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Subject: {ASSM} Twelve Days a Slave 2 of 13     Public Nudity, Public Humiliation, Involuntary Slavery
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Date: Mon, 18 Jan 2016 05:10:04 -0500
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Twelve Days a Slave 2 of 13
by
The Technician

Public Nudity, Public Humiliation, Involuntary Slavery

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Convicted terrorist, Vicki, is reduced to being slave missy.

Vicki, a young woman who works for a large department store, figures
out a way to bypass the electronic return tags on expensive dresses
sold by the store where she works . This allows her to buy dresses on
a Friday, wear them to events over the weekend, and return them on
Monday.

When a very expensive dress she is wearing is ruined at a party,
everything unravels. She will be charged for the dress and can in no
way afford to pay for it. A young man she recently met gives her a
program that will allow her to remove the charges from her account.
Unfortunately, that program contains a virus that infects not only
computers in the store where she works, but many other businesses as
well.

This is the story of her conviction as a terrorist and what happens to
her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not
impossible in the United States of America. The Thirteenth and
Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution do not NOT prohibit slavery.
They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the
Constitution allows penal slavery.

This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and involuntary
slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would advise
skipping this particular book.

There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on
their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous
portions have been read. The complete story is full book length. I
debated publishing it with some of my other books at Fiction4all, but
decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.

A description of the thirteen chapters follows the end of each
chapter. This chapter is Vicki's "Day of Repentance" and her
humiliating descent into slavery, including being renamed as slave
missy. The chapter centers primarily on public nudity and public
humiliation.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

WARNING!  All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18
ONLY.  Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content.  All
people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations,
and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real
life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference
between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province,
nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts
depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to
somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if
acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is
included with the article.  This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The
Technician ( Technician666@Gmail.Com. )

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this
story for personal, non-commercial use.  Production of multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly
forbidden.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Published eBooks by Wayne Mitchell (The Technician}
Senior Project  http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=7753
Handcuff Island http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8160
I, Masochist http://www.a1adultebooks.com/book.htm?pr=8263

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
 * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Chapter Two - A Day of Repentance 

Two weeks following her conviction, at nine o'clock in the morning,
Vicki stood on the steps of the courthouse where she had been
convicted and sentenced. The day had been determined not by the
courts, but by the advertising cycles. William had set the date so
that the maximum furor could be generated in social media and the most
on-demand views purchased. The courthouse looked out on a large open
square. That square and the route of her humiliation had been cordoned
off.

Tickets for watching from within the cordoned area had sold out
immediately. Front row tickets were resold on-line for outrageous
amounts. A large banner hung from the roof of the courthouse
announcing today's date and time beneath the words, "A Terrorist
Repents and Accepts Her Punishment." A large picture of Vicki in the
orange prison dress, her hands and legs shackled, was also on the
banner.

Vicki had asked several times what exactly was going to happen, but
William had been insistent that she should not know in advance what
was going to happen to her. "You can't change it," he said. "Why force
yourself to live it out in your mind in advance. Just accept what
happens as it occurs and you will get through it."

The first surprise for her day of repentance was the dress she was
given to wear. It was an exact reproduction of the $32,000 dress that
had been her downfall. That fateful weekend, her plan had been to wear
the expensive designer dress to a Community Benefit Gala and return it
to stock, but that was not to be. Samantha, the head salesperson on
the designer dress floor, was also at the gala. When she saw Vicki she
came over and intentionally spilled red wine down the front of the
dress. Then leaning in close she had said, "You cost me a year-end
bonus because returns were too high in my section." Then, almost
snarling, she said, "Try returning that now, bitch."

She couldn't return the dress... and there was no way that she could
ever afford to pay for it. But Jarred, a boy at the party whom Vicki
had dated, said he had a program which he would give her that would
allow her to get into the proper files to take the cost off her
account. It worked just as he said it would, but it also put a virus
on the company's computers... a virus which spread to vendors,
customers, and other businesses. A total of 46 companies were infected
by the time Jarred triggered the virus crashing those computer systems
on Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year.

Jarred then posted a video claiming credit for the cyber attack in the
name of the People's Economic Justice Front. That video was broadcast
on all of the news networks almost as soon as it was received.

Normally, Vicki didn't pay that much attention to news programs, but
it was almost impossible to avoid seeing this particular video. And as
soon as she saw the beginning, she recognized Jarred.

Vicki stared at her TV. Could this be the young man who had helped
her? At the end of the video, Jarred looked directly into the camera
and said, "I would especially like to thank Vicki LeClaire. Without
her help, none of this would have ever been possible."

