Scapegoat

The courtroom was hushed. The sober-looking judge eyed the attractive middle-aged woman who stood at attention behind the defendant's desk.

"You understand the full implications of your request, Ms. Harris?"

The redheaded woman swallowed and responded,

"Yes, your honor."

"You do have the right to act as a substitute for your daughter. Do you understand the full implications?"

"Yes, your honor, I do."

"This means, of course, that there will be no trial regarding your daughter's guilt or innocence. You volunteering to be substitute means that the full punishment will fall on you and the sternest penalty will be meted out."

"I am aware of that, your honor."

"You will not leave this chamber as a free woman."

"Your honor, I am a mother. I would do anything for my daughter, even take her punishment."

"This is not a simple jail sentence, Ms. Harris. Penal slavery means you will lose all rights for the length of your service. It is designed to be as demeaning and humiliating as possible. There is no time off for good behavior. Your daughter is accused of corporate embezzlement, mail fraud, tax evasion, and stock manipulation. According to federal sentencing guidelines, you are looking at fifteen years of penal slavery."

"I understand, your honor."

"Have you been briefed on the specifics, Ms. Harris?"

"Yes, your honor."

The judge sighed inwardly. At some point, a parent had to let their children fail. The daughter's slate would be wiped clean. Would she ever appreciate the depth of her mother's love to do such a thing for her? Would the daughter learn nothing and continue down new paths of malfeasance? Would the mother's sacrifice mean nothing? Not even Solomon in all his wisdom could not answer those questions. The life of a slave for a woman like this? From PTA meetings to high school graduations to plans for being the mother-of-the-bride, to naked collared property sold to the highest bidder. He had seen her daughter's ilk before. Ms. Harris was making a tremendous mistake!

"This is your last chance to back out Ms. Harris."

The woman's eyes met the judges. A tremor tore through her body. She fought back tears but remained resolutely silent.

"Very well." The gavel came down. "In accordance with the rules of this nation and state, this court has no option but to accept the offer of Ms. Eloise Harris as substitute and penalty bearer for the defendant, Ms. Diane Harris, to serve the entirety of her daughter's possible sentence. In this case fifteen years as chattel slavery. This court is convinced as to the sincerity of Ms. Eloise Harris and does not believe that she is taking this penalty under mental duress or for insincere reasons. It is so ordered this day of September." The gavel rapped a second time.

The hush in the courtroom broke. Eloise was allowed to embrace and kiss her daughter before the bailiffs led her away.

The unsympathetic female court official steered the still-trim forty-four-year-old housewife into a side room with "Processing" marked on the door. Keeping things convenient, the central downtown courthouse also had prison facilities. Slaves were sold off the loading dock in the back.

Eloise's photograph was taken as were her fingerprints. Her irises were scanned. There was a brief interview. Then came the command Eloise had been dreading.

"OK, slave. Strip! everything, and I do mean everything goes into this cardboard box. Once you are naked, I am going to search you intimately. Then it's off to the showers, a nice stinging delousing then you get a stylish cell until noon tomorrow when you go on the auction block."

Eloise was weeping piteously. She seemed frozen in place.

"Can the waterworks, honey. What did you think was going to happen? You told the judge you did."

"I- I I'm sorry it's just so overwhelming."

"Tough shit! Now start stripping or I'll call some of my male colleagues in here and they will cut your clothes off. They LOVE doing that!"

Still weeping, Eloise stepped out of her shoes.

"Put 'em in the box!"

Eloise bent and retrieved her shoes.

"Blouse!" barked the bailiff.

Eloise's trembling fingers went to the buttons of her expensive blouse which her daughter had gifted her on her birthday just a few months ago. The fabric parted revealing a large-cupped sturdy bra and a trim flat tummy with almost no sag from having given birth.

"Skirt!"

Eloise unfastened the button in the rear of her navy calf-length skirt and shimmied out of it revealing spectacular pins, a wasp waist, and an enchanting booty.

"Damn," thought the bailiff, "I hope I look half as good when I'm this broad's age!"

Eloise watched as her clothes were inspected and then neatly placed in the box.

"Bra, slave."

Eloise unclasped her bra, loosing her magnificent tits. She tried to shield herself with one hand while she handed over the brassiere with the other.

"Modesty? Slaves like you are sold buck naked. Sales are broadcast on the Internet. Everyone on the planet is going to see everything you have tomorrow at noon."

