner, but Vicki's
own movements will be real and involve the full and conscious use of her
own musculature.  Vicki will "see" the computer generated opponent through
the virtual vision capability of the helmet, "hear" this opponent through
the helmet, and actually experience blows from the opponent that she failed
to block or sidestep.  She will experience the blow both as a force that
she must counter-act with her own muscles to maintain balance, and also as
a zone of pain on her own body - though there is no actual injury.  This
computer controlled machine will train her to think fast and keep on
fighting through the pain until she can deliver a blow that ends any threat
posed by the virtual opponent."

   "But how will the machine know when or if she failed to evade or block a
blow?" I asked.

   "The machine's computer at all times knows", she responded, "the
position, attitude and motions of the student's body by integrating data
from multiple video cameras.  It compares this data with the data it also
has concerning the position, attitude and motions of the virtual opponent
it has generated for the student.  But perhaps the best way to understand
all this is to just watch."

   Vicki pushed the 'Start' button on one of the frame's side posts. 
Almost immediately we began to sense that there was an invisible ghost like
presence in the same fighting area with Vicki.  We could see her begin to
respond to this presence that only she could 'see'.  All the muscles of her
beautiful athletic body began to tense.  She assumed a fighting stance.  I
could feel my penis begin to get partially erect again and hoped that Sue
did not notice.  No such luck.  I could see Sue glance briefly downward at
my crotch and I thought for a moment that she was going to say something
but then she just smiled and encouraged me by a gesture to keep my focus on
the fight.

   Vicki began to dance around apparently trying to evade blows we could
not see and look for an opening to counter punch.  We saw her duck suddenly
and apparently avoid a blow that had been aimed at her head.  A moment
later we saw her spring back and to one side suddenly as though she had
taken a blow to her side.  At the same time we saw a facial grimace and
observed her struggle with the muscles in her long slender legs to maintain
her balance.  Soon we saw a red swelling appear on her left side just above
the left kidney.  She appeared not to notice it or allow it to slow her
down although it must have been painful.

   "Here", Sue offered, "Why don't you slip on these virtual goggles?"

   I did so and the picture was now complete.  I could see Vicki's computer
generated opponent quite clearly now.  He appeared male and I could also
hear him breathing and occasional utterances.  I could judge how effective
Vicki was in countering his blows and in finding an opening for counter
attack.  It was apparent that she was favoring one side of her torso now,
no doubt as a result of the painful blow she had sustained.  The virtual
opponent was trying to get in a second punch in the area already in pain,
but Vicki was too quick for him.  Sue whispered to me that the pain was
only in her student's mind and that there was no real injury in a virtual
fight.  Vicki got in one particularly devastating blow to her opponent
resulting in a loud bellow and a string of obscene words.  After that we
noticed her opponent appeared tired and with sluggish reflexes.  The fight
went on for some time until Vicki landed a knockout punch and the opponent
slumped to the floor and remained motionless.  Vicki remained standing and
we could see she was making a conscious effort to regulate her breathing.

   "Vicki is using", Sue explained, "a calming breathing technique to come
down off her adrenal rush.  This is critical.  There is a backlash effect
after combat, an anti-adrenalin effect that serves to bring the body back
to normal rapidly.  It can get out of hand and stop your heart, but the
breath control method teamed up with focus on something is an ancient
bio-feedback method that returns one from the hyper condition of fighting
back to a normal state without slowing the heart too rapidly.  Controlling
the breathing can drive the pulse rate up or down and also regulate blood
pressure."

   Once Vicki appeared to have returned to normal, Sue walked over and
wrapped her arm around the shoulders of her student and praised her for a
job well done.

   "You have seen a virtual fight, now let me show you a real one.  I
understand from Dr.  Henderson that you already know Tanisha Williamson."

   "Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her and her husband right after
their therapy session yesterday", I replied.

   "Tonight is Tanisha's graduation exercise in my program.  We have
created a sort of movie set that simulates a dark deserted street not
unlike that in which many women get raped.  Tanisha is going to re-enact a
situation similar to the one in which she was originally raped.  Only this
time she is going to react differently and have a different outcome."

   "Tanisha is a bank teller and is on her way home from work", Sue
explained.  "The bank requires professional attire from its tellers.  That
means a business suit with high heels, nylons, blouse, jacket and a tight
skirt for the women.  The bank doesn't want its employees, other than
security staff, armed inside the bank during business hours.  To be legal
the bank would have to provide its employees a way to check their weapons
upon arrival for work, but most banks don't want to be bothered with that.
It is technically against the law for an employer to demand that
non-citizen employees leave their weapons at home, but non-citizens usually
don't know the law.  Besides, they can be fired and there are two more to
take their place.  So employees like Tanisha find that they must commute to
and from work every day unarmed."

   Tanisha walked along the simulated street with confidence.  She had much
experience with the mild everyday petty harassment that is a woman's lot in
life.  She was carrying a bag of groceries she had just bought at the
market 2 blocks away.  I was seeing the situation through Tanisha's eyes,
but without her experience.  I was thankful that I had been born male!