Vicki was still staring at her television screen two hours later when
a special SWAT team from Homeland Security burst through the door to
her apartment. She was dragged out to a heavily armored van and
transported to a special security jail. Against the advice of her
lawyer, she decided to tell the truth- the whole truth.

She should have listened to her lawyer.

That truth was the basis for the eleven counts of theft of goods and
services- the dresses she had worn and returned. That truth was the
basis for the embezzlement charge- for changing the accounting files.
That truth was read as testimony against her at her trial as proof
that she was, indeed, the terrorist who had introduced the virus onto
so many stores' computer systems.

She was convicted on all charges.

And now she stood at the top of the courthouse steps wearing a
reproduction of the exact dress which had led to her downfall. She was
dressed as she had been that night. Well, not exactly. Today she was
wearing Aubade lingerie and Prada shoes- items that she could never
afford on her salary. And her hair had been styled by one of the best
salons in town- again, something she would never have been able to
afford. A professional had even applied her makeup. She had never
looked better.

William had explained, "Everything is symbolic. We start you at the
very top so that your fall to the bottom is that much more dramatic.
.... People pay for drama."

When she grimaced, he added, "That little trick added 10% to the cost
of the tickets and 25% to the video rights. And for you, money is
time." After a forced smile, he continued, "Trust me. I know what I am
doing."

She could see the clock in a church tower located on the opposite edge
of the square. Whatever was going to happen would start in five
minutes or less. As the hands on the clock came closer and closer to
the top of the hour, William leaned in close to her and said, "Things
are going to start in just a few moments. Remember, don't think about
what is happening. Instead think about all those fantasies you had
when you went out to all those BDSM sites."

He had barely stepped away when six women encircled her. They looked
very familiar, but it still took her a moment to recognize them. It
was Samantha and her entire sales staff. "We paid a lot for the
privilege of doing this," Samantha said. "And we are REALLY going to
enjoy it," said one of the saleswomen.

All six of them each held up a pair of scissors. "I think this dress
needs a little modification," said one of them. "I agree," said
Samantha as she began cutting one of the sleeves.

Vicki fearfully expected them to immediately cut the lavish dress from
her body, but instead they cut only thin strips of fabric from the hem
and from the ends of the sleeves. When they finished, the dress was
intact, but smaller. "Not quite enough," said Martha. Vicki remembered
that she had bought several of the dresses through her.

With an evil-sounding laugh, Martha cut another inch off the hem of
the dress. "Still not quite slutty enough," she said as she stepped
back. Another woman stepped forward and cut away about half of the
sleeves.

Vicki felt like screaming, "Just cut it off me!" but she knew that she
had to remain totally quiet. For this day to count, she needed to
remain silent until she made her statement of repentance at the other
end of the route.

The women continued their slow cutting away of the dress until it was
barely below her panties. She could feel the air move against the
bottom of her ass cheeks. Samantha picked up one of the long strips of
fabric from the ground and said, "Let's try accessorizing." She then
tied the strip around Vicki's waist like a belt.

"I don't like the line that creates," said one of the women.

"The upper portion needs to move freely," said another as she reached
in with her scissors and cut the dress in half just above the
improvised belt.

"That's better, but it should still move more freely," Samantha said
as she cut 2" off the upper portion of the dress revealing Vicki's
trembling abdomen.

"Now, the sleeves don't look right," said Martha. She cut what little
remained of the sleeves off the dress.

"I think it calls for the wife-beater look," Samantha said with a
sneer as she began to cut the top into a shape which would match the
sleeveless T-shirt commonly called a wife-beater.

"Now her bra shows," said another of the women. "We can't have that."

"Easily corrected," said Martha as she reached under the mangled top
with her scissors and cut the sides of the bra. Two more snips and the
straps were also cut. One of the women reached under the top and
pulled the bra clear. Vicki gasped as it was pulled roughly off her
breasts.

"We have the same problem with her undies," one of the women giggled.
They are showing under the dress."

"Well," replied Samantha, also giggling, "you know how to fix that."

Two of the women worked together. Each pushing their scissors under
the dress to reach the sides of the panties. 

"Those should fall down on their own," Samantha said derisively.
"...unless she's pissed herself or is getting all turned on by this."
The sneer was gone from her face, but not from her voice.

The six women stepped back slightly, each staring at Vicki's legs
waiting for the panties to drop.

"I don't see any pee on the ground," said Martha. "That can mean only
one thing."

"Oh," said Samantha with a deep laugh, "you are a naughty little girl
aren't you." She reached up under the short remnant of the dress and
pushed the sopping crotch of the panties to one side. She slid her
finger through Vicki's slit and then downward, catching the panties as
she pulled her hand out from beneath the dress.

