Twelve Days a Slave Ch. 01

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 of 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, but decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.

A description of the thirteen chapters follows the end of each chapter. In this chapter, 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.

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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.

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.

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Chapter One - A terrorist is brought to justice.

Vicki LeClaire listened in shock as the foreperson of the jury read the verdict. "On the eleven charges of theft of goods and services, guilty as charged. On the single charge of felony embezzlement, guilty as charged. On the 46 charges of aiding and abetting a terrorist attack upon a commercial entity, guilty as charged."

Guilty of all charges! Her knees buckled slightly, but her lawyer held her firmly so she wouldn't fall.

"This is so unfair!" she thought to herself. "All I did was wear and return a couple of dresses," she said plaintively before breaking into tears. "I'm not an embezzler," she said quietly between soft sobs. "I'm not a terrorist," she said a little more loudly.

"Does your client have a statement to make to the court?" the judge asked. Obviously, the question was directed toward her lawyer, and not to her.

"No your honor," the lawyer replied as he turned Vicki so that she now faced the judge rather than the jury. "My client will reserve any remarks for sentencing."

The judge's gavel struck loudly as she said, "Court is adjourned." Turning to the jury she added, "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your service." With that the judge rose and left the courtroom.

***

Vicki wasn't sure if her lawyer pulled her down to her chair or just stopped holding her up. In any case, she plopped heavily into the chair behind the defendant's table. She was in shock. Her mind was barely functioning. She was vaguely aware of everyone shuffling out of the courtroom. One middle-aged gentleman, however, was walking against the crowd and working his way over towards them. Finally, he was beside them. Reaching into his pocket, he placed a business card on the table.

"I think you have need of my services," he said gruffly.

Vicki picked up the card. In bright red letters it said, "Bill's Bail Bonds."

"I'm a little past needing bail," she said. She tried to sound sarcastic, but that was difficult to do with her voice at the edge of breaking into sobs.

"Oh!" he said suddenly and took the card from her hand. "Wrong side up," he added as he handed it back to her.

The card now said in raised black script, "William Wilson, Sentence Negotiator." Beneath that it said, "Guaranteed Minimum Slave Sentences."

Vicki looked up at him and said, "I don't understand."

"Do you mean you haven't discussed the slavery option with her?" he thundered, speaking to her lawyer. "Do I have to do all the work?" he asked loudly and sarcastically.

Turning back to her, he said in a much softer voice, "You do realize that you are going to be sold into slavery, don't you?"

"Slavery?" Vicki said. "That... that... that... can't be," she sputtered. "Slavery was abolished hundreds of years ago. Isn't that what the Fourteenth Amendment is all about?"

"Actually, it's the Thirteenth Amendment," Mister Wilson said. "But neither the Thirteenth nor the Fourteenth Amendment totally abolish slavery. The Thirteenth Amendment stopped all slaveryexcept as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted."

He sat at the table and took Vicki's hand in his own. Looking directly into her watery eyes, he said simply, "You have been duly convicted of all charges, including the charge of terrorism."

Her lawyer now began to speak. "Fighting terrorism for the past decades has been very expensive," he said slowly. "The budgets of federal, state, and local governments have all been badly drained. Everyone is looking for ways to save money and still provide all the security that people demand. You can't cut defense while you are effectively in the middle of a world war. And you can't cut security protection with everyone afraid that their next door neighbor is going to shoot them or blow them up. And you can't cut welfare and get re-elected."

He sighed deeply, "The next big chunk of the budget is regular law enforcement, and over half of that budget is prisons."

Bill continued, "Private prisons helped a lot in the past. They were a lot cheaper, but even they weren't cheap enough. That's when the courts turned to slave sentences. What could be cheaper than having someone pay you for the right to keep a prisoner in prison? Rather than the state paying a company thousands of dollars a month to house and guard a prisoner, the company pays the state for the prisoner who has been duly convicted and sentenced to slavery. Most of the country doesn't even realize that all of this is going on."

He looked up at Vicki and said, "Obviously, you are one of those naive innocents, but you will soon learn all about it. There is absolutely no doubt that you are going to be sold into slavery."

He laughed dryly before saying, "If it weren't for the terrorism charge, your own company would probably buy you to do your old job. It's cheaper than replacing you." He laughed again before continuing, "... and having a slave in the accounting office sends the message of what can happen to you if you hurt the company's profits."

"The big problem," added her lawyer, "is the terrorist charges. I know that you were just trying to defeat the electronic return tags so you could wear some nice dresses and return them. But when one of the dresses got ruined at a party, your friend, Jarred, gave you a program so you could access the higher level accounting files. It did that, but it also put a virus on your company's computer that spread to 45 other companies before being triggered on Black Friday.