More tears streamed down Eloise's cheeks.

"Last bit, woman."

The striking redhead wriggled out of her aqua panties. They joined the rest of her clothes.

"Jewelry, starting with those earrings."

With trembling fingers, Eloise removed them.

"Necklace."

Off came her most treasured object. he locket that contained pictures of her daughter and late husband as well as a lock of his hair. If only Bob was alive, she thought. He could have talked sense into Diane before things got so bad. Diane always listened to her father.

"Now those rings," came the almost bored voice, breaking her brief reverie.

Eloise's face screwed up when she realized what she had left, her college class ring on her left hand and her wedding and engagement ring on her right hand, denoting her status as a widow.

With a mighty sob, Eloise handed them over.

The box was sealed with tape and a shipping label was placed on it. Eloise noted that the destination of her worldly possessions was her daughter's address. Her next of kin, and at noon tomorrow, she would not even be that. Slaves had no past, no relatives, no one at all, they just were property. Property of the state and leased by their owners. For the next fifteen years, her life would not be her own. She would not even own her skin!

"OK, slave. Hands on your head, legs spread."

Eloise felt a violation like no other as she was probed both before and aft by latex-clad fingers. Naked, she was led down a hall to a shower room where she was ordered to wash herself all over with fungicidal soap. Still wet she was dusted head to toe with sneeze-inducing delousing powder. No sooner had Eloise recovered from that humiliation than she was bent over a table and a bar code was inscribed on her right butt cheek via a tattoo needle by a man who clearly enjoyed his work. From there she was flung naked into a single cell.

"Don't I get something to wear?" she asked.

"What's the point, Red?" came the answer, "You're going to be sold in your birthday suit. What difference would a few hours in a jumpsuit make? It would only be something else for the county to wash and our laundry bills are high enough already."

In the solitary confines of her cell, Eloise wrapped herself in toilet paper and then threw herself on the firm, unyielding cot and cried and cried.

Sometime later, a male guard slid a pasteboard tray with unappetizing food and a bottle of water into her cell. Despite everything, Eloise could not deny her hunger. She ate the plain fare, slowly and deliberately with her wooden fork and saved most of the water for later. Somehow, after she returned to the cot, she tumbled into slumber. Her dreams were not pleasant.

At an ungodly hour of the morning, guards woke her by pounding their nightsticks on the bars. Sleepy-eyed and mortified, she allowed them to lead her to a side room. There were couches, Danish, and bad coffee. Other naked men and women were led into the room behind her. The expression on every face was universal, glum despondency.

To avoid gazing at the copious nudity, Eloise focused on the walls. Posters explaining proper behavior for slaves as well as their minimal rights lined the walls. This is really happening, she reminded herself. A somewhat hard-looking woman, about a decade younger than Eloise, grasped her elbow to strike up a conversation.

"What are you in for, hon?"

"Nothing, I'm a replacement for my daughter," supplied Eloise after an interval.

"Oh, a couple of years and out then?"

"No, fifteen!"

"Seriously? What did your daughter do? Did she kill a senator or something?"

"No, she launched a business venture and scammed some wealthy people out of a lot of money."

"Yeah, rich people's law, steal all you want from the poor but fuck with rich folks and Lady Justice stomps all over you with her dainty sandaled feet! You must really love your daughter."

"More than anything. I hope she recognizes me when all of this is said and done."

"If she's a decent person, she'll be waiting with a bouquet of roses, a box of chocolates, and lots of hugs."

"I'm sure she will be. Why are you here?"

"I helped my boyfriend knock over a bank. I had my choice, five years of slavery or twelve years in prison. No way am I going to the stir for that long."

"You don't seem terribly upset," observed Heloise.

Hey, I've turned tricks before. How bad can spreading your legs and sucking cock be? Only now I won't get any compensation for it. Even a half-decade of pretending to be a dyke is better than rotting away in a cell. Slaves get exposed to sunshine and the real world; you know."

"I've never even had a speeding ticket!" exclaimed Eloise.

"Oh, honey, are you in for a rude awakening!" Her soft chuckle after speaking that sentence, had Heloise's heart tumble from orbit.

After a few hours, guards turned up at the door of the room and began extracting the prisoners in what appeared to be random order. This continued. A pair entered, they looked over the room and at the clipboard they shared.