"If I had known how kinky you were, honey," she said, "we might have
been able to work out something on the dresses."

She held the panties to her nose for a second and said, "Definitely
the smell of a turned on kinky cunt." She then dropped the panties on
the steps at Vicki's feet.

For some reason, seeing her wet panties lying at her feet was more
embarrassing for Vicki than anything else that had occurred. She felt
her skin redden with shame, but at the same time she felt her juices
beginning to seep down her thigh. The thought that people would soon
be able to see her wetness brought more shame which brought an
additional flood which brought additional shame. Soon she could turn
no redder. Perhaps her wetness had also reached its maximum.

The women returned to their alterations of her dress. "If she is such
a slut," Martha said, "then she really should try the topless look."

Three women attacked what little was left of the top of the dress and
soon it joined her panties in a pile at her feet. She was now standing
bare-breasted in front of several thousand people and who knows how
many throughout the world who were watching live video feeds of the
event. Her wetness had not reached its maximum.

"The dress is still too long for a slut like Vicki," Samantha said.

One of the women responded by cutting an additional 2" from the
micro-mini remnants of the lower portion of the dress. Now her ass
cheeks were definitely on display from the back. From the front, her
cunt was not quite visible, but wisps of her pubic hair hung down just
far enough to make themselves known beneath the dress.

Samantha now stood directly in front of Vicki. They were face to face.
Samantha tilted her head slightly as if she were going to kiss Vicki,
but instead reached up under her dress with her left hand and cupped
Vicki's gushing mound. "Life is full of missed opportunities," she
said softly. "We really could have had some good times together."

She then smiled and said cheerily. "I did have fun here today,
though." She formed her mouth into a pouty frown and said, "Too bad
things are going to get a little more intense for you at this point. I
think you were starting to enjoy this, too."

She then reached over with her right hand and cut down the front of
the remainder of the dress. Catching that small piece of fabric in her
left hand, she held it aloft for all the crowd to see before dropping
it on the ground with the rest of Vicki's clothing.

The crowd roared out its response as Samantha, Martha, and the other
four women walked up the steps and into the courthouse leaving Vicki
standing naked behind them.

***

Vicki stood naked except for her high heels at the top of the
courthouse steps. She had no idea what came next, so she wasn't sure
what she was supposed to do. The only thing that she knew for sure was
that she was supposed to stay there and keep quiet. So that is what
she did. She stood quietly awaiting the next portion of her
repentance.

She could hear footsteps behind her. Someone in heels was walking
toward her. She managed to keep from turning around to see who it was,
but as the footsteps came down the steps, she couldn't help herself
from turning her head slightly. It was the stylist who had done her
hair!

"You didn't think I did all that work this morning out of the goodness
of my heart, do you?" she said with a light silvery laugh. Vicki
thought that this was probably how the woman spoke to her expensive
clientele in her downtown shop.

The stylist held something in her hands. Vicki wasn't sure what it was
until it began humming like an angry wasp. It was a set of electric
hair clippers.

"I've always wanted to do this," the stylist said as she reached up
and placed the clippers in the center of Vicki's forehead. "How would
you like it styled today?" she asked cheerily as she pushed the
buzzing tool back through Vicki's hair. The sudden coolness on the top
of her head told Vicki that there was a bald strip down the center of
her head.

"I think we need to even that up just a bit, don't you?" the stylist
asked. She then returned the clippers to Vicki's head and began making
pass after pass across her scalp.

Vicki looked down at her feet. Her damp panties and the scraps of
dress were now being covered with twisted piles of hair. She began to
cry softly.

"Oh, don't worry, honey," the stylist said. "We will make sure that
everything is properly finished out." She smiled and asked, "Won't
that be nice?"

Vicki remained silent. A moment later, the stylist patted her on her
now totally bald head.

"Collar and cuffs should always match," the stylist said in her
falsely cheery voice. She then reached down between Vicki's legs with
the clippers and began to remove her pubic hair.

"Some stylists would be satisfied with that," she said firmly after
all hair there was also gone. "But I am not just some stylist. I have
a reputation to maintain."

She clapped her hands and a man ran up to her carrying a heavy wooden
tray. There was a machine of some sort on the tray that Vicki didn't
recognize. The stylist pushed a button on the top of the machine. It
whirred loudly and foam of some sort filled the stylist's hands.

"Only the best for my customers," the stylist said as she began to
apply the foam to Vicki's head. It was warm- almost hot- and seemed to
sting slightly.

"There are herbs in my special mixture that cause the hair to stand on
end," the stylist explained. "They sting just a little, but it is
worth it for the closeness of the shave." She then picked up a razor
from the tray and began shaving Vicki's head.

