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Chapter 31. Marketing my Charges
I felt exhilarated by the morning’s court proceedings. Bill indicated that he had a couple of things to discuss with me so he and I adjourned to a cozy little bar not far from the courthouse. As soon as we had received our drinks and were getting comfortable he began.
“Steph, I must say that I think the sentences you handed down this morning were fair. More than fair! In some cases even kind considering what these terrible people had put you through.”
“Thank you Bill. I appreciate that vote of confidence. But I am very much disappointed that Zigler wasn’t there to hear his sentence and may well escape punishment. I gave him the harshest sentence of all because I consider that he has no remorse for his actions. He lives by no moral code whatsoever. Other people are just things he can use for his convenience and then discard. Like toilet paper. In Jenkins case I talked to many people who knew him in a purely business context and they all said he was honorable in his business dealings. With him at least I felt that this was a man who had some kind of moral code but his sexual sickness caused him to betray his own code.”
“I hear you Steph”, Bill responded. “What you have laid out is essentially the difference between an ‘amoral’ person and an ‘immoral’ person. And I think you have pretty well nailed the difference between these two men.”
“What I don’t understand”, I replied, “is how Zigler is able to just be a no show. Will they find him soon Bill?”
“Well you heard the judge say a warrant will issue for his arrest. That means an ‘All Points Bulletin’ will go out to police officers in every state containing his citizen ID number, his driver license photos and the license numbers of any vehicles registered in his name.”
“What does that actually do?” I inquired.
“Steph, there are cameras at all major traffic intersections in nearly all the states. These cameras capture the license plate numbers of every car passing through these crossings. They are also able in most cases to capture a photo of the driver’s face.”
“Bill, do you mean there is some huge database where information about everyone’s travel is accumulated?”
“Not at all. You see there is a law establishing the “Matching Image Capture System” (MICS) which mandates these cameras can only transmit a license plate or a photo of a driver to a central computer if the camera’s software first detects a match between that plate number and one sought in a court issued search warrant. Otherwise all images are automatically scrubbed at the source within seconds of the photos being taken. This law is designed to protect the privacy of all Capitallia’s free residents.”
“What if he is riding in a car not registered to him and someone else is the driver?”
“Then he will not be apprehended by the intersection cameras. But if he is pulled over for any traffic offense he will have to show his citizen ID and the officer will see on his computer that he is to be arrested on the outstanding warrant. Also if he has to present his citizen ID for any official purpose – such as obtaining a passport – he will likely be arrested.”
“But will any police officers be actually out looking for him, following his trail?”
“No. In Capitallia, where the APB is for an adult who is fleeing a civil action or a private criminal prosecution, such a search must be initiated and paid for by the private plaintiff. That means you, Stephanie. You are the one who stands to profit if he is apprehended.”
“I want him found Bill. This could well be the most evil man I will ever encounter in my lifetime. I will call my attorney and authorize him to hire a private detective. Now let me hear about your life.”
“Well, I went to Boston on Tuesday to see about a business possibility. An outfit called Prostitution Services Unlimited invited me to come up to their headquarters and tour the place. Then they put this proposal in front of me that could have enabled my agency to grow and make a lot of money in the process”.
“Are you going to take the deal?” I asked.
“No”, he replied.
“Why not?”
“They wanted me to bring debt proceedings against only young attractive women, then frighten them under the guise of ‘plea bargaining’ into signing away their rights. Most of these women, if they went to trial, would probably draw non-sexual indentures of five years or less. Some might even be acquitted. But I was to tell them they would surely draw twenty-year sentences and be transported hundreds of miles away from their homes, husbands and children. All this would be to make them ‘volunteer’ for a three-year sexual indenture.”
“I am proud of you for turning them down Bill! Will this be a hardship for your business?”
“Probably not. I am in process of working out another deal with Greg Masterson. The new law you inspired will make it necessary for him to divest his business of quite a few indentured servants and hire free employees to do those jobs instead. He has asked for my help to market all those he has to let go to other employers. I will be sending him a proposal soon.”
