Civil Penalty Pt. 09

This story is set in the legal slavery universe created by joe_doe_stories and Carl_Bradford. If you are offended by legal slavery stories, or if you have strong feelings that slavery stories should conform to the way you think slavery should be portrayed, please do not read this story and keep looking for something you will enjoy.

Parts of this story are non-consensual/reluctant. Everyone engaged in sexual activity is over 18.

This final chapter is a collaboration with Gortmundy, who wrote the second half of the chapter. I highly recommend his 'The Tattooed Woman' series on Lit.

Last modified 13 October 2023

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Recap: Elizabeth Cartwright, the CTO of Absconditus, Inc., was forced to agree to a civil penalty with the SEC after being accused of insider trading. As part of her punishment, she was required to spend six months spending her days as a clothed slave working for her previous employer and the evenings as a naked collared sex slave.

Beth returned from a slave camp where she was trained in various sexual skills. For the first three months, she was sexually available to employees six days a week. As a concession, she is now available only on Saturdays.

Despite the traumatic experience of being enslaved, Beth wonders if her enslavement was part of a larger bid-rigging conspiracy involving Absconditus. She is determined to uncover the truth and bring those responsible to justice.

***

Elizabeth Cartwright's POV:

The clock chimed six, and I double-checked the time on my laptop. It really was 6 p.m., and I started to become nervous. This meeting at Bolling AFB was to answer technical questions about our bid for the next big project and had been expected to end by 4 p.m. The strictly technical nature meant that I was the most senior person from my company present, and there had been no way to avoid attending.

When 6:30 came around, my nervousness began edging towards outright panic. If I didn't leave here in the next few minutes, I would be legally required to endure the extreme humiliation of stripping naked in the meeting on a military base with a thousand horny men around me.

I did everything in my power to wrap the meeting up. I closed my laptop and said, "Well, we're done for today, and I absolutely have to get back to the office by 7 p.m." That achieved nothing. The military members of the committee doubled down on questions to which they wanted detailed technical answers.

6:50 came and went, and a sick dread spread through my gut and pooled between my legs. They knew! They knew that if they could drag this out for ten more minutes, I would have to strip naked and spread my legs for them. I stood up and headed for the door, "I'm sorry, Gentlemen, but I absolutely have to leave RIGHT NOW."

If I hurried, I could just make it to my car by 7 p.m. and strip naked there. But before I managed to take even a couple of steps towards the door, I was stopped by Major James Ryan, who grinned as he spoke, "Unfortunately, it seems we still have significant questions. If your company really wants this sale, then you're obliged to stay and address those issues to our... satisfaction."

One of my engineers, Franklin de Santis, turned to me in agreement, "Beth, I concur that we still have unfinished business here, so we need to stay until we're done."

I was paralysed by fear. What the Hell was I to do? This was a multi-billion-dollar sale; surely, they were bluffing? I glared at Franklin, only to be met with a lascivious grin, and I knew. The bastard was in on it.

That sickening thought was just sinking in when I ran out of time.

The clock chimed 7 p.m., and Franklin's smile widened. "Strip, slut. Bend over the table and spread your legs," he leaned in close and whispered, "I've been waiting for this all-fucking day."

My traitorous teammate had betrayed me, but legally, I had no choice but to comply. Fingers trembling, I started to remove my jacket and blouse.

"What the fuck is going on?" bellowed Colonel Delano Ortiz, who had only recently been transferred to Procurements and was new to these meetings, "Somebody better have a damn good explanation!"

"This slut is a sex slave. As an Extraordinary Talent slave, she is allowed to be dressed between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. to facilitate her duties and get her work done, but after 7 p.m., she is legally required to be naked and sexually available."

That was Franklin again, who was clearly in cahoots. "We are making her sexually available to the committee as a sign of good faith and to show our commitment to having a long, profitable, productive," he leered, "and above all, satisfying relationship with you over the duration of this project. If you enjoy her services tonight, I will make sure Absconditus makes her available to the committee at future meetings. I have it on good authority from others who have availed themselves that she is an excellent fuck, and extremely talented at oral and anal service, as I'm sure we're all about to discover."

He turned to me, "Keep stripping, slut."