The razor was very much like a standard women's razor that you could
buy at most stores, but somehow it looked... more expensive.

It took only a moment for the stylist to finish Vicki's head. She then
said, "Spread your legs wider." Vicki complied.

The foam felt hotter on her pussy than it had on her head, but then
again she was more sensitive between the legs than she was on her
head. The stinging was also worse- much worse.

"I added extra herbs just for today," the stylist said. "I'm sure you
want to be shaved extra close."

Again, it took only a moment for the stylist to finish. The man handed
her a wet towel and she wiped Vicki's head and then her cunt. The
after-effects of the herbs caused the skin to tingle and feel cold.

"Normally I guarantee that you will stay smooth for at least five
days," she said. She then cocked her head slightly and said, "It's a
pity you won't know how long my shave would have lasted for you."

With that she and her assistant walked down the steps and off into the
crowds. Vicki wondered what the stylist had meant by her not knowing
how long the shave would have lasted, but there was no one to ask. And
even if there were someone to ask, she was supposed to remain quiet.

Vicki stood as she had been left by the stylist. Her feet were a
little more than a shoulder width apart and her hands were at her
side. She could feel the air moving over her bald head and over her
now smooth crotch. She had often thought about completely shaving her
sex, but had never had the nerve. After all, only those kinds of girls
shaved totally bare.

"I guess I'm one of those kinds of girls now," she thought to herself.
She could hear men's voices behind her, but they sounded muffled for
some reason. A clearer voice, a woman's, said loudly "You can start as
soon as we get the area cleaned up and I put the protective caps in
place."

Vicki had no idea what the protective caps were or where they would be
put in place. The suspense was almost too much and she was very
tempted to turn around to see what was happening behind her. Luckily,
just as she was about to turn, a mid-20s young woman in white, haz-mat
coveralls stepped out in front of her.

The woman stood quietly while an older man in grey coveralls and a
young man in blue jeans gathered up the scraps of her clothing. The
older man then swept up the hair and small pieces of cloth which were
still lying on the steps.

"We need the shoes, too," said the young man and Vicki stepped out of
the shoes. She was now totally naked, but somehow felt less naked
barefoot than she had in the high heels.

"You'll need to stand very still while I apply these protective caps,"
the woman said loudly. "The seals have to be perfect or you could lose
your eyelashes... or even your sight."

She then took a clear plastic dome about the size of a shot glass out
of a bag that was hanging from her shoulder. After checking something
on the cap, she reached back into the bag and brought out a small tube
of thick gel-like material which she applied to the edges of the cap.

"Close your left eye," she instructed.

Vicki did so and the woman set the cap over Vicki's eye, pressing
firmly while she counted out loud to 25.

"Now close your right eye," she commanded.

Again, Vicki did so and a few moments later she felt something being
pressed tightly over that eye as the woman once again counted to 25.

"You can open your eyes now," the woman said.

Vicki did so and realized that she was now wearing what looked like
tanning goggles, except they were totally clear, and there was no band
holding them in place because they were glued to her face.

"Ready," the woman said in her loud and clear voice. Two men in full
haz-mat protective suits, including taped gloves and fully-hooded
headpieces, walked out in front of her. These must have been the
muffled voices which she had heard behind her.

"Try not to move around too much," one man said. "If you rub your skin
while the solvent is still working, you can cause irritation. It will
take a few minutes for the chemicals to kill the roots of the hair
follicles."

The other man, who had been standing behind him, stepped forward with
two 3-gallon sprayers like you would use for pesticides in a garden.
Handing one to the first man, he said, "Remember, top to bottom then
back up until both units are empty."

That is what they did. Starting with Vicki's head, they sprayed a
layer of some sort of gooey liquid on her skin. It was bluish-green
and smelled like stagnant water. A few moments later, Vicki's skin
began to burn.

"Don't touch yourself!" the second man commanded.

"Keep your legs well-spread and try not to clench your ass," the other
added.

It took all of Vicki's willpower to keep herself from dancing in place
or trying to rub the vile liquid from her skin. A short while later,
she heard the hissing of the two sprayers as they emptied completely.

"Five minutes," the first man said. 

"Starting now," the woman added as she once again stepped in front of
Vicki. The two men were no longer visible- but then not much was. The
caps protected Vicki's eyes, but they were coated with the blue-green
slime and she really couldn't see anything very well.

"Two minutes to go," the woman said. Vicki felt like she were being
dissolved in acid. How could she stand two more minutes of this
torture?

"One minute," the woman said. Then "thirty seconds." At ten seconds
the woman began counting down. Vicki felt herself pulsing with the
count of each second. Finally the woman said, "Five minutes," and
again stepped out of the way.

