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Chapter 5. Petition for Enslavement
Unemployment took its toll. After approximately three months of not being able to make a mortgage payment or pay down any of my credit cards, unpleasant things began to happen. First, the finance company came and repossessed my car. I received notice from the bank that my home faced foreclosure if they did not receive at least two months payment by the end of the month. Charges had begun to appear on my credit card statement for merchandise I had never purchased!
Since I was a little girl, my favourite way to fight depression was physical activity. Cheerleading and tennis had done that for me in my high school and college days. Since then I had continued to play tennis and as a result, had remained physically fit. It didn’t hurt also that I had competed in the Boston Marathon again this year, winning second place this time! My slender and toned body was one of the few things I could feel good about these days!
My ultimate nightmare began one day last June. I had just finished a game with Becky, one of my regular partners. My pulse rate was high. It was a hot day and I was feeling tired, as I towelled off the excess perspiration. But I was also exhilarated. I had won two sets out of three! Just then I saw a man I had never seen before on the tennis courts. He was a tall and very muscular fellow dressed in a business suit and holding a clipboard. He walked directly toward me until he was only a few feet away.
"Are you Stephanie Glenn of 301 Rosewood Circle?"
"All day long," I responded, somewhat flippantly.
"I am officer Fred Jones, official process server for the District Court for the State of New York. I am here to serve you with some legal papers, and I need a signature from you right here" he said as he thrust the clipboard at me.
"What if I don't want to sign this?"
"Lady, all your signature means is that you acknowledge receiving these papers from me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you don't give us any trouble it may go smoother for you with the judge."
I made a conscious effort to breathe. With my fingers starting to tremble, I signed where he indicated, he gave me my copies, and I saw him walk back to the parking lot and drive off.
My eyes now began to focus on the document. In bold type right across the top it said "PETITION FOR ENSLAVEMENT OF DEBTOR”.
Becky had walked up to stand next to me and also saw that heading.
"Why do they need your help with an enslavement proceeding, Steph?
"Give me a minute Beck." I had a dawning premonition about this.
"Is the debtor someone you know?"
My eyes had just landed on the block on the form where it identified the debtor whose freedom was now placed in jeopardy. It showed my name and my address. My voice was starting to choke up and my hands now shook uncontrollably.
"I am the debtor in question!"
"There must be some mistake! They have you confused with someone else!"
"There appears no mistake Becky. They have my name and address on the form, my correct date of birth, my social security number, my most recent employment, and a list of debts that appear to be mine. The plaintiff is some outfit called Richmond SlendaBond Ltd."
"Do you know this company Steph? Did you ever do business with them or borrow money from them?"
"Not at all. Never heard of them before."
"How can they do this to someone of your class Steph? I mean I have heard of bankrupt debtors being stripped of their freedom before, but normally it is only some guy or gal from the lower class. They don't have all the same rights we do you know! Surely you can fight this, can't you?"
"I hope so Beck. I surely hope so. I will try to find a lawyer first thing tomorrow." I became conscious that tears were now streaming down my face. I felt that I was slipping into a state of shock.
Of course, I had no money to pay a lawyer, but I applied at the Court Clerk's office and the Court assigned me a Michael Green. I had my first meeting with him a week later:
"Miss Glenn, you have asked me if, in my professional opinion, the plaintiff, Richmond SlendaBond Ltd, could actually take away the freedom of someone of your educational attainments and social class. While I cannot predict what the outcome of your particular case will be, I can tell you that there is a widespread misconception that it is only lower class debtors who can be forced into servitude. This is actually not the case."
"So you are telling me that I actually can be enslaved?" My heart was pounding.
"Indeed yes” the lawyer continued. There are no distinctions of class in the law when it comes to servitude proceedings. Anyone owing more than ten thousand dollars to a single creditor and unable to pay can be placed into bondage by the Court or a jury - male or female, young or old, prince or pauper."
