Judicial Punishment Lottery Pt. 05

...

Sally felt a little overwhelmed and looked about nervously. The Police and customs people had asked all manner of questions for ever so long and she had blushed in abject shame as she recounted the details of the flight over the Atlantic. She had explained the circumstances of her accumulated debt and the details of her short stay in debtor's prison until her appearance in court. She nodded when she was shown a computerised record of the court judgement sentencing her to four years of 'Class Three' (non-penal) servitude in lieu of debts and destitution. Her auction price was used to repay those same debts and the accumulated legal fees. According to the document, she would be released from slavery after her term had expired, her rights as a free citizen restored, and the outstanding amount left over from her sale would be paid into her account.

The computerised document detailed a surprising amount of information regarding the 'terms' of her enslavement and the things that could. and could not, legally be done to her.

Her owners were responsible for her wellbeing and were legally obliged to see she was properly fed, sheltered and even provided medical treatment. They were prohibited from forcing any permanent body alteration procedure upon her and while corporal punishment and discipline were permitted (she shuddered, oh how it was permitted) any breakage of bone or permanent scarring resulting from such treatment could be considered 'slave abuse' and could mean her ownership might be revoked and she would be resold to another owner.

Her time in the camp during her mandatory slave training had been nothing short of a nightmare as unthinking obedience was simply beaten into every slave. Any and all infractions were dealt with immediately and harshly, and she had been flogged more than once. Slaves had no rights and as such, they had virtually no legal protection, so wardens at the camps could, and did, use the slaves sexually as they saw fit, and Sally's face screwed up in pain as she recalled the first time she had simply been taken and discarded like a piece of meat. That was the first time, but certainly not the last.

Eventually, the flow of questions stopped, and she was handed a small plastic bag containing her passport, and a temporary visa document, and told to wait until her escort arrived. She sat as still as she could for as long as possible but eventually the pressure in her full bladder caused her to squirm and she knew she had to ask, "Excuse me, Sir?"

The customs man looked up from his paperwork, "Huh?"

She hung her head, "This slave begs forgiveness, but I need to use the toilet, I'm sorry."

The man stared at her for a long moment and seeing the expression of horror dawning on his face she squirmed in fear. A look like that meant punishment would soon follow.

"Oh, Jesus fuck! You've been left sitting there for ages, haven't you? Shite! Gimme a second."

Moments later a female customs officer approached and spoke to her gently, "You come with me Petal and we'll get you sorted out okay," she made a contemptuous gesture at the male officers, "these dosey pricks pretty much forgot you existed."

"Hey, I'm sorry, we're waiting for her escor..."

"Just shut the fuck up you muppet! One look at her could tell you she's so fucking scared she wouldn't ask for a cup of water if she was on fire!"

Sally was led to a toilet and washroom and the woman waited outside until she was done. The ex-slave looked in the mirror at her tear-streaked face and wondered at what was to become of her.

Outside she almost went to her knees slave-fashion to thank the officer, but the woman stopped her with a firm hand on her arm, "Nah! None of that. We don't do that here."

"I'm sorry."

The officer shook her head and muttered, "Jesus Christ, what the fuck have they done to you?"

Sally hung her head, "Sorry."

"Huh? Oh no, dinnae be sorry lass. None of this is on you. Come on, we'll go to the canteen and get a cuppa. You hungry? Did you eat on the plane?"

"My Mistress fed me during the flight, I had some fruit and some juice. I'm not supposed to eat too much in case I get fat."

Sally looked on in horror as the customs woman kicked over a chair with an angry snarl before looking back at her with a self-conscious grin, "Er, sorry about that. I've a wee bit of a temper I'm told... er... Nothing to do with you, honest.... I never liked that chair I guess."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Please don't call me that Elizabeth. My name is Victoria, but everyone calls me Vicky."

"Yes, Miss Victoria."

The woman stopped and looked at Sally before giving another sigh, "Baby steps I guess..."

As she was led along another corridor in the building Sally tried to keep her eyes down like she had been trained, but she kept finding her gaze drawn to the female customs officer. The woman chattered away as they walked but her accent was so strange, that she only understood about half of what the woman was saying. She seemed genuinely friendly though despite her outburst with the chair and Sally bit her lip as she summoned up the nerve to ask, "Excuse me, Miss Victoria?"