The two men were back. Now they had much smaller tanks, but much
larger sprayers. A hose snaked off into the distance from each tank,
so evidently the tank was just to mix something into water that would
flow through the hose.

Vicki wasn't sure what was being added to the water, but she knew for
certain that the water was cold- extremely cold. It was colder than
any water that she had ever poured from a tap.

Again the men started at the top and worked their way downward. The
one man turned his sprayer so that it was spraying directly up between
Vicki's legs. She gasped as the frigid water pushed its way slightly
up into her slit. At least the cold, or the chemicals added to the
water, stopped the burning.

The rinsing seemed to go on forever, but it was actually only about
ten or fifteen minutes. By the end, Vicki was shivering violently and
her teeth were chattering. 

Both men now trained their sprayers on the ground, washing away the
residue of the original glop. As they worked their way back behind
Vicki, the woman once again faced her. "Hold out your arms to the side
and spread your feet as far out as you can." Vicki did as she was
instructed, fearing what might come next.

There was suddenly a loud roar behind her that sounded like a mix of a
noisy truck engine and a jet taking off. A strong, hot wind began
blowing against Vicki's back.

"Turn around slowly," the woman instructed.

As she turned, Vicki could see that the hot wind was coming from a
large heater like would normally be used up north to warm up stalled
trucks in the wintertime. She tried to turn as slowly as she could so
that she could luxuriate in the warmth, but the woman said testily,
"We don't have all day. Keep it moving."

When Vicki was once more facing out toward the crowds, the woman
reached up with a large, strange looking set of pliers and grabbed one
of the protective cups. "This may sting a little coming off," she said
as she slowly pulled the cap off Vicki's left eye. A moment later, she
removed the cap on the right eye.

"Now you never have to shave anything... ever again," the woman said
cheerily. Vicki stared numbly back at her as she realized "anything"
included not only her pubic hair, but also her eyebrows and the hair
on her head.

"Time for your walk," a man's voice said as the woman stepped aside.

Two bailiffs stepped forward and began attaching the shackles. These
were slightly different than what had been used before. There was a
heavy metal collar with a chain that connected to the center point of
the chain for the wrist manacles. From there it also went down to the
center point of the chain for the leg shackles.

After everything was in place, one of the bailiffs attached a long
chain to the point where the neck chain joined the wrist manacles. As
he pulled on it, her hands were forced upward and forward. The
bailiffs pulled her slowly down the steps, letting her get used to
walking in the chains. Once they reached the street, they attached the
other end of the chain to the back of a military caisson wagon. Vicki
felt like she was an ancient prisoner of war ready to be paraded naked
before the people. In many ways, that was exactly what she was.

The horses began moving. Vicki had no choice but to follow the caisson
through the downtown area until she came to the store where she used
to work. Once there, she would read her prepared statement of
repentance and acceptance.

Vicki had known this would happen. She had known that she would walk
from the courthouse to the store where she worked and there read her
statement of repentance. She didn't know that she would be chained to
the back of a ancient military wagon for that walk. She didn't know
that she would be more than naked. And she didn't know that people in
the crowd would be throwing rotten vegetables and eggs at her the
entire fourteen blocks to the store.

"William probably sold them the eggs," she thought to herself. "Or at
least he charged extra for the privilege." For a moment she felt
bitterness- almost hatred- toward William Wilson, but then she
remembered that her sentence was twelve million dollars. Anything that
went toward that amount lowered her final time as a slave. Without her
negotiator, she would have been a slave forever. So, standing straight
with her shoulders back she forced herself to complete her walk of
shame.

As she walked, she looked at the people in the crowd. There were men
and women, old and young. Surprisingly, there were even young children
in the crowd. Even more surprisingly, many of the children were
holding unclothed dolls. Some of them held up their dolls as she
walked past.

It wasn't until the fifth block of her walk that Vicki suddenly
realized that the dolls were her. One young man even had a full
caisson set with her being pulled naked behind it. Looking through
some of the shop windows, she could see displays of herself, exactly
as she now was. There was even one almost life-sized doll watching
over a large display of smaller dolls. The large, naked doll looked
very accurate. She tried to see if it was also accurate between its
legs, but was distracted by a price tag or something which was printed
on the front of the doll.

It was surprising to her how many of the people were giving garbage to
their children to throw. To her, that seemed somehow wrong. But her
opinions no longer mattered. Besides, there was nothing she could do
about it. All she could do was walk behind the horse-drawn caisson
which was pulling her through the streets. 