"But you said Richmond SlendaBond Ltd was the plaintiff in this matter. Why don't they just take my property?” I wailed. “Why would they want to own me?" He smiled at me, apparently amused by my naiveté.
"Your lovely body would seem the most obvious reason, my dear! Those slender, well tanned, and lightly muscular legs of yours would give any man a desire to gain complete control of you!
I noticed where his eyes were focussed and I struggled with little success to pull my short skirt down. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind for his impertinence, but realized I had few options but to try to get along with him. I could afford no other attorney.
"Who is this Richmond SlendaBond?” I asked incredulously. “I never borrowed money from them. Why are they the ones coming after me?"
"They have bought up all your debt from your various creditors. They are now your only creditor. They are the parent company of Skelly Girl Enterprises, a prostitution service that is well known for catering to business and professional men. Does that answer your question?" I nodded my head. I again made a conscious effort to slow down my breathing as the implications of that sunk in.
"Can you defend me?” I pleaded. “Do I have a chance against these people?"
"Yes I can defend you” he replied in such a tone that I could only wait for the other shoe to drop.
“But I must inform you there is a high risk that we will not prevail. Petitions of this type succeed more often than not, since the debtor defendant always has the burden to prove that she or he should not be enslaved. That requires proving that she or he would be more of a financial asset to the creditor as a free person than if forced into involuntary servitude! In other words we would have to prove that the plaintiff is pursuing the case out of ignorance or for purely vindictive reasons. In your case young lady, with no job and no immediate prospect of one, we probably can't meet our burden, considered purely as a matter of law. But there is another way you might save yourself."
"Please sir, just tell me what else I need to do."
"We should ask for a jury trial. There will be 12 jurors. Since your freedom is at stake, they must vote unanimously, just as would be true for a criminal case."
"That sounds encouraging!"
"Yes, but you need to keep in mind that the burden of proof for the plaintiff is much less than in a criminal proceeding. All he has to do is show that you owe him more than ten thousand dollars, that you have no reasonable prospect for paying off that debt in a timely manner, and that the only way that he can obtain satisfaction of this debt is by taking possession of you!”
"You probably will lose your freedom as well as any personal property you may have. Better get your affairs in order now!”
"Surely there must be another way to beat this thing?"
"Yes but I hesitate to mention it because of the way you reacted when I stared at your legs a few moments ago."
"Whatever do you mean sir?"
"I mean that even if the plaintiff makes a perfectly adequate proof that he is entitled to take your person, you can still appeal to the sentiments of the jurors. They have an absolute right, under the doctrine of jury nullification, to set you free, regardless of the law or the evidence against you." It is simply a question of setting up a situation where they will want to give you your freedom."
"How do we do that?"
"By having you appear as sympathetic as possible to them. By having them identify with your fears and care about what will happen to you. We must make them want to free you! But this may well entail giving up quite a bit of your psychological privacy!” I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going.
“Your trial won't be coming up for another two months, but there is a more immediate matter that we will need to tackle. A preliminary evidentiary hearing in your case is scheduled for next week. The purpose of this hearing will be to determine if the court should bind you over for trial. The plaintiff need only present plausible evidence that he is the sole creditor and that you owe him $10,000 or more. We can try to get the case tossed at this hearing but it is likely the plaintiff will prevail.”
“What if I am ‘bound over’ for trial? What does that mean?”
“First it means we will have to argue for you to remain free on bail until the trial. Many young men and women facing the possibility of enslavement do have a tendency to flee the jurisdiction.”
“But I have no money for bail!” By now tears were rolling down my face.
“I can try to get you freed on your own recognizance. There is a good chance the judge will go along with that since you are a professional person of good character. But then there is the matter of the “Creditor’s Examination”.
“What is that?”
“In the old days it meant that a debtor might be ordered by the court to submit all financial records to the creditor for his examination, and to give testimony under oath to the creditor concerning those finances. Now it means all of that plus the fact that the debtor, in this type of proceeding, is also ordered to present himself or herself to the creditor for an intimate examination of his or her person!”