"Jarred, whoever he really was, disappeared into the cyber underground leaving you to face the wolves alone. You are a convicted terrorist. You won't be going to any accounting department anywhere. You won't be going into any business position either. You won't even be bought as a domestic servant. Most people don't want to risk having a terrorist in their business or home. That means you're much more likely to be working in some mine or specialized farm out in the middle of nowhere. And manual labor brings the lowest prices for a slave. You could be facing years and years of indentured servitude– maybe even a lifetime."

"Which is why you need me," said Bill. "I find places that are willing to pay top dollar."

"What difference does that make?" asked Vicki.

Bill looked across the table at her lawyer before saying, "Your lawyer really should have explained all this to you before you even entered a plea."

"She was ignoring my advice at that point," the lawyer said rather defensively. "She said that she was just going to tell the truth and people would believe her."

"Whatever," Bill muttered, obviously upset. "The judge is going to sentence you not to a number of days or months or years, but to a dollar amount. You remain a slave until that dollar amount is paid to the court. Slave contracts are for one month, six months, one year, three years, five years, or whatever. They can even be permanent, if the dollar amount is high enough."

"And you can negotiate that down for me?" Vicki asked.

"I can try," answered Bill, "but a lot of it depends on what you are willing to do. I can get very high prices for special purpose slaves, especially females."

"He means prostitutes," her lawyer explained.

"Well, yeah," muttered Bill, "but I don't think we will have to resort to that." He smiled at her and said, "And I can get huge amounts knocked off for public repentance or public punishment. I think our best bet is to go with both."

"What do you mean?"

"Repentance involves public humiliation and shaming," he explained. "A couple hours of misery to save years of slavery." He paused and shrugged his shoulders. "Some people can handle it. Some can't. And punishment is... punishment."

"What kind of punishment?" she asked.

Bill laughed. "The kind people would pay to do... or watch," he answered. "I don't think the court would allow a full bullwhip or anything like that on a woman, but a cane or a flogger or perhaps a wide belt would qualify for a CASEY reduction to your sentence."

"Casey?" she asked.

"Constitutionally Approved Slave Equivalent Years," her lawyer explained. "For example, if you were publically caned with say 46 strokes, one for each count of aiding terrorism, that might take a year's equivalent dollar amount off your sentence."

"A year!" Bill exclaimed. "You let me set up the deal and I can get you at least five equivalents off your sentence... that is, assuming the caning was done on the bare in a public arena."

Vicki put her head down on the table and began sobbing uncontrollably. Bill slammed his hand down on the table right alongside her head. "Missy," he said very firmly when she looked up at him, "I know that this is all very difficult for you." Glaring at her lawyer he added, "And it is made more difficult by the fact that your lawyer didn't properly prepare you for what could happen. But we have only 24 hours from the time the verdict is declared to present an alternate sentencing package. If you let me negotiate for you, your life will probably be hell for the next two or three years. But if you just wait for sentencing, you will be a slave in some godforsaken hell hole for the rest of your life."

He lifted her head fully so he could look her in the eyes. "I need an answer now," he said. "Time is slipping away from us."

"What do I have to sign?" she answered. The sobs had stopped. Acceptance had set in. Her mind had gotten past "How did I get into this?" and was now at "How can I survive this?"

***

Before William Wilson left the courtroom, he assured Vicki that he would present a plan to her by noon the next day. If she was willing to accept that plan, they would present it to the judge at two in the afternoon. At 10:45 she was brought down to a special area to meet with her negotiator.

Mr. Wilson was sitting at a strange metal table waiting for her. The guard had handcuffed and shackled Vicki before they left her cell. He sat her down and locked her handcuffs to a large ring on the table. William said, "I will call if we need you," and the guard stepped out of the room.

Vicki looked around and asked, "Don't I need my lawyer?"

William smiled at her and said, "He doesn't want to be here." He then grimaced and said, "Slavery bothers him. He can't handle it." Then he said softly, "I can arrange for a public defender to be here if you want, but this is my area of expertise... and it is your decision, not your lawyer's."

"OK," she answered. "What are you suggesting?"

Her body was stiff and tense. Her eyes were quivering slightly. It was as if she were waiting for a bomb to go off in front of her.

"Initial proposal from the judge," he began, "is a sentence of twelve million dollars including a minimum of ten year's penal servitude."

Vicki gasped loudly and her body began shaking. There was a wetness between her legs as her bladder began to empty. "I'll be a slave forever," she wailed.

