Slave Camp Ch. 01

I want to give a nod towards Carl-Bradford, Gentlemanmariner, Joe Doe and others who have written about a society where slavery, especially as a judicial punishment, is legal. This is my take. I have altered some aspects of that world to fit my own preferences. All characters are over the age of eighteen.

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Rhonda felt herself being shaken awake. She was having a very pleasant dream. From her life before. In her dream, she was hosting a dinner party. Of course she had the dinner party catered so she was not stressed with all the dinner preparations. Her friends were all having a lovely time.

Suddenly, she was fully awake and reality had returned along with a sense of urgency.. "Oh shit Derek. Did I oversleep? I never heard my alarm!" she immediately began to explain. "I'm sure I set it right. I double and triple checked it. I set it for every morning..."

"Hush!" Derek ordered. "I got you up a little early this morning. Get up, get dressed. Jeans and whatever top you want." Derek replied evenly. She could see he was already fully dressed. "Brush your teeth and come into the kitchen. I'm going to get a cup of of coffee. Don't be long." he said as he left.

Rhonda slid out of bed quickly. As much as she wanted to ask what was going on, she kept her mouth shut. Derek had told her what to do and then walked away. She knew that meant he was done talking. She knew better than to question him or ask for an explanation. The last time she questioned him he had replied, "Later." She had not liked that answer and in her mind had been very polite when she said, "But Sir, I would like to know." He had immediately stripped her pants down and holding her by the scruff of the neck, blistered her butt with a small acrylic rod until he felt she learned her lesson. She was bawling and apologizing long before he was finished. He had several of those rods laying around the house for easy access.

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Derek had not always given her orders or spanked her if she gave him the slightest excuse to do so. Six months ago, she was the one doing the ordering. Not that she spanked him whenever he was the least bit slow following her direction or made a mistake, of course. She had merely been his supervisor at work.

They used to get along well, in fact. While not close friends they knew much about each other's private lives. Rhonda knew Derek's only son had died in a plane crash two years before, without leaving any grandkids behind. Derek's wife had left him years before that and was now remarried and living somewhere on the east coast. Derek had no close family left. And he had been separated from anybody else in his family for many years. He was an island.

On the other hand, Rhonda had family in spades. She was married with a daughter, Caroline and a stepson Rob who she had raised since her was a little tyke. Her brother and two sisters lived within a fifty mile radius with their children. Not to mention all the cousins.

Her husband Chad and his brother fought hard to keep up with the success of those other cousins. Chad's brother had done well in the used car lot business and was now wealthy. He had morphed his business a bit and taken over a full automotive dealership. Of the three remaining first cousins in the group, one was a lawyer, one an accountant and one a stock broker. All lived in nice homes, drove nice cars and apparently had money to burn.

Of the five cousins, Chad brought up the rear by far if you use money as your measure of success. Which he did. He tried to follow his brother's footsteps and set up a used car lot. He was mildly successful for a while. His problem was he tried to make his money too quick. He bought cheaper and more unreliable cars and then not only sold them to people who had were financially unstable themselves, he financed the cars at a high percentage rate for the extra profit. If a car broke down, usually his customer could not afford to get it fixed. and the car was often abandoned on the side of the road. Or, when the buyer fell behind with their payments Chad would repossess the car and sell it again. Chad thought it a great business plan. He got to resell at least a quarter of the cars he sold. His profits soared for a while. Chad's business ethics left a lot to be desired. His philosophy in business was simple- anything is fair and let the best man win.

The only thing that kept Chad afloat for as long as he managed was because he lucked into finding just enough decent quality cars to sell to keep his business open. That and Rhonda working as a nurse at the local hospital. She was not only a nurse but a highly skilled one at that. Over the years, Rhonda did well and Chad got by. Of course their lifestyle did not reflect their modest family income. They were not just trying to keep up with the proverbial Jones's. They were trying to save face with the cousins and live in a similar fashion. This meant over-extending themselves at every turn.