"Vicky is fine, but that's okay, what's up?"

Sally's voice trembled, "Am I really free?"

The female officer stopped dead in her tracks and turned to the young woman before gently taking hold of both her hands in her own.

"Elizabeth, there's no way I could ever understand what you've gone through in the last year, and I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to understand what's happening, but I swear to you that you are no longer a slave, and if you choose to stay here you never will be again."

"But I still have a collar?"

"Oh, trust me, we're gonna chop that thing off as soon as we find a decent set of bolt cutters. If we have to, we'll take you down to the fire station and we'll get them to hack the bloody thing off. I don't care how, but I guarantee you won't be wearing that fucking thing when you leave here okay?"

"Will the Mistress really go to jail?"

"Oh absolutely, she's totally fucked. She hit a cop right in front of everyone. There's no way she's not going to jail."

"Will they really beat her?"

"Too right they will."

Elizabeth looked up and smiled, "Could I watch?"

"That's the spirit!"

...

The staff canteen was a large area filled with tables and chairs. The furniture was comfortable but functional and it all had a well-kept but worn and well-used look. Windows offering a view of the airport runways ran the length of one wall while a serving counter offering various hot and cold foodstuffs ran the length of the opposite wall. The place smelled of cooking and was busy with workers, mostly sitting in groups and chatting as they drank coffee and ate. The customs officer pointed at a pile of trays and simply gestured towards the food on display with a grin, "Have at it lass, I'm having fish and chips, but you just help yourself and get what you like."

Elizabeth looked almost bewildered for a moment as she picked up a tray and then Vicky laughed as the young woman at first tentatively took a plate of chips and looked around. Seeing nobody chastising her, criticising her choice, or even paying much attention, she then piled the tray with every unhealthy option she could see from cookies to crisps, to chocolate pudding and custard.

"Jesus Christ lass, I'll be impressed if you can eat that lot."

Sally froze with a frightened look, "Is it not allowed? Should I put it back?"

"Fuck no! You eat what you want. I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee, do you want anything? Here, I'll get you an Irn Bru, it's a... what do you guys call them? Oh aye, it's a soda. Wanna try some?"

"Sure, that sounds nice."

Vicky grinned, "Wait till you taste it, you might change your mind."

Elizabeth smiled and then dug into the best meal she'd had in a year. It wasn't that she'd been starved or anything, or even that the food in the canteen was particularly great. It was basic workers' fare in a staff canteen, but it was the first time in a year she could pick what she wanted just for herself and the sensation of freedom she felt at making so simple a choice was exhilarating! She found herself giggling like a little girl as she munched into a cookie, and she eagerly accepted the bright orange drink that Vicky put down in front of her. She took a gulp, winced and then finished the glass.

Vicky burst out laughing at the girl's expression, "Weirdly addictive, isn't it?"

"What the hell is that stuff? It's horri... hmm, you know, maybe it's not that bad, actually, can I have some more?"

Vicky smiled and put down the extra tin she'd been hiding. "Here you go."

Looking at a text on her phone the customs officer nodded, "Looks like your escort is here. Nah, it's okay, just take your time and we'll head back when you're ready."

Sally swallowed nervously, "What's going to happen?"

"Oh, it'll be a copper, don't worry about it. She'll take you to a hotel, or a hostel of some kind and get you settled. Someone will stay with you until somebody from social services arrives, that probably won't be until tomorrow though."

"Can't I stay here with you?"

"Oh, I wish you could Darlin, but I'm working and to be honest there's no place suitable for you here, but I tell you what, once I get done for the day I'll pop in past and see how you're getting on if it's okay with you?"

"Promise?"

"Sure! As long as you're okay with it I'm happ... Mmmph!"

Vicky was almost knocked out of her chair as the terrified young woman lunged forward and desperately wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace.

Looking at the girl's tear-streaked face she couldn't help but hug her back, "Hey, it's okay, really. You're going to be fine I promise."

"Really?"