It wasn’t lost on me that the law, about to be passed, bearing my name, was going to have a very large impact on the practices surrounding indentured persons. I felt a certain satisfaction that so many would be spared rape and sexual humiliation by my unfortunate experience. All was not lost.
“Steph, I am really worried about all the signs of post traumatic stress I have been noticing in you lately. Sometimes I catch you with that million miles away look – like nothing mattered to you anymore. When Masterson told us in that meeting that he was legally liable to pay for therapy for you I breathed a sigh of relief. I was afraid you might not get around to researching the available therapies so I did a bit of research for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“What did you find out?” I replied.
“I checked out Henderson Trauma Clinic on a tip from a professional therapist. I had a chance to interview the Director there and actually meet one of the couples he is currently working with. When I told him what you had been through, he recommended supervised one on one therapy with a partner, encounter group therapy and a six week self defense course taught by someone already well known to you – Susan Coxwain.”
“Susan!” I shouted. “I have often wondered what became of her after she retired from the New York State Police force.”
“Steph, I think you really should go over and have a talk with Dr. Henderson and see if his program might work for you.”
I thought of what Ralph the doorman had said to me about how I, like other raped women, “looked like a hunted animal”. Perhaps this Henderson Clinic was something I really should look into. I promised Bill I would at least consider it and kissed him goodnight.
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When the day of the auction finally rolled around I decided I didn’t want to miss that either. I made my way into the fenced in auction area near the courthouse where my lawyer had taken me prior to my own trial. I noted they were checking ages of very young people and not admitting those under 18 unless accompanied by a parent. The nudity and sexual humiliations that so often happened here were thought not suitable for children, notwithstanding the exception that had been made for punishment day.
As I got inside I saw that there were reserved seats up close to the auction platform for the sellers and the serious buyers. Behind this roped off area was a more general seating area mostly filled by gawkers and voyeurs. These were, for the most part, people who had not the means to buy a slave but enjoyed coming here as spectators to enjoy the sexual humiliation of other people as they were vended from the platform.
I had a word with the auctioneer beforehand to make sure the sale would be humiliating for Duncan and Ms. Clifford. Both would be auctioned naked, as was the custom. When it was Duncan’s turn I had him lightly whipped on his buttocks to arouse him so that he would erect and ejaculate before the crowd. There were many hoots and hollers from the voyeur section. The crowd could see that he was vital and bidding was brisk. I had a mobile electronic device that enabled me to keep track of the bids and to know the nature of the business each bidder nominally represented.
The seller informs us that Mr. Duncan is being sold under the provisions of the new “Custodial Slavery Act”. That means any who bid will be expected to submit background information and proposals for the type of work the slave would be doing for them and concerning any rehabilitation and education they are committing to provide the slave. The seller will evaluate your bids on all these factors and not on bid price alone.”
Reactions from the crowd were mixed. Some applauded while there were mostly groans from the voyeur section. They found auctions more exciting when the whole process played out in front of them and they could see whose bid won.
“Now do I have some bids on this handsome ejaculator?” the auctioneer called out, manipulating Duncan’s genitals with his long pointer stick.
Someone signaled $50,000, then someone else said $70,000.
“I will bid $95,000”, said a female agent that I recognized as the rep for Cunilingus Bars of New York.
The vindictive part of me would love to award Duncan to this bidder. This company was famous for providing overweight middle-aged women an oral sex experience where they could remain anonymous. If I awarded Duncan to them he would be getting a face full of sticky juices several times a night for the next twenty years. He would never see the faces nor learn the identity of any woman he would be forced to service though they would surely see his face and learn all they cared to know of his past. But of course I had to consider the merits of all the bids before deciding.
There were no more bids. The three who had bid entered their bid prices and personal information into their laptop computers for transmittal to the auction house computer.