Unlike his brother, who Chad did not confide in often enough, Chad never really thought details were important. He'd make a plan and set it into motion without considering potential problems. He had always hated school. Even reading was not something he thought was worth his time. As a result, when he saw his brother writing off things like cell phone, home office, travel, going out to eat and a whole slew of other expenses, he did not bother to research the laws. Chad decided he would write off his family's expenses as part of his business.

Unfortunately, the IRS did not agree his expenses were legitimate. He wound up owing the government a butt load of money. On top of this he hit a few snags with his own health. Deductibles and co-pays began to bury him and Rhonda. He managed the family money and by the time Rhonda caught on to their problem, the wolves were at the door.

Looking back, Rhonda could not remember if it was Chad or her who came up with their hare-brained scheme. It did not matter. Both were culpable. One night they were discussing how they would like to get their hands on Derek's money.

Derek was one of those thrifty individuals who saved a large portion of his income. He was open about not wanting to work all his life. He had always said he was looking forward to living comfortably in retirement. He wanted to take cruises and travel the world.

His wife had taken half their communal assets when they divorced so he sold what was left, invested the proceeds and traveled the country. Two years later, he returned and applied for a job as a nurse again. As far as his acquaintances thought, he was essentially starting over financially at the age of fifty. He bought a small, modest home on some acreage and resumed his previous thrifty lifestyle. When asked one time how he expected to ever retire he said he was putting as much as he could into tax deferred accounts and buying stocks. He never seemed to eat in the hospital cafeteria but always brought his lunch. He drove an older, used car. He even reportedly grew most of the vegetables he consumed.

His only extravagance any of the other nurses knew about were his occasional dates. He stayed away from his anybody in his own unit, but did date nurses in other units. Over the years he established the reputation of being a very nice guy who treated his dates well, even taking a few on vacation with him. he was just not interested in a long term relationship.

By this time Rhonda was head nurse and his supervisor. She made more money than him but was constantly broke. On occasion in the break room, she would ask Derek how he managed to save so much of his money. He gave her several suggestions explaining how they worked for him. Unfortunately, one time he revealed just how successful he had been. Combined with his expected social security income he had enough to retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life. He did not reveal that this was on top of the secured trusts he had established for himself and and his son. With the death of his son, those funds had reverted back to him.

One night after reviewing their growing debt, Rhonda had made the comment to her husband she wished she could get her hands on Derek's savings. Just his house, bank account and recent retirement fund would not only get them out of debt but give them a nice nest egg for the future. What started as idle speculation turned into her and Chad plotting a way to do just that.

Rhonda invited her three senior staff over to her home late one afternoon, purportedly to discuss the upcoming unit move. The whole critical care unit was set to occupy newly constructed facilities with a larger number of beds which meant more staff. She wanted to discuss personnel changes. In front to of the others, Rhonda asked Derek to stay behind to discuss his retirement plans. The others knew he planed to retire soon and they had each been told privately, Rhonda wanted to convince him to stay for a while to help with the transition. That was part of the setup.

An hour later Chad got home to find his wife bound over one of her kitchen chairs. Rhonda had each appendage secured with zip ties to the chair legs, her legs spread. She was bare below the waist, her panties having been ripped off. Her buttocks were bright red indicating she had been spanked. Her vagina had been obviously violated and stretched. Her anus had been abused as well. A spatula lay on the floor, the handle streaked with feces. At least this was the scene the investigating police officer found.

Rhonda sat still half naked but covered with a robe her makeup streaked with tears, as she recounted how one of her staff had assaulted her. He had tied her over the chair and tortured her vagina and anus while she was helpless. She had asked him to stay behind after a staff meeting to ask if she might convince him to hold off retiring. This assault was his answer.

An examination at the hospital indicated Rhonda indeed showed bruising around her vagina, perineum and anus. Swabs showed her vaginal secretions smeared down her thighs. The most damning piece of evidence was a latex glove found at the scene. An examination found Rhonda's DNA via vaginal secretions on the outside. The inside contained Derek Thompson's fingerprints. His prints were also found on the table where he sat and on the chair where Rhonda had been secured. No prints were found on the spatula.

Rhonda's shaking and tears was more do to her nervousness the investigators were going to catch on to her subterfuge than to her acting ability.