“Does that mean my b-body?” I had a growing premonition of utter shame ahead.
“Yes! You will probably find this examination most humiliating. In addition the plaintiff will make you testify under oath as to any evidence you have that might rebut his evidence at trial.”
“But why does the law require this?”
“Because the creditor is entitled to make some advance assessment of what his chances of prevailing at trial would be and what you would be worth to him should the enslavement be successful. That could mean what price you might bring when exhibited naked on the auction block, for example! This advance assessment is useful in determining whether he should proceed with the case and spare no expense, or should perhaps consider cutting his losses by offering you some sort of long term payment plan in lieu of enslavement.”
“And what about your fee? How much and how can I possibly afford it?” I practically croaked.
“You can easily afford my basic fee, and if there are extras we will work something out.”
With that we ended our first meeting.
The following week we went before the judge. My attorney had me sit next to him at counsel table. I got my first look at the people who were trying to take away my freedom. When the judge called the case and asked for identification of the parties, I learned that the plaintiff’s agent was a Bill Steelforth and that the man with him was the attorney for plaintiff. My attorney advised me that Mr. Steelforth was the owner of the William Steelforth Agency, a reputable slaver’s agent.
My attorney was not able to get the case tossed at this preliminary, and I was bound over for trial on my own recognizance. The plaintiff asked that I be remanded to custody pending trial, but the Court ordered, instead, that I might be free on my own recognizance but must have an electronic tether device attached to my left ankle. This would make it easy for authorities to track me down should I attempt to flee the jurisdiction. I had never before felt so unfree as when the bailiff placed that device on my ankle, cinched it tight and locked it beyond my power to dislodge it. The judge had told me it was made of hardened steel so that it would be impossible to cut it off!
The hearing was adjourned. As my lawyer and I walked down the courthouse steps, he indicated that he had something on his mind.
“Miss Glenn, have you decided yet whether you will take the witness stand in your own trial and let me ask you a whole series of embarrassing questions about your fears of enslavement?”
He watched my face closely for my response.
“I think probably my answer is going to be no. I just think it would be too humiliating!”
His face registered his disappointment.
“Then there is something I will need to show you that may bear on your decision.”
He gestured for me to follow him. After a walk of four blocks we came to a large outdoor arena enclosed by a wooden plank wall. A very large sign on the wall said “New York City Municipal Slave Market”. We could hear much raucous shouting, jeers, applause and laughter coming from inside the arena. There was a smaller sign over the entrance we were approaching which I could just make out. It said “Nudity Inside. Only adults who will not be offended will be admitted here!” There was someone at the door checking the Ids of younger people to see if they were 18 or older.
I did not feel too comfortable about entering a place such as this. But my lawyer was very insistent. As we entered the enclosure we saw that many people were crowding up to an elevated stage area. My attorney kept pulling me forward until the two of us were close to that sawdust covered stage. There were naked men and women on that stage wearing iron collars and with numbers written on their bare buttocks, and on their foreheads, apparently with a black grease pencil. All of them had their hands cuffed behind their backs and were wearing leg irons.
One in particular, a man, was standing on a raised block above stage level. In spite of my horror at the overall scene, I could not help but notice that he was a gorgeous guy, perhaps 30 years or so in age. He was slender of build, and very well muscled. I noted his broad shoulders and well developed pectoral muscles and biceps. My eyes travelled down to his groin. He was circumcised. I noted his very long and moderately thick penis, and his impressive low hanging testicles.
“Do I hear twenty two thousand?” a man I took to be the auctioneer called out in a loud voice.
“Twenty two thousand, five hundred!” A feminine voice in the crowd answered.
“Do I hear twenty five thousand for this great specimen of masculinity?” The auctioneer cried.
“Let us see if his stuff works first!” Someone in the first row cried. Other people called out “hear, hear” to that.
