Twelve Days a Slave Ch. 02

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 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.

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.

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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 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.