“Next up we have a very attractive young family. A young woman is being auctioned – also under the “Custodial Slavery Act”, but she comes with two young daughters ages 8 and 11. The lucky bidder for the woman must assume responsibility for housing the woman with her children, who will remain free, in a licensed residential facility that is in compliance with the new “Children Of Slaves” (COS) law. The financial costs for the children’s board and room, their medical care and their education through the 8th grade will be borne by the godparents of these children. In a moment you will all meet this attractive young woman and her daughters. Out of respect for the sensibilities of these innocent girls I must insist there be no jeering or hooting or rude remarks of any kind while the children are present. Would the Clifford family come on the platform at this time!”
I saw a modestly attired Cheryl Clifford climb the steps to the platform holding on to two thin preteen waifs who were also modestly attired. She was directed to come to the front and center and face the audience. She looked scared and her two children seemed shy and nervous. Her crime was detailed and information was presented about the two children. The auctioneer entertained questions from the audience for perhaps ten minutes, then the two young girls were escorted off the platform and disappeared from sight.
“Time for modesty is now over”, the auctioneer yelled at Miss Clifford. “Every article of clothing must be removed. Now!” He punctuated his demand by cracking the whip against the floorboards.
She very timidly stripped until she was quite naked. Then her hands were cuffed behind her. I had instructed the auctioneer ahead of time to lightly whip her ass. He was to do this until her nipples erected and juices ran down her inner thighs. She tried to hide her face but the auctioneer made her stand up straight and make eye contact with bidders in the crowd.
“Now this young lady as you can see is in fine physical condition. I understand she works out regularly. Surely there is someone in this crowd who could put her to use dancing for customers in a strip bar!”
There were guffaws at this. Then a couple of bids, one for $90,000 and one for $135,000.
“I will bid $165,000 for her!” said a male agent I recognized as the rep for Fantasy Showgirls.”
There were no more bids and the bidders again entered their bids in their laptop computers for transmittal to the auction house computer. The high bid for Cheryl was almost twice as much as for Duncan even though her sentence was shorter and the buyer had to assume certain responsibilities for her children.
In the days that followed the would-be buyers submitted all the required information and proposals electronically.
For Ted Duncan I had three bid proposals:
For Cheryl Clifford I had three bid proposals:
I had another meeting with Judge Morelock who introduced me to a Miss Bixby, the slave advocate he had assigned to also participate in evaluating these proposals. She and I discussed all the above bids. She readily agreed with me that the escort jobs offered Duncan and Cheryl were too good for them and would hardly constitute punishment. While I had been initially tempted to give him to the chain of cunnilingus bars which would have been degrading and also gave me the highest price, I realized that this work would be pointlessly degrading and a total waste of his talent and experience. So, in the end, we had little difficulty reaching agreement that, for Ted Duncan, the most appropriate placement would be with the manufacturing firm that wanted to use his Human Resources experience. The work would be humiliating and punitive, yet it would use his abilities and allow him to stay current in this field so that he might obtain employment as a free man after his time was served.
In the case of Cheryl Clifford we had to agree to disagree. Miss Bixby wanted to place Cheryl in the public brothel because she thought that would be less degrading work than sexually suggestive pole dancing plus going upstairs and providing sex to customers. She kept talking about how ‘obscene’ pole dancing was. I thought obscenity was in the mind of the beholder. At least with the brothel job, Miss Bixby maintained, Cheryl’s children could be kept innocent of any knowledge of how their mother was being punished. I wanted to give Cheryl to “Fantasy Showgirls” because I thought it would be less humiliating than the brothel job. At least she could take pride in her skills as a dancer and performer. Also because I believed her kids should not be kept in the dark about their mother’s punishment. In this job they would talk to children of other showgirls and would inevitably learn what their mother had to do every day. Probably they would pester their godparents for permission to watch their mother dance for the customers. They would see a highly erotic performance by a self-confident dancer and quite possibly develop an itch to do that type of dancing themselves. I honestly believed that the apprenticeships that would be offered Cheryl’s girls could be a good break for them. Also, of course, their bid was the highest. I was allowed to consider that as well.