The auctioneer signalled to his assistant, a young and attractive woman. She came forward wearing black leather gloves and a tight fitting black leather outfit that left her arms, legs and midriff bare. She was tanned, had a very flat abdomen and looked like she worked out regularly. She used the tip of a riding crop to lift the slave’s penis and to flick it this way and that. But it remained flaccid. The auctioneer gave a second signal to his assistant. With that she went behind the slave and began to slice at his buttocks with her crop. The crowd could see the man wince with each stroke.
“How cruel that is!” I remarked to my attorney.
“Not as cruel as it looks. They are administering a fairly mild form of discipline because he is being rebellious in not showing the crowd his erection. He has committed the sin of pride. That is not permitted to slaves. She is not striking hard enough to cut him or leave welts. She is striking him because he is a masochist and the gentle whip strokes will arouse him in time, however much he might prefer not to show the crowd his erection!”
I soon observed the truth of these remarks with my own eyes! That penis was growing stiff and pointing straight out toward the crowd! The crowd loudly cheered. The auctioneer’s assistant then came around in front of him again and flicked that penis left and right using the tip of her crop. This made it plain to the crowd how hard the slave had become.
“Let us see him climax!” Someone in the third row shouted, and others shouted their agreement.
The auctioneer nodded to his assistant. She took her gloves off and began to gently touch his genitals. He looked mortified. She cradled his ball sack with one hand, then put lubricant on her other hand and began to stroke his penis. Soon she was rewarded with a few drops of precum, which only those in the front row could see. After a few more minutes he began to shoot copious strings of semen that fell on the sawdust floor. His face was red, and his humiliation was complete! The crowd roared its approval! The auctioneer’s assistant smiled, took a bow and retreated to the back of the stage!
I felt my nipples grow hard and my vulva grow moist!
“Do I hear thirty thousand?” The auctioneer called out.
“Forty thousand!” Shouted an attractive young woman in the third row.
“Forty two thousand!” Shouted a matronly lady in the second row that I took to be about 45 years old. The young woman in the third row looked crestfallen. Clearly her limit had been reached.
“Going once! Going twice!” The auctioneer banged his gavel. “Sold to the lady in the second row!”
Two guards stepped forward and marched the slave to a holding pen on one side of the stage where sold slaves were kept until their new owners could claims them. The auctioneer then called for the next slave to be auctioned. It was a very attractive young woman who was trembling with fear. I did not want to stay and watch her humiliation.
My lawyer looked intently at me. I was embarrassed. I worried that he could see right through me. I felt that he might perceive that I had been sexually aroused by what I had seen.
“Do you understand why I brought you to this place?”
“To teach me what slavery is?” I said with some uncertainty.
“Quite right. I hope that it has occurred to you that, if we lose your trial, it could well be you standing on that stage in a few more months! It could be you who has to entertain
that crowd with your sexual responses to an auctioneer’s crop while men bid for the right to own your body!”
“Wh-What do you w-want from me?” I stammered.
“I want you to agree to take the stand and let first me and then opposing counsel question you in detail about your most secret thoughts and feelings about enslavement! My goal is for us not to lose that trial and expose you to the kind of humiliation you saw here today. After all, what is a little mental privacy sacrificed in the defence of your freedom?”
He looked me straight in the eyes.
“Let me think about it. When do I have to decide?”
“You can make that decision at your trial. I will ask you then and the judge will ask you.”
We parted and I did not hear further from him for some weeks.
Three weeks after that I received an “Order for Creditor’s Examination” signed by the judge, directing me to present myself on a date certain, together with any financial records, at the offices of the William Steelforth Agency. The Order also stated “the female defendant is ordered, in preparation for this examination, to shave off excess pubic hair around her genitals in accordance with the enclosed diagram.” Clearly the plaintiff had petitioned the court in such a way that I was not permitted to shave myself completely but must leave some pubic hair that would adorn but not conceal my sex. I cried and cried at the implications of this. My attorney agreed to accompany me for this exam.