"Is that her?" one asked the other as they stood in front of Eloise.

"Tell you in a sec." He pulled Eloise out of her couch as she gasped in surprise before he spun her around and bent her double. He then read off the number tattooed on Eloise's butt.

"Yeah, that's her!"

Together the two dragged Eloise out of the room, down a long hallway, and out to the brilliant sunshine of the loading dock. The protrusion of concrete was abuzz with activity. Folks of all races and sexes stood gazing upwards as guards made naked human beings for sale walk in a small chalk circle at gunpoint. To one side stood an auctioneer. On a platform built into the portable stairs that served as the exit to the loading dock stood two hooded figures with various-sized composite and titanium rings ready to affix one around the neck of each newly enslaved person as they formally entered captivity.

Eloise almost wet herself as she watched the prisoner before her, a stocky young man with lots of tattoos, aside from the new one on his buttocks, walk defiantly in the proscribed circle. Eloise knew she shouldn't be judgmental, but the man's extensive body ink and cavalier attitude convinced her that this was not the young man's first intersection with the law.

Eloise noted that large men in the shipping industry baseball hats and businessmen in suits were bidding on the young man. She remembered from a news story she had seen that most moving companies these days used slave labor to cut costs. Contractors also used slaves for jobs like demolition and scrap hauling. She imagined that this young man's future would echo his past except that for however many years his sentence lasted, he would receive no salary. The young man progressed to the landing and was collared. Eloise watched a prosperous man in a suit jacket with a logo on it led the man away. With a start, Eloise realized she was next to be sold.

The tears flowed as she walked the circle. Never had she felt as naked. Never had she felt such utter shame and a sense of helplessness. All that lay ahead of her was a sea of terrifying unknowns. The auctioneer went into his spiel. Tears obscured everything as Eloise was conscious only of the beating of her own heart. It seemed so loud to her that she felt sure it would batter its way out of her rib cage. She heard the word "Sold!" and her knees went out from under her. She was supported by guards as the collar was affixed around her neck. Someone clipped a leash to the collar (Her collar!) and tugged. Eloise wiped her eyes and encountered a young man not much older than her daughter.

"Easy, Red," he said with a dry smile. "I won't bite. At least not out here in public!"

He was neither handsome nor plain, quite ordinary to be honest. He was wearing a T-shirt of a professional sports team that Eloise's late husband rooted for and a pair of neat khaki shorts. There was a flashy ring on the third finger of the hand which held the leash (Her leash!) He tugged on the leash and somehow Eloise's feet followed the tug. The young man passed through the crowd with his newly acquired property to slaps on the back and calls of "Way to go, kid!" and "Congrats" by the almost exclusively male crowd surrounding the loading dock.

Moving in a daze and hyperventilating, Eloise scarcely noted that she was led across the street in full view of people to a civic parking garage. She and the young stranger rode an otherwise empty lift to the fifth floor. She found herself in the passenger seat of a high-end sport utility vehicle. She was buckled into place by the stranger. His hand compressed her left boob in the process.

"Relax, Red." His hand squeezed her thigh and then ran the length of it to her knee. "You're in good hands. I adore MILFs! I have a hunch that you clean up real nice!"

Then he chuckled and put the car in gear.

The expensive sound system in the car issued raucous rap music at a high volume. The vehicle weaved its way out of the parking garage and, a short time later, they were on the highway speeding toward the suburbs. Eloise looked up and was horrified to realize that an overweight trucker was looking down at her! She hastily covered herself. The young man laughed and said,

"You're going to have to get used to that, Red!" He pulled ahead of the tractor-trailer and approached an exit ramp.

Eloise couldn't help but notice that the car was in a nice neighborhood of tree-lined streets.

"Home sweet home!"

It was a nice house. He pulled into the garage which closed behind them. He walked to her side of the Honda and helped her out. The cement floor was cool under her bare feet. A moment later they were in the kitchen then the living room. He sat her down on a couch and he sat on the ottoman in front of her. He was clasping both her hands in his.

"We'll take things slow, Red. I'm in no hurry. I do expect obedience and a good attitude. I'd hate to break out the thumbscrews and nipple clamps and watch those instructional videos on how to break a slave on Pornhub. Don't give me excuses to."

His words penetrated. She nodded.

"I'll bet your day sucked. Why don't you take a shower while I order a pizza?"

