Capture Team Pt. 05: The Platform

CAPTURE TEAM: PT 5 THE PLATFORM

I was in the basement of a rambling old house in the college town of River Bend. From the street the house surrounded by high hedges overlooking the river looked like an old manor. The Institute used the isolated location as an interim detention center to hold repossessed local debtors condemned to serve the period of an indenture they agreed to when the debtor obtained a loan.

In front of me, the guest of honor was not a debtor but an absconder, formerly a trusted human asset at the Institute.

"My name is LT Tina, Commander of this station," I introduced myself to the six-foot-tall dark haired male prisoner hands bound by stay -- ties. The prisoner's position under the blinding light above the octagonal tailor's platform surrounded by six facets of mirrors give me a panoramic view of his robust, hairy body.

Pointing to the prisoner's shrunken penis and drawn up against the body, Cliff leaned into me to whisper in my ear, "He's playing tough, baring his fangs for show, but his spear has shriveled. He's afraid."

Noticing the muscles in the prisoner's broad shoulders straining against those plastic ties, I reminded him, "You are being processed as an absconder for return to the Institute. Thus far, you've been cooperative. Cliff and Logan are here to assist me if you present a problem. We aren't going to have any problems when we cut off the stay ties. Will we?"

I sighed. If the master tactician taught 2500 years ago that anyone, even a woman like myself, can be a soldier, then by the same token anyone can be a traitor.

It had by no means guaranteed from the inception that the mission would post an outstanding success. Some time ago, I arrived at this hidden detention center in a huff. Wearing the dress uniform, a jacket over a starched blouse and a tight mid-calf skirt that squeaked when I took every step, I was not a bit miffed. Even though I had been notified by Dr Crenshaw's office of the change in plans I was furious.

A secretary in Dr Crenshaw's office had called me to advise me of the modification of my orders. "Dr Crenshaw wanted to speak to you personally. Doctor regrets he must deal with a grave emergency. He did leave this message for you. `as circumstances require, one must modify one's plans accordingly.' Doctor said you'd understand."

"From the Art of War." I replied.

"To look at Dr Crenshaw's face," the secretary advised, "you'd think there was a war going on."

"Damn!" I exclaimed aloud in my car after I terminated the call with Institute Headquarters. I had been en route to the Institute to celebrate a milestone in my career. Now diverted from my promotion ceremony, I was reassigned to join a capture team performing a routine operation in a college town. With my promotion to Lieutenant delayed, I was angry. The diversion likely lost me pay and seniority.

On arrival at the rambling old Victorian spired mansion whose basement housed the forward detention center. I pulled my car into the concrete sunken parking lot hidden behind high overgrown hedges. Walking past vans and squad cars, I passed the outside cage where Mary, who had been one of the instructors at the Institute was in the exterior holding cell, naked clutching to a blanket. Her barrel shaped pregnant belly peeked out from under the cover. A quick shaking of her head advised me not to notice her and to pass on. Hand under her round belly, Mary presented a devilishly cute image.

With such a potentially dangerous prisoner, Cliff and Logan, two young men in the utility uniform, working the yard seemed particularly inattentive.

What had I walked in on?

I paused in front of the door for a second to take a deep breath and ponder: what has the Institute planned for me? At my request, Cliff listlessly escorted me to Sergeant Jenny's office. Entering the basement, I found myself in a well -- light cinder block walled corridor leading to an alcove containing a tailor's octagonal platform engirded by a mirror with six facets lit by a blinding overhead light. "Hmm," I told tall tough Cliff, "a spotlight on the guest of honor." Directed to Sergeant Jenny's office, I properly knocked and awaited Sergeant Jenny's permission.

Invited into Segreant Jenny's office, I, though still gripped with rage over disruption of my plans, strove to contain my anger in order to present a cool exterior. Sergeant Jenny was warm in her approach, thankful for my understanding of the need for the diversion.

"You've been described by Dr Crenshaw as the only person he could imagine capable of taking over in a pinch," Jane opened with a compliment.

"I was under the impression your sister Jane was on this mission with you," I protested, "She went through the security school with me. Jane should be equally qualified to take charge."