Miss Bixby and I submitted our disagreement to Judge Morelock who backed our joint recommendation for Ted Duncan and my choice for Cheryl.
A few days later I received a call from a Sarah Westham, who owned a chain of auto repair facilities in New York State. These were repair shops that specialized in the high tech cars, built by Masterson Automotive, which could drive themselves in cities where a grid had been installed. Mrs. Westham was offering my two boys an apprenticeship to train for positions as future journeymen mechanics with her firm. These would be well paying jobs the boys could hold after they were freed. It was an excellent opportunity for them. Part of the arrangement was that Mrs. Westham had the hots for Erin and would be using him sexually during his apprenticeship. He was sixteen now so that would not be a legal problem.
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In the weeks that followed Edgar sold the banker as a simple chattel slave, realizing a substantial sale price. He used that money to send Sally Rigers to Richmond Slendabond for slave breaking. After their program he knew he could control her and so had her transferred to his own home where he knew he could incapacitate her musculature whenever he wished with a post-hypnotic command. His plan was to vindictively rape her daily for a month or until the thrill was gone. He found that he thoroughly enjoyed these rapes and that the thrill never really did wear off. He decided to keep her more or less permanently as his personal sex slave.
I sent my five newly acquired slaves to Richmond Slendabond to be broken into their new status in life. In the case of Jenkins, the manufacturing company had specified in their bid that I deliver to them a trained slave. In the case of Cheryl Clifford, “Fantasy Showgirls” had similarly specified in their bid that I supply a trained girl. And the others I also needed to train even though I was retaining ownership. Naturally I was curious as to how they would be trained and how far they had progressed in the few days since their arrival at the facility. The facility was a two hour drive up into the Catskills from New York City. I did not want to drive up there alone so Bill agreed to go with me.
The ride took us through beautiful scenery. I could not help but think back to the first time I had made this trip with Bill only a year ago. That had not been a happy trip since Bill was then delivering me to the place where I would be broken. He had been driving then too and his partner Virginia had been riding in the back seat. I had been acutely aware of what loss of freedom felt like since I had not wanted to go on that trip at all and my hands were cuffed behind me the whole trip. My wishes had meant nothing then. I had been scared stiff about what they would do to me once I was delivered to the training facility. I had also been acutely conscious of how immodestly attired I was, wearing only a short cape that barely covered my crotch and left my long legs entirely bare. I had noticed Bill admiring my legs many times on the trip but he had been a gentleman.
Now it was just Bill and myself in the car. The circumstances were very different. I was going not as a slave, but as a slave owner. And I was modestly attired in a business suit and high heels. We eventually were traveling in farmland and about two hours out of New York we arrived at the old estate that had been converted into a training facility. We saw the long stone walls and then were at the gatehouse. Soon we were pulling into a parking spot near the main visitor entrance. How different from last time when I had been delivered to the loading dock.
We entered and approached the receptionist. Bill announced to her that we were here to see the training director, Charlie Witherspoon. I well knew this man, of course, from my earlier experience as a slave undergoing training. Mr. Witherspoon had been the one who had personally trained me, against my will, to be a skilled fellatrix. When Bill had told me that he would be our host for this tour I was shaken. I did not know if I could face this man again. It might bring back all the old fears. The day before I had a discussion with Dr. Henderson about my misgivings and he told me just how important it was that I face this man and establish a new kind of relationship with him to replace the old subservient one.
When Witherspoon came into the lobby and greeted us he was most gracious. He treated me like a lady and not like the naked slave he had, at one time, forced to lick his penis. I made a point of being assertive with him, since I was now his customer and not his trainee.
“Mr. Witherspoon, I understand that you will show us today how my five slaves are being trained and answer my questions about the training methods.”