"In the old days," he replied, "yes. But people today are tired of years of war and security restrictions. They want a clear victory. They need some form of emotional release." He smiled. It was a smile of satisfaction. "And I convinced one of the vid syndicates that you were just that release... or to be more exact, your repentance and punishment was that release."

Vicki looked up at him. "I know that you are not a terrorist," he explained. "But that's the charge on which you have been convicted. Because you are not a terrorist, you are sorry for what you have done. You are already repentant. You won't look defiant. You will look like a defeated person who wants to make amends." His voice became almost a jubilant yell as he finished with "That's what the people want to see!"

Taking her hands in his, he said, "And that's what we will give them, a twelve-day reality series of your repentance and punishment. The first day you will be enslaved and publicly humiliated. Then on each of the next eleven days, you will receive punishment of some sort."

He looked very satisfied with himself as he continued, "I based the pitch to the vid syndicate on the number of charges. One day of humiliation and enslavement for the embezzlement. One day of punishment for each of the eleven charges of theft of services. And each day will be built around the forty-six charges of helping the terrorists."

Vicki listened quietly, then asked, "How long will I be a slave after that?"

"I couldn't get the judge to go lower than one year," William replied. "But my percentage on this deal is my swan song that has laid a very good retirement goose egg for me. The plan is for you to be sold to me for 10% of the proceeds of a national public display tour. Basically, after the repentance and punishment, you end up being a one-woman side show with people paying money to see the captured terrorist... plus some occasional punishments."

He reached over and lifted Vicki's chin so she was again looking at him as he spoke, "And 50% of the proceeds of the tour will be put into a special account for you to live on when it's all over."

"Where does the other 40% go?" she asked. She was, after all, a number cruncher at heart.

William laughed. "I figure 20% goes to expenses." He shrugged, "The other 20% is my standard fee."

His voice became very business-like as he asked, "So, will you go along with the deal if the judge accepts it?"

"Don't I need to know more of the details?" she asked.

"A lot of the details haven't been worked out," he answered. "And I think you are probably better off not knowing exactly what is going to happen to you." He once again took her hands in his, "Besides," he said softly, "I have some very thorough investigators working for me. I've read through your web histories. If you actually enjoyed some of those fantasy sites you visited a lot, then most of what is going to happen might not be all that terrible."

Vicki gasped loudly. She knew that her computers had been thoroughly examined, but she only went out to the BDSM sites on her little notepad which she always kept hidden when she wasn't using it. She never used any other computers for her web cruising. She didn't want to accidentally mix some of the pictures and videos with other things which she shared with friends. How could William know about that?

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't give your little pink notepad to the authorities. They didn't find it when they searched. I had the advantage of your apartment being empty... and my investigator uses an electronics sniffing dog to find concealed equipment."

He paused then said, "Your pink laptop was behind the access panel for the bathroom plumbing. If the government agents had found it, they probably wouldn't have had any additional charges, but everything on it would now be public record."

He slid a form across the table. "My signature is already on it as negotiator," he said. "You need to sign your acceptance. Then all we need is the judge's signature and it's official."

Vicki seemed to stiffen slightly as if her body did not want to do what her mind was commanding, but she signed the paper.

At three o'clock she was once more taken to the courtroom. Although the session had not been publicly announced, the galleries were packed with reporters and others who wanted to hear the sentencing first hand. William and her lawyer sat with her at the defendant's table.

At the proper moment, she stood and the judge said, "Vicki LeClaire, I hereby sentence you to twelve million dollars worth of judicial enslavement. The court accepts the terms of the sentence bargaining agreement reached through William Wilson Negotiations."

He banged his gavel loudly and announced, "Court is adjourned."

***

As soon as the judge had left the courtroom, one of the bailiffs came over to the table and said, "You requested transport, Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes," he replied. "This has to be done as soon as possible."

Looking over to Vicki and said, "Merchandising is part of the deal, but we have to get you scanned so they can get into production."

Vicki wasn't sure what he meant, so she just said softly, "OK... I guess."

The bailiff stood next to her and said, "Sorry, miss, I don't think you are much of a threat, but the regulations are full manacles and shackles whenever you are outside of the building. Please stand up and hold your arms out in front of you."

Vicki did as instructed and the bailiff closed the heavy metal bands around her ankles. Then setting the chain in her hands, he closed the slightly smaller cuffs over her wrists. "I also have to accompany you at all times," he added.

He escorted Vicki and Mr. Wilson to an indoor loading area where a white transport van was awaiting them. Two black SUVs were parked in front of the van and another behind it.