As my black lace bra fell to the ground, it took every ounce of strength I had to be an obedient slave and not use my hands to cover my erect nipples. I thought I had endured the worst at work with the endless humiliations I had already been put through, but this was even worse: stripping in front of a room full of men in uniform, who until mere moments ago had been treating me as a valued peer.

I understood now why attendance had been so high at this meeting. This had obviously all been arranged, and the committee members had come expecting blowjobs or to ride my pussy or, worse, my ass. I suddenly realised that I hadn't prepared for this and hadn't had an enema before coming. If they wanted ass-to-mouth, the added humiliation didn't bear thinking about. I looked at their lust-filled faces and knew they wouldn't be done with me until I had been thoroughly debased right here in the conference room.

Major Ryan had already undone the top of the pants to whip out his rapidly engorging cock. He eyed me as he approached, and his grin was vile.

With a thunderous crash, the Colonel slammed his fist hard on the table, and his angry bellow held such a tone of command that everyone literally froze, "If any of you attempt to use this poor woman sexually, I will have you court-martialled for accepting bribes!"

He was met by a room full of sotto voce protests that he instantly quashed. Glaring at the Major, he coldly announced, "This meeting is over. Now get out!"

By now, I was down to my panties and dreading the next few seconds when my 'schoolgirl' shaved vulva would be displayed prominently. It was probably the residual effects of the Horny Juice that I'd been regularly dosed with during my enslavement, but I could feel my nether lips becoming puffy and wet from the humiliation and my nipples pebbling. Everyone would see my humiliating arousal when I spread my legs, and my face burned with shame.

To my amazement, the Colonel removed the immaculate jacket of his Class A dress uniform, with a salad bar of decorations pinned proudly over his left chest and draped it over my shoulders.

"Ms Cartwright, I find myself ashamed to be saying this, but if you are legally required to be naked, you'd best finish removing your clothes, but don't worry. I am in command here, and despite this disgraceful display from my officers, I will protect you. I'll drive you back to your bedroom or kennels or wherever they have you staying, and I promise, no one on this base will touch you."

I removed my panties and somewhat nervously handed them to him. He momentarily eyed the tiny scrap of lace and fabric, and his lips quirked. He took them from my hand and gave me an almost mischievous wink before slyly sliding them into the pocket of the jacket he had placed over my shoulders.

He bundled up my discarded clothes and high heels, looped an arm through mine, and briskly escorted me out. The Colonel was a good six inches taller than me, and his jacket just reached my vulva, sparing me from the worst of my humiliation as I walked past numerous men and women in uniform and the guards on duty. Whatever they thought seeing an all but naked woman being led from the building, a single glance from the Colonel was enough to discourage comment.

We walked out to the parking spaces, and he led me to what I recognised as a classic 65 Shelby Mustang, a sleek black muscle car that my father had drooled over when I was a kid. And for a moment, it was almost as if I could hear him again, speaking in a tone of nigh reverence as he told me of the power of the 4.7 litre V8 engine under the bonnet of that monster.

The Colonel saw my look and almost blushed, "I, uh, restore cars. It's a hobby, and well, I hope you don't think I'm a big kid, but this thing is my pride and joy."

The engine started with a throaty roar, and I almost felt like a teenager again as the deep bass rumbling sent a flutter through my chest.

He grinned as he got behind the wheel. The childish smile of delight took years off him, and I almost unconsciously felt myself squeezing my thighs together as I tried to hide the strange thrill that I felt, "Where am I taking you?"

"Um, I'm kennelled in the CEO's Penthouse suite at our headquarters. Put Absconditus into Apple Maps, and it will get you there."

The Colonel was clearly embarrassed by what had happened at the meeting and stayed ominously silent as he drove. To break the ice, I checked his wedding ring and tried to lighten the mood by pointing to it and asking, "I hope you won't get into trouble with your wife for having a naked woman in your car."

Clearly, that was the wrong question, as a pained expression crossed his face. "My wife died two years ago from cancer. I wear the ring as I'm not ready for the terrors of dating in my early 50s."

My heart lurched. Reaching out a hand to hold his thigh in comfort, I responded, "I'm so sorry, Delano, I had no idea. You clearly loved her. Tell me how you first met." The rest of the journey disappeared in a flash as he gushed about her beauty and all that he loved about her."