"We are faced with a unique situation in River Bend. A wave of layoffs running through the college and hospital in River Bend, the surge in defaults, and the breath of our investigation, has stretched me thin." Jenny advised me. "On top of the usual run of college students who outspend beyond their capacity to repay, as the hospital and University convert from a salaried workforce to indentured labor, I now have to deal with a slew of cooks, clerks, secretaries and young marrieds, pregnant women caught up in the downdraft.

"Other than a surge in numbers," I replied, "the mission sounds routine. Certainly, something your sister Jane could deal with ...easily. But why do you need someone to take over?" I asked suspiciously. "Is there a reason you do not wish to see the investigation through?"

"It's the curse of having been indentured to the Institute by my father," Jenny replied, "when I was in Nursing School and allowed to continue until graduation. With Mary, whom you see outside and other pregnant women we pick up likely to go into labor, I have to be available. Now," Jenny, taking a breath, suggested," I 'd like to take a bit of the sting out of your diversion here. Let's get your promotion picture taken."

Pointing the way, Jenny commanded, "Out in the corridor, get your butt up on the tailor's platform and get your clothes off."

As I stepped onto the raised octagonal platform,.I declared, "Cute and functional. A tailor's platform to define where indentured slavery begins and freedom ends. Where did the idea come from?"

"According to legend," Jenny explained, "a tailor was repossessed along with his property. That came here."

I chuckled, "Likely, when that platform came here, his inventory ended up split between Institute Headquarters and our thrift shops. After meeting the surgeon for eh--alterations, the tailor was shipped to auction."

"LT Bernie's likely fate. That brings us to the real mission in River Bend," Jenny raised the real purpose of the diversion, "Start getting your clothes off."

Removing my jacket and folding it, I asked, "After my clothes are off, do I end up behind the wire with Mary?"

Drawing a deep breath, Jenny opened a file folder and gazed at a glossy official photo of a nude man, "Now I can see you're prepared to discuss the real problem."

Jenny passed me the picture depicting a six-foot-tall young man. Curly black hair coated his naked body. Jenny scrutinizing the throbbing erection depicted in LT BERNIE's official photo, observed, "Lt Bernie holds a magic sway over men and women."

"Shouldn't I insist you strip naked and join me?" I snickered as I unbuttoned my blouse and swept it off my shoulders. Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra and slipped it off, letting my DD breasts bounce in front of her eyes. "We can celebrate my promotion upcoming by cumming together."

Looking over the official photo of LT Bernie with a full blown erection, Jenny acknowledged,

"As much as I prefer girls, I'd ride his spigot, with or without you." Jenny took a deep breath. "As much as I'd like to announce your promotion today and celebrate..."

Picking up my blouse and folding it carefully, I teased her, "I can see why you would want to restrain men on your team in chastity to keep them from thinking with the wrong head. I suppose LT Bernie's crime is greater than displaying his capabilities in his promotion photo. "

Jenny looked thoughtfully for a second. "LT Bernie defected from the last round -- up in River Bend. His departure was accompanied by security breach in the Institute's computer system."

"So, LT Bernie knows our moves before we've thought of them," I declared.

"LT Bernie's target audience is the same as ours," Jenny advised, "He trawls through debtors who've received their notices and promises them a career in porn. Times are such Bernie can sell horny men porn at top price while desperate women come cheap. Intell reports Bernie's contacts are random. We are unable to tie LT Bernie to a specific location."

"That brings us to the question. In fighting a traitor who has no known location, who can anticipate our every move, our protocols, what assets do I have?" I asked.

"Cliff and Logan, testosterone powered strong fellows, in tip top physical shape fresh out of the demanding security school," Jenny explained.

"Cliff and Logan, the two men in utility uniforms, I saw cleaning vans and squad cars," I noted, "when I pulled my car into the sunken parking lot out back. Regrettably they're not very attentive, not very observant of the dangers presented by the prisoner in the cage..."

Jenny conceded with a sigh, "That's Cliff and Logan -- they're green, first assignment. Thus far," Jenny defended Cliff and Logan, "they have been able to handle female prisoners, but I admit, they must be monitored to insure discipline."

Standing bare -- breasted hand on my hips in front of Jenny, I allowed her a moment to admire my double DDs before I folded my jacket, shirt and bra.

Jenny politely turned away, although tall lanky Cliff standing behind her followed every undulation of my bare breasts as I breathed. An erection blossomed in the bottoms of his pants, evident despite the loose fit.