“Please, Miss Glenn, call me Charlie. I work for you now. You owe me no formality. Let’s begin our tour by taking the elevator down to what we call the “Cylinder Room” in the sub basement.”
Bill had told me about this room. He had written about it in some detail in his own memoirs a year ago. I knew that this is where all the brainwashing began. As the elevator made its way downward, Charlie began to explain what I was about to see.
“You should realize Stephanie, it is crucial that we have the ability to impose our mind control techniques on even the most resistant subjects. Bill has seen all this before but it may be a revelation to you. The ability of subjects to resist mind control will depend on their remaining oriented to the reality around them. That awareness is what we take from them with the help of sensory deprivation and the bio-implants. Let us see some of our subjects undergoing sensory deprivation.”
We emerged on a large open floor with a ceiling that was perhaps 14 foot high. My eyes were immediately drawn to a row of twenty vertical cylinders made of clear glass, each about eight feet tall and three feet in diameter. What was striking about these was that each cylinder contained a naked human being, apparently suspended in some clear liquid medium that came up a foot or so higher than head level. These suspended humans had various wires attached to them and tubes coming out of them. Next to each cylinder there was some sort of control console with all sorts of monitoring instruments. The room had a surreal look because overall lighting was dim but with the cylinders, their naked occupants and the control consoles brilliantly lit up by contrast.
The first two cylinders contained young women. Charlie led us a bit farther down the row to where there were some cylinders containing naked young men. These men were slender and well muscled with rock hard abdomens. They had impressive endowments between their legs. In all the cylinders the nude occupants had their hands cuffed in front and wore ankle shackles. In all of them the occupants were hooked up to breathing tubes and I could observe the level of liquid in the cylinders subtly rising and falling in time with their respirations. Fortunately these breathing tubes hid little of their faces from view. Their eyelids were taped shut. My impression was that the two men in front of us must have been having sexual thoughts because each man’s penis was partially erect. Each wore a Texas catheter fitted around the end of the penis with a tube leading to a clear external cylinder that appeared to be about half full of urine. Charlie carefully studied my facial expressions for a while to judge my responses to all this, then began to offer me an explanation.
“Why the Texas catheter? Why not a Foley?” I asked.
“Because the Foley goes up inside the penis all the way to the bladder, while the Texas catheter, as you can see, is fitted around the outside of the penis. The men often become aroused during their time in the cylinder and we want them to be able to masturbate and ejaculate – which they can do with this type of catheter.”
“I see”, I said.
“But why don’t we move down to the other end and have a look at your properties”, Charlie offered.
We came to the other end of the row of glass cylinders. I could see that the last 5 cylinders, all in a row, were filled with my slaves. What a thrilling sight that was! There was Tom Jenkins, Ted Duncan, Cheryl Clifford, Erin and Kim! All the people who had violated my rights. Now they were all being stripped of their dignity and their free will in these cylinders because I had ordered it! Wasn’t I the powerful one?
“Bill, this man”, I said pointing to Duncan, “is the man who interviewed me for the job at Masterson Automotive”. Also he was the man who refused to investigate my sex harassment claim and the man who fired me and turned my life into a nightmare. For the longest time I was afraid of this man. Now as I look at him hanging naked and restrained in a glass cylinder, he just doesn’t look so scary anymore. He looks pathetic!”
“This woman”, I said pointing to Cheryl Clifford, “is the former slave advocate who was supposed to have protected me from the abuses I suffered while a slave. But I never saw her during my time as a slave. She had more important things to attend to then interviewing slaves and investigating their work conditions. Now that I see her like this, hanging naked and restrained and with a small catheter coming out of her vulva to a urine jar, I see that she is pathetic too!”
“Stephanie”, Bill responded, “you too once hung naked, restrained and blindfolded in one of these tanks! It is part of the training all slaves go through here.”