When she finally reached the store, two more men in hazmat suits stood
ready with hoses to wash the eggs and garbage off her body. There were
no extra tanks connected to the hoses, so this was evidently just
water. It was also considerably warmer than the water which was used
to rinse the blue-green goo off her body.

Unfortunately, there was no powerful heater to warm her and dry her
when they finished. Her nipples hardened into tight nubs in the cold
as she walked up onto the platform and faced the crowd. Her prepared
statement of repentance was waiting for her at the podium. It was
printed out in large type. Since she had not seen it before, she tried
to scan it rapidly.

A bailiff stood alongside her. "You have one minute to begin or the
deal falls through," he said gruffly.

Vicki picked up the paper and began to read. "I am heartily sorry that
I have violated the law, but more than that I am deeply sorry for any
harm I have caused to come upon any person or business. I readily
admit my guilt and accept my punishment, including my... my... my..."
She couldn't form the words.

"Continue," said the bailiff sternly.

Suddenly William was standing beside her. "You can do this," he said.
"This is the toughest part. You can do this."

Vicki took a deep breath and resumed reading, " I readily admit my
guilt and accept my punishment, including my branding as a slave until
full restitution has been paid to the courts."

She set down the paper and began sobbing. Mr. Wilson took her by the
shoulders and led her to another portion of the raised platform. "It's
not an old-fashioned brand," he said. "There's no branding iron. It's
more like a tattoo."

Two bailiffs guided her over to a large, strangely-shaped, curved
table. It looked almost like part of a large barrel. One of the men
pushed her back against the curved surface while the other began
strapping her arms and legs in place. Then a third bailiff, a woman,
stepped forward with a large, strange-looking flashlight.

The flashlight was actually a laser branding device. The woman pressed
it against Vicki's pubic mound a few inches above her slit. Suddenly
an excruciating pain flashed through Vicki's body. 

"That's one," said the woman as Vicki screamed.

She then moved the device so that it was pressed against Vicki's skin
just above her left breast. The woman pushed a button on the side of
the device and once again excruciating pain flashed through Vicki's
body. It was there and then it was gone, but that quick flash of pain
was enough to cause Vicki to scream and, this time, to lose control of
her bladder. She sobbed in pain and shame as her piss puddled under
her.

The two bailiffs released her from the restraints and helped her to
her feet. They moved her back to the other section of the platform
where the judge stood waiting. As she approached she could see that,
for some reason, there was a large mirror next to the judge.

The purpose of the mirror became evident when the judge spoke. "Vicki
LeClaire is no more," he said solemnly pointing towards the mirror.

His words were true. The figure looking back at her from the mirror
was not Vicki. "From now until your sentence is complete," the judge
continued, "you are slave missy, also known as prisoner PS382563."

Slave missy looked at her reflection in the mirror. Reading the mirror
image, she could see that just above her cunt it said "Penal Slave
382563." Above her left breast it read, "Slave Missy."

William was standing beside her. "The worst is over for today," he
said.

She looked at him with tears flowing from her eyes. She reached up
with her right hand and lightly stroked the brand that proclaimed her
to be slave missy. 

"I used some of my commission to buy the naming rights," he said
softly. "It could have been something really terrible. Or if no one
met the price, your default name would have been slutslave563. I
thought you deserved more than that."

Vicki... missy, gave him a crooked smile that said she understood. She
then looked around trying to figure out what else was awaiting her on
her day of repentance.

"Lower the cage," one of the bailiffs cried out as he and two other
bailiffs began moving people away from the center of the platform.

Missy looked up. A mechanism of some sort had been attached to the
roof of the store. It looked like the winches that the window washers
used to raise and lower their platform, but there was only one cable.
And hanging at the bottom of that cable was a cage.

"You are to hang for one half hour at each floor level," the bailiff
announced. "Then you will hang just above the street until the sun has
set." He then took her by the arm and moved her into the cage.

The cage itself was circular, about three feet in diameter, and a
little over six feet tall. Missy could stand in the cage, but couldn't
sit or kneel or otherwise rest. She grabbed hold of the bars as the
cage rapidly began to rise up into the air.

She screamed all the way up as the cage swung wildly like a pendulum.
When it reached the fourteenth floor, it stop rising, but still
continued to swing wildly for several more minutes. When the cage
finally stopped, missy could see that she was just outside the
executive board room. There appeared to be a party going on. One of
the men suddenly pointed out the window and everyone gathered to look
at her.

One of the women raised her glass of champagne as if offering a toast.
The rest of the room matched her action. Then someone taped a large
piece of paper to the window. Written in large  black letters were the
words, "You're Fired!" The person who had taped the paper to the
window raised his glass toward the cage one final time, then laughed
and closed the curtains.