When we got to the office, he made to drop me off at the front door, and I grew flustered.

"Please don't make me walk naked through the building at night. Everyone knows I'm a slave, and literally anything could happen before I get to my rooms." He looked uncomfortable but agreed. We got to the Penthouse door, and I invited him in for a drink. He dissembled while looking longingly at me as I playfully toyed with the collar of his jacket. He tried to hide it, but his desire was written plainly on his face, and the growing bulge in his pants confirmed what I already knew.

I pressed the invite and moved closer to stroke his arm, "I'm forced to have monthly injections of Horny Juice which leave me with a raging libido that needs to be scratched every night. You've been the perfect Gentleman and protected me from a humiliating gangbang. If I'd been forced to have sex with them all, I'd never have dared show my face at another meeting, which is what the conspirators wanted."

"Conspirators? Beth, what happened?"

"With tilted head and lowered eyes, I gave him my most lascivious look. "If you come in and make love to me, I'll tell you the whole sorry, sordid tale."

He looked embarrassed, "I haven't had sex with anyone but my wife in the last twenty-five years and not had sex in the last two years. I fear I'll make a fool of myself."

I unlocked the door, took his hand, and told him, "Well, lately, I've had a lot of experience looking after nervous men and sending them home feeling great. If you're worried about looking the fool, I'm just as terrified of looking like a complete slut and losing what few scraps of self-esteem I have left, so I guess we'll both have to make do," as I pulled him inside. I shyly made eye contact as I slipped his jacket from my shoulders and spun slowly around.

"Do you like what you see?"

His demeanour changed on the spot from that of an unsure schoolboy to a starving man at a meat-laden feast. As I reached out to cradle his face and kiss him, he spun me around against the door as his tongue forcefully devoured my mouth. In seconds, I was utterly undone and surrendered myself to his pent-up sexual needs.

I didn't know if it was the fear of having barely escaped being sexually abused yet again, mixed with the effects of the horny juice and the thrilling sensation of finally meeting someone willing to actually stand up for me and not look at me like I was just some worthless thing to be used, that I all but threw myself at him.

He reached down and undid the top of his pants, letting them fall free. Impatiently, I wrenched his boxer briefs down and coiled my legs around his waist with a growl. I barely got into position when I felt him drive hard into my throbbing wetness. Ye gods, it felt like his cock filled me completely, and my hands clawed at his back as I used my legs to pull every inch of him into me. It was as if some ravenous need drove us, and I screeched as waves of lust engulfed every bit of my core as he pounded me against the doorframe. My pussy throbbed and gripped him rhythmically as my contractions drove his pleasure higher.

Two years of pent-up need emptied themselves deep inside me a minute later as he let out the deepest growling groan I'd ever heard. I felt every pulse of it, and I marvelled he'd even lasted that long after so much time.

"Fuck! Beth! I needed that. I promise round two will satisfy you."

I giggled, "You've filled me so full; the carpet will get messed up if I dash for the bathroom. Walk me there."

His heart-warming smile melted me inside as he supported my posterior with one hand, slid another around my back, and, kicking away his pants, walked me inelegantly to the bathroom as he slowly deflated inside me. Holding my 135 lbs seemed effortless to his disciplined physique. He still wore his shirt, so, frustratingly, I couldn't see the muscles I luridly imagined rippled underneath.

We reached the bathroom, and he set me on my feet. I just had time to lift the toilet seat and position myself before his spent load gushed out, producing pleasant tingles as it went.

He grinned as he peeled off his shirt, letting me see the hardened abs I had longed to admire. Damn, he was ripped! Despite my already heightened arousal, my nipples hardened to the point they hurt as I took in his chiselled form, and the pebbling became proudly visible. A fresh flood of pussy juice sluiced out the remains of his jism as I reached up to feel his taut belly. He was everything I wanted in a lover: tall, ripped, just the right amount older than me, with a firm jaw and a distinguished tinge of grey salting his hair. I saw that my touch was having the desired effect and licked my lips in anticipation.