“Is that really true Mr. Witherspoon?” I needed to know. I could hardly bear the thought of my hanging there like Cheryl with a tube coming out of my twat.
“It’s true, Miss Glenn. You were in the same cylinder that Cheryl hangs in now. I was the one who put you in the tank.”
I wanted to cry at this news, but I knew I had to steel myself and be the tough new take charge individual I wanted to be. I couldn’t let Charlie and Bill see me turn to jelly at this revelation.
“I’m sure you would like to see Erin”, Charlie offered after a long pause, eager to change the subject, and led us down to the last cylinder.
There was Erin hanging there blindfolded, his beautifully muscled slender 16 year old body, and his head of brilliant red hair matched by the red color of his pubic hair. My eyes lingered on his genitals – those parts of him that had seemed loathsome when he was raping me during my kidnapping. Now they did not seem loathsome because he was now powerless. Now I could see those parts of him as beautiful. Poor Erin with his intense hang-ups about modesty!
Just then I noticed Erin’s penis beginning to stiffen a little. Soon his hands were starting to play with his parts. The penis became still harder. After much more self fondling Erin began to jerk forward and back with his hips and pretty soon we saw the previously clear golden liquid in the tube from catheter become filled with a milky white substance. A greatly pleased and relaxed look came over Erin’s face. I didn’t need a program to know what had just happened.
“Doesn’t Erin have any modesty any more?” I wanted to know.
“Sure he does”, Miss Glenn. “It’s just that he thinks he is in the privacy of his own bedroom and not being observed by three people! He can’t see us or even have a tactile experience of being in a tank. We control his perceptions of where he is through his bio-implant device. That is why he thought he was masturbating in private.”
“But why did he do this just now – while we were standing here?”
“We stimulated him through that control console over there”, Charlie replied. “We wanted to put on a little show for you! Thought you might enjoy it!”
“Well I suppose I did, dammit!” I stammered. “How humiliating that will be for him when he finds out about this later!” I said.
“Most slaves never find out about their time in the tank” Charlie remarked.
“Did I masturbate when you had me in this tank?” I needed to know but was afraid of the answer.”
“Yes, you did”, Miss Glenn. “And I don’t think I ever witnessed such a pretty masturbation! We even have a video clip of it – and I will be happy to surrender our only copy of that video to you when you leave today.”
“I would certainly appreciate your doing that Mr. Witherspoon!”
I indicated to Charlie that I had seen enough of the ‘cylinder room’. He led us back to the elevator and up to the floor where his office was. There we began a discussion on the finer points of slave training.
“The first aim of slave training, of course, is obedience. The slave is of little use to his or her owner if he or she cannot be controlled. But beyond that there are a lot of variables in slave training having to do with the desired attitude that an owner wishes the slave to exhibit.”
“How would this concern my slaves?” I asked.
“We have some specific suggestions for them”, Charlie continued. “Take Ted Duncan, for example. We think since you will be selling him to a manufacturing firm where he will be an enslaved Human Resources Manager, that his attitude should be one of genial self-confidence. He must be capable of projecting an appearance of authority even while being absolutely obedient to his corporate superiors.”
“Or take Cheryl Clifford. We understand you will sell her to “Fantasy Showgirls” where she will be a stripper, pole dancer and prostitute. We think when she is entertaining on stage she should be a femme fatale. She should project a willingness to entertain, even pleasure in entertaining, along with an aura of mystery. But when she has to go upstairs with a customer for sex, it might be best if her attitude could be variable – whatever would turn a particular customer on. Some may want a willing prostitute who is eager to please. Others may want a prostitute who is coyly reluctant or even one who is rebellious so they can feel they are essentially forcing her to have sex.”
“What about Tom Jenkins?” I wanted to know.
“For Jenkins we think an attitude of extreme humility, even self effacement, might work best. That would be consistent with the type of humiliating sex therapy you plan for him.”
“I think for the two boys I would like it best if they retain that cute modesty thing, and that they also remain somewhat rebellious”, I said.