Missy started to cry. The closing of the curtain did something to her
that nothing else had done. It made her feel insignificant. People
staring at her as her clothing was cut from her body was embarrassing.
Being paraded through the town totally naked was humiliating. Being
branded was torture. But through all that she was still a person.
People were paying attention to her. She was still a part of their
world.

The people in the streets below wondered what had caused the long,
anguished scream they heard from the cage. As the curtain closed,
missy was forced to accept that she was now nothing. She meant nothing
to anyone.  She was a slave... not even a person. She was a nothing
hanging outside a closed window. As she screamed, her hands gripped
the bars of the cage. Her head slowly sank down to rest against her
arms. She was crying heavily... uncontrollably. Her body slid down so
that it was partially crumpled with her ass against one side of the
cage and her knees against the opposite side.

At the end of the half hour the cage began to move downward. The
movement startled slave missy, but at least it didn't start to swing.

The thirteenth floor was a mechanical floor, so the only personnel on
that floor were maintenance workers and cleaning crews. Four
maintenance men were watching through a window. The next window over
was a break room. It looked like the entire cleaning staff was
gathered watching. There was no evidence of a party in either room.
And no one was laughing as they watched her. The top floor could laugh
at her and close the curtains on her and forget her, but these people
were the bottom rung of the employees. Not as much separated them from
the naked woman who hung outside their window. They stared silently at
missy for the entire thirty minutes she hung outside the thirteenth
floor.

The reaction on the remaining floors was somewhere between the
extremes of the upper floors. Two differences were at the ninth floor
and the fifth floor. The ninth floor was the accounting floor where
Vicki, now slave missy, had once worked. Everyone on the floor glanced
up, but none of the men and women from accounting could bring
themselves to come over to the window. They knew that Vicki wasn't
really a terrorist. All of them were thinking how easily it could be
them hanging in that cage if they had accidentally introduced a virus
into the computer system.

The fifth floor was the designer dress floor. Samantha and her sales
people were waiting at the window when missy was lowered to their
floor. They also raised a toast to her, but their drinks appeared to
be soft drinks in plastic cups.

Missy remembered Samantha's comment about what might have been.
Pulling herself up and standing straight, she smiled at the faces in
the window. Then she reached down and cupped her own sex, sliding her
fingers deep within. She smiled at the shocked faces, except for
Samantha who continued to smile at her. Missy lifted her glistening
hand up to her mouth and blew across it, as if blowing a kiss.
Samantha grabbed the blown pussy out of the air and held her hand
under her own nose. She inhaled deeply and smiled back at slave missy.
Neither of them was aware of what else happened for the rest of the
half hour as they gazed into each other's eyes. As the cage began to
descend once again, Samantha mouthed clearly, "Life is full of lost
opportunities."

It was late afternoon by the time the cage finally stopped just below
the first floor. Crowds gathered beneath her. Many were taking
pictures with their phones. A few professionals in the crowd were
using quality cameras with long lenses. Missy tried to turn herself so
they couldn't zoom in on her nakedness, but turning away from one
photographer merely turned her toward another. Finally she gave up and
stood passively as the cage itself slowly rotated back and forth on
its cable, displaying her to the entire crowd.

As the sun began to set, the two bailiffs who had been with her on the
platform began moving the crowd back. The caisson wagon was brought in
so that the top of the ammunition box was directly beneath her. A few
moments later, the cage again descended until it came to rest on the
top of the caisson box itself. The bailiffs slipped some cargo ratchet
straps through the bars and under the caisson box and locked it in
place. Then one of the bailiffs climbed onto the caisson and reached
above the cage to release the cable.

The driver climbed into the wagon seat and gathered up the reins which
controlled the four horses pulling the caisson. With a loud
"Hee-a-yup" he urged the horses to their task and they clip-clopped
back up the path which missy had walked that morning. Their pace was
significantly faster than it had been with missy walking behind them.

When they arrived at the jail, they didn't go into the indoor prisoner
transfer area. Instead the horse-drawn caisson was pulled up to the
loading dock at the back of the jail. A winch arrangement on the docks
was used to lift the cage and set it back down on a warehouse pallet.
Then one of the bailiffs used a pallet jack to roll missy back to her
cell.

When they arrived at her cell, the bailiff said, "Stick your foot
through the bars."

Vicki did and the bailiff unlocked one of the shackles.

"Other foot," he said and the other shackle was removed. The procedure
was repeated with each arm. Then the bailiff pulled on the neck chain
as he said, "Back against the bars."

Missy could hear a loud click and the metal collar was removed. The
cage was then set inside missy's cell. The bailiff unlocked the door
to the cage and took the padlock with him. "Don't attempt to open the
cage until I have your cell door secure," he ordered.