"Aye, of course, you will. I mean we're not saints or anything and this isn't some wacky utopia. We've got all the same problems as everyone else, and then some, but slavery isn't one of them. And we won't just cut you loose without getting you fixed up first. I mean we're not going to set you up in a palace or anything, but we'll at least get you someplace to stay and make sure you get some kind of benefits allowance to live on."

Elizabeth looked around, "You say it's not a utopia, but it looks a lot like heaven to me."

Vicky laughed, "Well they do a half-decent penne arrabbiata, but I wouldn't go that far."

The young woman reached across to take the officer's hand, "Thank you for this, you can't know what this means to me."

Feeling awkward Vicky blushed, muttering, "It's just fish and chips."

"Not to me."

...

Margo was terrified as she sat in the back of the Police van. Her hands had been handcuffed behind her again and she felt alone and helpless. The Policewoman seated across from her watched her with a vaguely disinterested expression and said nothing. She was tall, lean and not unattractive, her brown hair was pulled in tightly under her cap, and she wore form-fitting body armour. Her utility belt was festooned with an array of formidable-looking equipment and her duty boots looked polished but scuffed. Despite her almost relaxed demeanour, she carried an intimidating, no-nonsense air of competence about her and she certainly did not strike Margo as the sort of person one should take liberties with.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The cop grinned, "Ma'am is it?"

Margo stared and licked her lips nervously, at a loss for words.

The cop sighed, "What's your name?"

"Margo, ma'am."

"Your full name?"

"Margo De Vries ma'am."

"Okay, Mrs DeVries, you don't need to call me ma'am, that's an American thing. We don't really go for the sir or ma'am thing over here, no idea why. It's just one of those things, I guess. Anyway, what is it you want to ask?"

Margo swallowed nervously, "I'm sorry, but I'm scared. Can you tell me where you're taking me?"

"Where do you think I'm taking you?"

The American woman started to cry, "I don't know... One of the men at the airport said I was going to get a "right hiding", that means a beating, doesn't it? Is that what's going to happen now?"

The cop blew out a breath and shook her head sadly, "I'm afraid he's half right I suppose."

Margo whimpered.

"Nothing will happen to you today; nobody will hurt you as long as you behave. We're going to a cell block in the city where you can be processed and booked in. That's also where the facilities are to arrange a consultation with your lawyer and whatnot. You'll be photographed, fingerprinted and all that and placed in a cell. Tomorrow morning you'll go up in front of the Sheriff, that's a kind of judge.

"You've been charged with Breach of the Peace and Assaulting a cop, and from what I hear they're both slam dunks as far as the evidence goes. So tomorrow you can plead guilty or not, that's up to you. If you plead guilty, you'll be sentenced pretty much immediately. If you plead not, then a date will be set for a trial but given you are a potential flight risk it's my guess, and I stress it's just an informed guess, that you'll be kept in custody until the date of the trial."

"Oh, God."

"So eventually you are going to be found guilty of those two charges. There's pretty much no doubt of that. So, a first offence for a Breach of the Peace usually results in a small fine. It's more serious when it happens in an airport because of the setting but essentially, it's a fine of some kind. But the real problem is that you assaulted the cop. My understanding is that it was a pretty minor incident and there was no injury. The Procurator Fiscal, that's like your District Attorney I suppose, can sometimes be persuaded to reduce it to a Resist Arrest, but that's not for me to say.

"A conviction for Assaulting a Police Officer carries a mandatory sentence of ten days correctional therapy in a short-term prison, and that's pretty much the definition of hard time. It also carries a public punishment of upwards of thirty strokes with a cane before you get sent down. With the Breach of the Peace and with it being in an airport and with the involvement of this slave girl I heard about, and when you add up your only defence is you were either drunk, stupid, or both, I think you are looking at a fine, between ten and thirty-days jail time, and a public beating of maybe a couple of dozen strokes with a cane. I'm sorry, but that's my best guess."

Margo was weeping openly by the time the officer finished, but she sniffed back her tears as best she could and looked up at the woman, "Thank you for at least being honest with me."

The cop simply nodded.

The crying woman stared at the floor of the van for a few minutes before looking back up at the Policewoman, "What should I do?"

The woman snorted, "That's not for me to say, ma'am," she grinned at the word, "your lawyer should give you the best advice they can."