I stood, cupped his head, and kissed him like it was my last ever kiss. He scooped me off my feet like I weighed nothing and lay me on the kingsize bed. I spread my legs and gave him a wicked look.

"Hungry much?"

"Now, that is the feast I wanted the moment I lay eyes on you earlier today."

He dipped his head, and the first quivering lick of his tongue as he searched for my core promised an evening of mind-blowing orgasms. It was a promise he kept and then some. I lost track of how many times he fucked me from one shattering climax into another or how many times I eagerly took him in my mouth and coaxed him back for another round. It was wonderful. I don't know about him, but by the time we finally finished in the early morning hours, I was completely and utterly spent, absolutely sated, and unable to take another touch of his talented wickedness.

***

Colonel Ortiz's POV

I felt guilty slipping out silently on her, but I knew she desperately needed unbroken sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions she'd endured the previous evening. After finding pen and paper in the kitchen, I scrawled my appreciation of her and left my cellphone number with instructions to call me if she was ever in danger on a military base again. For a long moment, I gazed at the sleeping woman, lying sprawled face-down on the bed. Even now, she looked absolutely gorgeous, and it was so tempting to just get naked again and slide back under the covers and wrap myself around her, but duty called.

The Mustang started with its usual burbling throatiness; this time, instead of centring me down, the deep roar of the V8 crystallised my disquiet about what had happened on the committee. The one internal meeting I'd attended had eight people present, and I'd been told that was typical.

Last night, though, double that had turned up and, based on the lascivious looks they'd given Beth as 7 p.m. approached, they'd known what was going to happen. Worse, one of Elizabeth's engineers had conspired with Major Ryan to betray Beth by keeping her late and forcing her to service the committee members sexually. It stank, and if there was one thing I fucking hated, it was disloyalty.

Nothing in the UCMJ placed limits on the military using sex slaves (I refused to demean them by calling them sluts - it was bad for discipline, and most women had been forced into slavery by debt, convictions, or plea bargains).

All military bases in the continental US and the Pentagon had in-house brothels where safety and hygiene could be maintained and where the sex slaves were rotated every three months between facilities, so there were often fresh faces to enjoy. In a three-year indenture, a slave would have been at a dozen different bases covering all military branches, including the ridiculous Space Force. It was not unheard of for a serviceman to fall in love with one of the slaves and marry her after her manumission. That particular story was as old as time.

But last night had been different and met the UCMJ definition of attempted bribery. I'd have to report what happened to the General - someone I knew thought highly of Beth. I hoped he would involve Internal Affairs in rooting out who had solicited the bribe on our side. Beth had assured me that Franklin would be dealt with severely on their side.

She had related the circumstances of her current predicament to me, and despite trying to remain strong, I saw the tears she was holding back. My wife had always jokingly said that I had a temper lurking under my generally affable demeanour, and as she told her story, I could feel it beginning to bubble away just beneath the surface.

A twinge of anxiety gripped my stomach as I thought about Beth. I hadn't dated since my early twenties and was distinctly out of practice. How could I even date a sex slave logistically? Did I need permission from her owner? Would I be allowed to take her out on dates on the evenings she wasn't 'working', or was she confined in some way? How would I feel about her having sex with clients while I dated her?

And what were the current rules about how long to wait before phoning after a date? I didn't have her number and suddenly feared she would wake up and see me as just another night of scratching her horny-juice-driven itch, or worse, as someone who had just wanted to take advantage. The next few days would be agony as I waited to see if she'd phone. In fact, were slaves even allowed to phone? Fuck!

***

Elizabeth's POV:

I woke at my usual time, wonderfully sore in all the right places, and read his note, which promised me more evenings of unrelenting pleasure if I wished. My insides went gooey from the thought that I had been rescued, like a damsel in distress, by a white knight who wanted to see me again.

Then the negative thoughts came creeping back like a black cloud, 'What if he'd only used me as a sex slave, and it didn't mean anything to him?' No. He'd left his phone number. Surely, that must mean something. I'm terrible at dating; I'd never had time for it in university and had avoided it like the plague as I worked on my career. I had no idea what to do or what the proper rituals were. I fretted for a bit, pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor, and then paused. Grinning, I reached for my work phone and quickly googled, 'How long to wait after a first date to phone'.