Carefully placing my clothes on the platform, I quipped, "I'm trusting you that I'll be allowed to put this on at some point. I won't wear wrinkled clothes."

"I'll scarf you up," Jenny promised, "a utility uniform so that you don't ruin your dress uniform in this dingy dank, damp dungeon."

"And Jane, your sister?" I asked.

"Jane is detached working with an informer who had been approached by LT Bernie, No results yet." Jenny noted.

Unzipping my skirt, I allowed it to float to the floor. After folding the skirt and placing it atop my blouse, I kicked my loafers off, dropped my panties and slid my stockings down my legs, presenting full -- frontal view to Jenny for the first of four views of my body.

Jenny took note, "I see why you arrived in a huff. You had your bush trimmed for your elevation party."

Cliff, standing behind Jenny, looked pained by the waves of spasms viewing my bare body was sending through him.

"I suppose," I sighed, "during a lively romp with the director and the bull and heifer of my choice, a full bush might have been an unnecessary distraction.--Before I get distracted. Our most experienced agent Mary has been stripped naked and confined behind the wire, bulging pregnant belly dragging the ground, ready to drop her load," I paused. "I'd love to know why you're holding her."

"Hopefully I can persuade Mary to go under cover and assist in gathering intelligence from an expected haul of pregnant females," Jenny replied, "LT Bernie is said to be eclectic in taste for women in porn. Maybe we can fix a location on Bernie."

"So, if Mary's role is limited and so too, is Jane's, I'm elected," I declared, "Mama to shepherd testosterone driven inexperienced boys through a mission of uncertain long term objectives."

"Dr Crenshaw assured me," Jenny tried to assuage my ego, "you were the most capable person to deal with the constraints of these -- parameters. You would soon figure out the necessity of them. "

I sighed, "The first rule is to know your assets and their potential. Here one experienced agent is beyond my direct control. The other Mary can't be trusted. Not a good omen for this mission.

"Officially, Mary, as you know, lost her stripes on the last mission to River Bend," Jenny leaned forward to advise me as if she feared someone was lurking nearby to overhear us, "The Institute retained Mary; officially because she agreed to be inseminated."

"You expect different. Did Mary return to the Institute from her previous mission pregnant? Whose?" I asked.

Jenny bit her lip, "Mary was demoted but retained by the Institute. Others on her team weren't so lucky. They went naked, head shaved to auction. What in Mary's relationship with LT Bernie that would incline the Institute to keep her and jettison others on her team? I've been left to guess."

"Often the simple solution is the best. Why not ask Mary?" I suggested.

"Just call Mary in," Jenny questioned, "to ask Mary: `Hey Mary are you a spy?'" Jenny's face bore a tired look.

"There is no other choice," I insisted.

"I'll call Mary in but let's finish your photos." Jenny ordered.

After I presented my posterior, I felt a tingle when Jenny, running her fingers along the ridges in the mark burnished into my left hip, in an apologetic tone, noted, "good clean branding easily read, "Tina, age 25, barcode 2030VF0651, voluntary indenture -- 7 years, classified security prom LT accepted 10 yr commitment genetic class 1 fertility class a."

"I was an 18 year old girl, just out of school when I volunteered for an indenture. Stripped naked, poked and prodded by a doctor, I bent over to present my butt for branding. Smelling my flesh burning from the red-hot branding iron, I screamed," I reminisced, "what have I gotten myself into!"

"You'll ask that question again once I pin those yellow bars on you," Jenny declared, "You haven't trimmed your bush in vain. I'll try to organize an elevation party for you. We'll invite the Institute Director, but I doubt he'll come."

I slung my arm around her, "You're terrible."

"Let me find you a utility uniform so that you can dress before I decide whether to start the celebration or charge you with assault on a sergeant," Jenny placed a peck on my cheek.

"I'd prefer to remain naked while I take my tour of the facility," I decided to remain naked to test Cliff who thus far remained at the edge of cumming. How much longer could he hold it?

"A few minutes ago you were afraid, I wouldn't afford you the courtesy of allowing you to dress. No matter, stay naked, if you wish to entice me. It'll save some time," Jenny chuckled, "I'd just have to order you to strip for your promotion physical."

"There's a reason. I'd like to feel what the indenturees we'll seize will feel confined down here for as much as 24 hours." I questioned, "Do we really need to keep them naked?"