"OK," was her first word.

The bathroom had a large free-standing, all-glass shower stall. The water was hot. There was expensive body wash and shampoo and conditioner that Eloise usually couldn't afford. She took a good long time.

"When she stepped out of the shower, she discovered a dress neatly folded on the commode lid. She dried herself with the thick cotton towel. A hairdryer and brush were visible on a shelf. She finished with her hair. Her stomach was still a knot of questions and anxieties. He's so young! She thought. She put on the dress and accompanying lacy thong. It was very short. Embarrassingly short. It was also designed for a less busty woman. Her breasts filled the built-in cups of the dress to overflowing. Eloise wondered if the dress had been left behind by an old girlfriend of her young master.

"Get a move on, Red" came his voice. Was there a speaker in the bathroom?

She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as she exited the bathroom. His eyes took her in in that dress. They lit up. He smiled.

"I knew you were a major fox! Do you want pepperoni or mushroom?"

"Mushroom," was her second word.

They were seated at a small table in the kitchen, him opposite her. The pizza was good.

"What's your name, Red?"

"Eloise," was her third word. She wanted to add her last name but realized that she no longer had one.

"Eloise?" He frowned, "Sounds old-fashioned. I think I'll call you Ellie. Care for some Coke, Ellie?"

He poured her a glass.

"I'll give you the tour when we are finished eating. I'll also give you a rundown of what I expect. One thing I will expect is lots of blowjobs. MILFs excel at those."

She made no comment. He was so young!

Under the table, his left hand was on her knee.

"Once you are settled and ready for it, I have to hear all the details of prison. What's it like to be processed and strip-searched, all the juicy details."

She blanched but nodded.

"You are really built, Ellie. I mean, I went to the auction today hoping to score a reasonably attractive MILF but you are a truly gorgeous woman with a great rack. Looks like my amazing luck and knowing when and where to strike has come through again. Can you cook?"

Her first sentence, "I'm an excellent cook."

"Cool! But I'll mainly want you for sucking and fucking. Everything else is just gravy."

Eloise died a bit more inside.

"You can call me Sir or Boss. Master sounds like a golf tournament and I don't feel comfortable with you using my first name. You'll find I'm generally laid back. I hope we can get in sync quickly. I'll take care of you so long as you take care of me."

He paused, "Would you like another slice of pizza, Ellie?"

Eloise nodded. She wiped her hands on the cotton napkins provided, took a sip of the soft drink, and gathered up another slice of pizza. It really was good pizza.

"You'll share my bed of course. There are extra bedrooms though, in case I score a date with a supermodel or a Lakers Girl." He chuckled and squeezed her thigh.

"What was your crime?"

"I'm a replacement for my daughter."

"Brave woman. Daughter. That certifies you as prime MILF material."

Eloise flushed. This lad was certainly forthright!

For the next interval of time, the middle-aged woman and the lad just past adolescence ate their pizza slices in silence. When they were finished, the young man took Eloise's hand and said, "Let me give you the two-dollar tour."

He pulled Eloise to her feet. "The kitchen, dining room, and main bathroom you have already seen." He urged her forward. "Here's the laundry room where you will be spending some time. Here is the living room, which I actually don't use all that much. Here is my man cave slash office. Eloise was startled by the size of the room. An entire wall was big screen televisions. There was a desk with an office chair and computer as well as a long leather couch. Eloise was stunned to see on the opposite wall, framed magazines with the lad on the cover! There was a Sports Illustrated, a Forbes, a Las Vegas Life, and Gambler's Companion. The young man noted where Eloise was looking.

"Yes, I'm famous in a way. I successfully predicted the entire bracket of the NCAA Playoffs for the big dance."

Eloise looked at him blankly.

"Basketball? The Final Four?" Eloise's blank look continued.

"Anyway, I was the only person to win the contest sponsored by a Las Vegas Casino. Not only did I predict every upset, I came amazingly close to the final scores numerous times. The odds against winning were astronomical and the payout proportional. It wasn't just luck; I have a nose for sports betting and that's how I make my living. Betting pays me very well. When I scored my big payday, I emulated the advice of my favorite rapper when he got his first big record contract. The first thing he did was hire a team of accountants to manage his money and make shrewd investments. The next thing he did was hire a second group of accountants to keep an eye on the first group of accountants. The upshot is that I'll never have to work for a living."