“Consider it done!”
With that we concluded our meeting. Charlie quietly handed me the videotape of my own masturbation that he had earlier promised. Bill and I took the two hour drive back to Manhattan.
On the drive back I asked Bill if he had watched me masturbate when I was in the tank. He assured me that he had not.
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In recent weeks I had come to realize that my views on slavery had come full circle. Now I was starting to ask myself whether my new views, together with a possibly successful sex therapy, shouldn’t be reasons enough to take a fresh look at the possibility of a romantic relationship with Bill. The nearly twenty year difference in our ages was a source of concern, yet I enjoyed the maturity I found in him which I usually did not find in men my own age. When I had something to express he was always willing to listen and give feedback. More than that I felt visible when I was with Bill. I had a sense that he perceived me much as I perceived myself.
I had, based on the information Bill had given me earlier, contacted the Henderson Trauma Clinic and begun a program of individual sex therapy for myself. It was designed to cure me of my fear of intimacy with a male that my multiple rapes had caused. I knew I would need to begin working with a male partner soon. They had offered me a male surrogate partner, but I had been thinking that perhaps I could persuade Bill to work with me in therapy as my sex partner. I knew that, in my present traumatized state, I could only offer him sex under the supervision of a therapist and with the benefit of the anti-trauma drug. I knew also that he was hot for me, but would he be comfortable having sex with me in that clinical setting?
It was in this context that I answered the doorbell of my apartment one day and was surprised to find Bill standing there.
“Am I interrupting anything?” he said. “If you have no special plans I would like to talk.”
I agreed that I had nothing special planned for that afternoon and invited him to stay awhile. After offering him coffee and exchanging the usual pleasantries Bill came straight to the point of his visit.
“I feel that you and I have an affinity for each other, and I would like to know you better. Much better.”
I liked his directness.
“Bill”, I began, “ As you know, I have been having sex talk therapy for some weeks now with a therapist at the Henderson Trauma Clinic where I verbalize my traumatic experiences under the influence of their patented anti-trauma drug.”
“How is that going?” Bill interjected.
“So far so good“, I replied. “Bill, this is awkward, but you did say you wanted to know me much better. I am reaching a point in my therapy where I need to work with a male partner on my comfort levels with ever increasing intimacy. They have offered me a male surrogate partner, but I would really like it if you would be my partner in therapy!”
There. I had said it. Now I waited in tense suspense to see what would be his answer.
“I would be delighted to be your partner in therapy!”
We both breathed a sigh of relief and resolved to make the arrangements the following day.
“Steph”, he continued, “you once told me that you held strong anti-slavery views and that my profession therefore would get in the way of our having a more intimate relationship. Do you still feel that way?”
“Had strong anti-slavery views”, I responded. “The operative word is ‘had’. I now understand better than I ever did before just how important the systems of slavery and indentured service are in this country. I have also come to understand that, notwithstanding my own bitter experience, that there are a lot of people involved in maintaining these systems, yourself included Bill, that are good and decent people.”
“Thank you for that”, Bill responded. “But there is another matter. I have often wondered lately if you ever forgave me for that rather intimate “Creditor’s Examination” I did on you before the trial?”
“Bill, what can I say? It was one of the most humiliating times in my life! Yet I recognize that, at the time, you were doing your duty to your client under the law as it existed at that time. Hopefully the law named after me, when or if it goes into effect, will ensure that few young women are examined in that way in the future. I know that you were not seeking to make it any more humiliating than it needed to be to satisfy the legal requirements of the time. “
“I appreciate your attitude Steph”, Bill responded. I am not sure I would be so forgiving if it were the other way around. I will take it then that you and I do have a chance for a long term relationship?”
I responded with no words but gave him an affectionate hug and a kiss and we said goodnight.
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
Note: If you are enjoying this story author would appreciate feedback to dondaverse (at) yahoo (dot) com.
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