"The Institute decides," Jenny insisted gruffly. "That's the procedure. Enforced nudity not only discourages escape, it impresses on the indenturee the change of status, correction loss of status."

"A free person no longer," I declared.

"The reduction of the person begins in reception on the platform," Jenny explained, "the prisoner, if cooperative, is un-manacled, stripped, and searched. Then sent into the dungeon."

"Kept naked," I observed, "to magnify their discomfort."

"If we protect our product, the indenture, from assault or abuse, it is to preserve their value at auction. Their comfort is not a priority." Jenny pointed the way down the corridor. "Shall we proceed?"

We walked up to a secure door which Jenny opened with a code on her notepad. "Abandon hope all ye who enter here: Welcome to the dungeon."

The door opened onto a large open area. Pointing to the far wall, Jenny noted. "We generally hold females in the Hen House, the cage on the North wall; the males ordinarily are held in a cage on the south wall." Standing in the center of the room, Jenny pointed up to the rafters where a rope dangled down. "And," Jenny sighed, "every round up produces someone who'll test the limits."

"Bringing in LT Bernie guarantees a disciplinary problem," I feared. "Still, a prisoner must be correctly treated and humanely kept as certainly as punishment must be swift and sure to enforce order."

I approached the fence of the henhouse and tried to shake it., "Pretty sturdy for a Chain link fence. Solidly rooted in the concrete below and reinforced timbers above," I noted. I glanced behind me. My boobs jiggling as I shook the cyclone fence sent that erection in Cliff's utility bottoms throbbing.

In front of the Hen House there was a single spigot over a slight depression in the concrete in the center of which there was a drain. "Seeing as how you're dressed for the part, you might like to try it out," Jenny baited me, "It has two settings for your comfort: Cold and Artic cold." Jenny teased me, "Not interested in a refreshing shower."

"Not unless you order it," I returned the compliment.

Directing my attention to the other cage, Jenny explained its purpose, "Usually, the capons that fall into the net in the round-up will be crammed into that holding area."

"Did you ever," I queried, "wonder why the Institute focuses on rounding up women and not men? It doesn't seem very fair."

"The Institute decides on the risks it wishes to take," Jenny asserted. "in relation to the expenses incurred in a recovery and the difficulty in bringing the product to market. Women fetch higher prices at auction, are easier to control and surrender without a fight. Our job is to implement the Institute's directives not to debate them. An indenture, taken up by the Institute, is a commitment to do whatever the Institute has required."

"And this would include putting Mary naked -- or even your sister Jane or better yet me -- in the Hen house behind the wire with Indenturees," I parried with Jenny.

"If that's what the Institute or the needs of the mission require." Jenny an angry tone entered her voice. "Too many volunteers who sign an indenture in exchange for a payout seven years hence treat the Indenture as a job -- It's not. The voluntary indenture is no different than being sold into servitude by a parent or being repossessed after defaulting on a debt secured by your person; a volunteer is a subject."

"Then you see no difference between volunteers, people impressed into service by head of their household, and people who contract loans they can't repay and must be repossessed and forced to serve," I continued to fence with Jenny, "Interesting observation."

"Both volunteers and repossessed end up with a bar code on their butt. Yet, there is an important difference. A volunteer, such as yourself -- or my sister Jane -- gave up your freedom for a future benefit, food, clothing shelter and a pay out at the end of service; a repossessed debtor traded their person as security and assumed the risk that they'd be able to pay back."

"I suppose that's why the Institute prefers volunteers for the officer caste," I countered.

"But it leads to situations like we have with LT Bernie," Jenny's voice now carried a slow introspective tone. "Where the Institute sends me on a mission, but leaves certain critical details cloudy."

Abruptly, turning to find tall lanky Cliff behind us, Jenny chuckled. "Tina, in this business you must develop eyes in the back for your head" before Sergeant Jenny roared an order, "Cuff Mary, bring here to my office, now."

"Should I search her?" Cliff asked.

"Good question," Jenny replied in a gentle tone, "Just a frisk, gently massage her breasts, her belly, her back and her butt, read her bar code, nothing more," Jenny ordered. Answering my unvoiced question, Jenny turned to me with the suggestion, "Tina, could you remain naked for just a while longer? Poor Mary might feel just a little more comfortable."