"I know, but I think you'll tell me the truth. If you were in my place, what would you do?"

The cop stared into space for a long moment and her brow furrowed, "Well, fuck. I think you're a bit screwed, to be honest. I don't think the Fiscal will drop the Assault, what with all the other crap," looking at the downcast features of the American woman she sighed, "if it was me, I'd hang my head low, apologise as best as I knew how, plead guilty and pretty much throw myself on the mercy of the court. I don't know nothing about the slavery thing though."

"Do you really think that will help me?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"I think if you go to trial they'll fucking crucify you! You'll get fined a thousand quid, you'll get a full thirty strokes with a cane, and probably be sentenced to two years jail time either with or even on top of the ten days of corrective therapy.

"If you take a plea and make an honest apology that the court believes then you might just get a small fine, but more importantly you'll probably only get a dozen or so strokes with the cane and maybe just the ten-day stretch of correctional therapy and maybe a suspended sentence. Now that's still fucking horrible, to be honest, but it could be so much worse. It's also possible you might not get deported and barred from ever re-entering the country if you take a plea, but I don't know if that's even important to you."

Margo nodded sadly, "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Will I have to... will the guards? You know, do they...?

"Will they sexually abuse you?"

Margo nodded as her face burned with shame.

"Does that happen where you're from?"

"I hear stories about the slave camps, where they train the slaves. They say it can be bad."

"Didn't you have a slave? Did she go to one of those camps?"

The American woman stared at the floor and nodded.

For a while the Policewoman gazed at her silently, her eyes hooded and her lips downturned. "You know Margo, you make it easy to dislike you."

Margo whispered, "I'm sorry."

The cop shook her head slowly and drew a breath, "Well, unlike that poor girl you kept as a slave you won't be getting sexually abused. Now I suggest you sit there and be quiet for a bit."

The rest of the journey passed in silence until eventually, the van lurched to a halt and Margo waited apprehensively as the doors at the back were opened. The female cop nimbly jumped down from the vehicle and turned to assist the handcuffed woman.

They were parked in an enclosed vehicle bay and Margo watched in growing fear as the large steel-reinforced doors at the back of the bay slid ponderously closed with ominous finality.

"This way please."

The terrified woman was led through a steel door and into the innards of the building. The cop who guided her held her firmly, but not roughly with a hand around her upper arm. She was escorted into a square room with white painted walls. The room was bare save for a padded bench firmly fixed to one wall and a CCTV camera dome fixed to the ceiling. The cop gestured for her to sit on the bench while she waited by the still open door.

The inside of the building smelled of antiseptic and cleaning fluids. In the distance, she could hear people moving about and strange muffled noises that might have been screams or shouts. Margo's terror mounted and she was literally trembling with fear as she forced herself to sit quietly and wait. Tears trickled down her face and she whimpered quietly at some of the sounds she heard in the distance.

The cop by the door gave her an appraising look and the genuine fear in the woman's eyes made her feel almost ashamed. She thought about it for a long moment as she watched the woman shivering before forcing herself to speak in a gentle voice, "Relax Margo, this place is pretty scary but other than going through the arrest and detention procedure nothing will happen to you. It might be a bit humiliating, but nobody will hurt you, okay? Once it's done, they'll get you settled in a cell and maybe even get you a cup of tea or something."

Margo swallowed and tried to smile as she looked up at the woman. She tried to keep her voice steady, but could still hear the fear as she spoke, "Thank you. And thank you for... for not being mean I guess."

The cop smiled at her, and Margo saw her expression soften very slightly, "Oh, I can be mean enough if I have to be, but there's nothing to be gained by being a bastard just for the sake of it. Just behave yourself while you're here and you'll be fin... Oh, here we go."

The sound of footsteps approaching echoed along the corridor outside and the cop smiled warmly and nodded a greeting to the black-clad woman who entered the room.

"Hey Maggie, how goes it?"

The woman grinned, "June! Long time. I thought you worked in the support unit. You back with us plebs again?"

"Back on secondment for a bit. Just doing a custody transport run. Not normally our kind of gig, but we were available and headed back into the city anyway, so we said we could do it."