   I noticed that the clothes Tanisha wore simulated smart business attire,
but on closer examination I could see the jacket and dress, though a good
fit, were threadbare, the hose had a run, and the high-heeled shoes had
seen better days.

   "I have my student's dress in clothing donated to my school by thrift
shops.  It saves a lot of money when clothing is constantly getting ripped
and destroyed in fights", Sue explained.

   Tanisha was skilled at walking in her high heels.  Even the bag of
groceries did not slow her down or cause her to lose the bounce in her
step. The tight fitting dress didn't handicap Tanisha to the same degree it
might have hobbled a woman not used to such attire.

   Soon she encountered a Rape-Bot that had been dressed like one of the
street thugs I had seen outside earlier.  It shambled towards her bottle in
one hand and the other was held out to her palm up.  I noticed a big
pinkish penis that reminded me of Leroy Williamson's erect member--it was
jutting out of the Rape-Bot's open fly.  I could sympathize with Tanisha's
aversion to cocks at the moment.  The Rape-Bot was operating at reduced
speed and power.  "Brother," the mechanical thug slurred, "can you spare
some change?"

   I saw that Tanisha did not miss one of the pre-assault indicators.  The
thug had glanced up and down the street to make sure he was alone with his
intended victim.

   "Watch Tanisha handle this situation", Sue whispered to me.

   When the Rape-Bot shambled towards Tanisha, she loudly shouted, "Get the
fuck away from me!" in such a loud voice I thought the windows might
shatter.

   "Vocalizations are important", Sue explained.  "Those vocalizations are
also the mental triggers.  Shouting at the intruder to get lost triggered a
killing rage in Tanisha that liberated all of her physical strength.  We
humans have limiting software, if you will; mental conditioning that
prevents us from hurting ourselves.  Have you heard of a mother lifting a
car off her child?"

   I nodded my head, unable to speak.

   "The last thing we do", Sue continued, "is a quick medical examination
because when this limiting software is overridden, you can literally rip
your muscles free."

   I saw that when Tanisha's verbalization failed to stop the Rape-Bot's
advance, she hurled the bag of groceries forcefully right at the thug's
face, and while he was momentarily ducking that she sent one of her high
heeled shoes flying like a projectile directly toward the thug's crotch,
stepped out of the other shoe and ripped the skirt off, wrapping it around
her arm.  This left her naked from the waist down but for her nylon
stockings.  The Rape-Bot hesitated, then tossed his bottle at her
forcefully as he charged.  Tanisha moved so fast that I had to watch the
video replay later to see what she did.  Tanisha ducked and side-kicked his
knee hard enough to buckle it.  She hit him several times with a palm
strike and the edge of her hand and an elbow strike, and then she grabbed
his arm and yanked it straight.  A loud crack was heard and a synthetic
roar of pain as the Rape-Bot's elbow dislocated.  Tanisha whipped the torn
skirt around its neck and slammed it face-first into the floor.  An instant
later she was choking out the Rape-Bot with her skirt.

   I was in awe because she wore nothing other than a suit coat that was
flapping open in front--the buttons had torn off in the fight.  With a
broken arm and broken leg and the damage inflicted by Tanisha's uninhibited
all-out assault, the Rape-Bot was no longer able to fight effectively.  One
of its eyes had been ripped out--I watched the video three times at slow
motion before I saw her stab a thumb into its eye socket.  The move was
part of a sequence of moves and they all blended together.

   I saw Sue's boytoy Tomcat drag the broken robot away to a repair area
where it would have necessary parts replaced to restore it to operating
condition for another student's use.

   "Was it really necessary", I asked, "for Tanisha to launch such a brutal
pre-emptive attack before the thug even made a move against her?"

   "I am so glad you asked that question!" Sue replied.  "The only rule in
a street fight is SURVIVE!  The attack victim will always be at a
disadvantage because the attacker will be bigger and stronger and, at least
in his own mind, meaner.  My students have only a few advantages--the main
one being surprise and that they WILL pit their maximum strength against
the attacker's weak points and will exploit every opening that the attacker
affords.  I always stress with my students that this surprise is not to be
squandered with gradualism because if the victim doesn't immediately kill
or incapacitate her attacker, he may recover and use the superiorities he
has.  I use Rape-Bots because I want realism and my students could hardly
practice such brutal tactics against their fellow students".

   "But not every street assailant is intent on murder or rape", I
protested.  Some may only want to relieve their victim of a little money to
buy their next bottle of booze.  Is it right to kill a man over that?"

   "The victim of such an assailant", Sue continued, "does not have the
luxury of waiting to find out just how lethal her assailant might be.  She
must assume the worst and use the advantages she has to render her
assailant dead or unconscious.  Only when he is no longer a threat can she
stop her assault."

   "Thank you", I replied.  "You have answered my question."

   "Mr.  Steelforth, please consider all that I have shown you tonight,
discuss it with your female friend, and let Dr.  Henderson and I know your
decision."

   With that I returned to my locker, put my clothes back on, and found my
way back out to the garage where my driver had remained waiting for me with
the car.







   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

   Note: If you are enjoying this story author would appreciate feedback to
dondaverse (at)

   yahoo (dot) com.
   

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