Once the cell door was securely shut, he said, "You can get out now."

Missy opened the cage and stepped into her cell. The orange dress was
nowhere to be seen, so she remained naked. A few minutes later a guard
came with a food tray. It was standard prison food and didn't look all
that tasty, but missy hadn't eaten all day and finished everything
before sliding the tray back under the bars to the waiting guard.

"Where is my dress?" she asked.

"You're a slave now," the guard answered. "If the temperature is above
58 degrees, you're not allowed clothing." He laughed and then added,
"It's always above 70 in here. You do the math."

Missy sat on her bed and cried. She wondered if she could actually run
out of tears. She was a slave... a piece of property. They had even
brought her back to her cell like she were a part of the heavy iron
cage in which she was displayed.

"At least they let me have a pillow and a sheet," she thought to
herself as she sat down on the bed. A little while later, she cried
herself to sleep. She had not yet run out of tears.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 
END CHAPTER TWO OF THIRTEEN
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Chapter Summaries

Chapter One: Vicki LeClaire is convicted of all charges. A sentencing
agreement is negotiated by William Wilson, a professional slave
sentence negotiator. This chapter primarily sets the scene for the
rest of the book. Once that is done, the action near the end centers
around public nudity and public humiliation.

Chapter Two: Vicki's "Day of Repentance" and her humiliating descent
into slavery, including being renamed as slave missy. This chapter
centers primarily on public nudity and public humiliation.

Chapter Three: The first of missy's 11 days of public punishment. On
this first day of punishment, Master Hiroya Takahashi demonstrates
properly-trained pony girls, and instructs missy on the proper way to
receive a punishment spanking. The focus of this chapter is pony girls
and public spanking.

Chapter Four: The second day of punishment begins with a flogging
contest by a company called Judicial Placements Incorporated. Her
negotiator... and new Master, William Wilson, flogs missy the required
forty-six times to fulfill the terms of her sentence. This chapter is
totally focused on non-consensual flogging.

Chapter Five: Slave missy's third day of punishment. She is once again
subject to a spanking, this time by the head of a private girls'
reformatory. Before her spanking, several of the young women from the
reformatory also receive public punishment. This is a spanking chapter
with bare hand, slipper, paddle, and leather belt.

Chapter Six: The fourth day. On this day of punishment, she is
caned... by a robot, or more accurately, by a computer-driven
mechanical spanking machine. Before her caning, James Madison
demonstrates his company's machines. This chapter focuses on
mechanical flogging, paddling, and caning. It also delves into
self-bondage and pain-pleasure.

Chapter Seven: The fifth day. Slave missy is punished by water
combined with heat, cold, and electricity. This chapter focuses on
various types of water punishment.

Chapter Eight: On the sixth day of her punishment, missy is introduced
to "The Whipmaster." Before punishing her he provides a demonstration
of his abilities. The chapter is focused on public nudity, public
humiliation, and public flogging of one sort or another.

Chapter Nine: The seventh day for slave missy is a day for
electro-punishment. Slave missy becomes part of the vidshow, "Wheel of
Pleasure, Wheel of Pain."

Chapter Ten: The eighth day introduces a unique punishment- punishment
by combat. There is also an undercard of slave wrestling with
humiliation and pain in store for the loser.

Chapter Eleven: The ninth day of punishment is a lottery. The public
is given the chance to paddle the repentant terrorist. Eight lucky
winners each get to give her five swats with a special paddle. One
lucky winner gets to finish the forty-six required for her punishment
by laying six swats of the paddle across missy's ass. The undercard is
also part of the lottery. Three slaves in need of punishment will each
receive 20 swats, again with one lottery winner delivering 5 of those
swats. In addition, there are two volunteers. One is a male member of
the stage crew who is coming out as a pain slut. The other is a woman
who has been at every performance so far and wants to experience
public punishment and humiliation. Hers is a special case and her
husband will deliver however many swats it takes to make her cum.
Twenty-five winners were chosen to participate. Each was asked to
write a short essay saying why they should be the one to deliver the
final six to the repentant terrorist. The winner finishes off missy.

Chapter Twelve: This tenth day returns missy to old-school punishment
as she receives an old-fashioned caning. There is also a contest
between slaves to see who can withstand the most strokes of the cane.

Chapter Thirteen: (Last Chapter) Slave missy finally reaches her final
day of punishment. After having been punished by hand, slipper,
paddle, cane, water, and electricity, missy is punished with pleasure.
She is strapped into a high-tech denial/teasing/edging device and
taken to the very brink of orgasm 46 times.

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