On the appointed day, my lawyer and I went to the agency where Mr. Steelforth courteously escorted us into a large conference room and we were soon joined by plaintiff’s counsel and a court reporter. I was required to take an oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. At first they asked to see my financial records and they asked me some questions about my finances. They then asked what defenses I planned on making to their suit and to present any evidence that I had in support of such defenses. It was all part of the “discovery process” as my lawyer explained.
Then the moment I was dreading arrived. I was asked to undress completely and submit to a physical examination by Mr. Steelforth. I did not want to undress for this man who was trying to take my freedom away. I also felt embarrassed at the idea of my own lawyer seeing me naked. And I had no doubt these men would see plenty because of my court ordered pubic haircut! I began removing my clothes and folding each item neatly on the conference room table. It seemed strange to be undressing in a conference room rather than in a doctor’s office. And in front of a rather handsome businessman in a three piece suit. The hardest part was when I had to push my panties down in front of this man, step out of them and place them on the pile with my other clothes.
Mr. Steelforth then had me turn this way and that, and assume various attitudes and positions, so that he might assess my ‘auction appeal’. I felt the palms of his hands and his fingertips touching various parts of my body. I was about to object but my lawyer gave me a warning look. Then he undid the clasp that was holding my hair in a ponytail and he ran his fingers through my hair, apparently enjoying its silkiness. I was then asked to open my mouth wide while he shined a flashlight inside my mouth and tested the soundness of my teeth with his fingers. At one point he used his fingers to lift my tongue so that he might see underneath it. After a time he asked me to stand on a small pedestal with my legs well separated and he pulled up a stool and sat with his face directly in front of my crotch! With his thumb and index finger he then began touching my labia and pulled them apart to see that which they normally concealed. I knew that he could then see every detail of my vulva! I felt my face and breasts flushing with my humiliation. And whether I liked it or not my nipples had become quite erect from all this stimulation.
He then brought out a diagram of what he called “a generic vulva”. He began comparing my vulva to the generic one and making notes on the differences and measuring the overall length of my slit and the length of my clitoral hood and recording these measurements! I was fully displaying my most private female parts to this man, and to the others present in this room! I could sense the eyes of each person in the room focused upon my crotch! I started to cry! Tears streamed down my face at the irretrievable loss of my genital modesty. They had all seen my most intimate and sexual parts displayed for their edification!
Of course he did not miss the opportunity to go behind me, order me to bend forward while he spread my buttocks apart, peered at my anus for awhile, no doubt also enjoying the rear view of my vulva.
Just when I thought things could not possibly be any more humiliating, I was told that I must masturbate for Mr. Steelforth’s further edification. I shot an appealing glance at my lawyer, begging him with my eyes to object to this latest outrage. His hard look told me I must go along with the program. So masturbate I did! I was required to do this on the conference room table where everyone could have a good view!
I thought at first that I could get away with just going through the motions and fake my climax. But Mr. Steelforth had been in the business of examining slaves and potential slaves for many years and he said he could always tell when a young woman was faking. Finally I gave up all pretence and masturbated for real bringing myself to a real climax. They all saw it and the aroma of my sexual secretions filled the room. I wanted to sink through the floor!
Finally Mr. Steelforth gave me permission to put my panties back on. It was only then I learned that he had videotaped my masturbatory performance for the edification of his ultimate client, a person or organization as yet unknown to me!
While I sat there bare breasted and with only panties on, he asked me a series of embarrassing questions about how often I masturbated, how old I was when first I masturbated, what sorts of things I thought about while masturbating, and on and on. Because I had taken an oath at the beginning to tell the truth, my lawyer advised that I would have to answer each and every one of these questions.
Finally Mr. Steelforth seemed satisfied and gave me permission to put the rest of my clothes on. The meeting was concluded.
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