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Rhonda walked into the kitchen to find Derek sitting at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. "Get a cup if you want. We will be leaving in a few minutes." Derek said, conversationally.

"WE?" she asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. Usually she got up and went to work at the hospital about an hour from now at six o'clock. Her angst increased. Any change to routine bothered her nowadays. She reached to her neck to finger the rigid collar ringing her throat. She did this now anytime she got the least bit nervous.

Her neck was adorned with a metal collar three quarters of an inch wide and three eights of an inch thick. It was the symbol of her new status. She was a slave. Not just a slave, but Derek's slave. As was her twenty year old daughter Caroline who, she hoped, was still in bed sleeping peacefully. Rhonda wondered if Caroline was in her own bed or Derek's. Despite her nervousness, she felt a brief flash of jealousy. Despite her initial reluctance or maybe because of it, she found herself orgasming repeatedly when she had shared Derek's bed.

Normally she addressed him by his name like she had for years. At times she opted for a more formal address. Derek did not like to be called 'master' but accepted the honorific, "Sir". "Sir, is something going on?" Rhonda asked with more than a little uneasiness. Derek answered by refilling his mug and pointing at the door.

"All in due time. I am following recommendations." He said as he ushered Rhonda outside and to his car. Once they were inside and fastened their seat belts, he pulled out of his driveway and began to drive. "I have been considering this. I think it will prove useful." If anything, Rhonda's agitation increased. She knew she could not protest too much. And no way could she physically rebel. The collar around her neck assured that. A touch of an icon on his cell phone or the device Derek wore on his left wrist would have her floundering in agony.

A full shock could render her unconscious for minutes. She knew she would be completely disoriented and likely pee herself in the process. A half shock would still knock her on her butt, all fight or argument forgotten. Derek had never used either on her. She made sure to not give him a reason. Her original orientation of the collar's potential had taught her a couple very painful lessons.- First rule: Do whatever you are told to avoid getting shocked. Second rule: If you are lucky enough to be given a warning, follow rule number one.

Rhonda managed to keep quiet until they pulled into the parking lot of a building downtown. "Oh shit!" she exclaimed almost in a panic. "Please Derek, I mean Sir, I mean Master. Don't sell me!!" She was looking at the sign that said, "Lafayette Parish Slave Induction Center".

Rhonda, like most of the educated citizens in the area knew that this induction center was where anybody sentenced by the Lafayette district court was sold. Three parishes were served. As a curiosity, she had attended one of the public sales where twenty slaves were to be auctioned. Unlike private dealers, the state did not allow up close inspection of a prospective slave. The term up close meant actually touching or feeling up the slave before he or she went on the block. Prospective buyers could merely walk past the newly convicted slaves who stood nude, their hands cuffed behind them to a pole, while their legs were restrained shoulder width apart. As humiliating as this would be it was mild compared to accounts she had read where in private company sales, you could actually touch a slave, even inserting your fingers into a vagina or rectum.

Rhonda had still been close enough to the new slaves to appreciate their humiliation of being exposed nude publicly and the terror of their unknown futures. Each slave was gagged, supposedly to keep them from pleading or possibly cursing and disturb the buyers. But as Rhonda observed, virtually every slave was either actively crying or had been shortly before. Tears streaked their faces.

"I am not going to sell you." Derek said. "But I am checking you in for a little while for orientation." Rhonda had no idea what orientation might mean. She had been a slave for two weeks now, ever since her conviction. Derek had picked her up along with her daughter Caroline directly from the jail so they had not been processed through the Slave Induction Center.

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Rhonda remembered her trepidation the afternoon after her conviction when she was released into her new owner's custody. She and her daughter had already been collared when they were marched out naked and shackled to meet him. Shackles hobbling them made them shuffle along, their hands cuffed behind their backs. She tried to protest the shackles were not necessary. Her words earned her a sharp slap on the butt as the guard said they did not take chances a convict would be dumb enough to try to kick. "You don't look like much of a risk, but it is protocol." the guard continued. Then he proceeded to lead her down the hall by tugging her left nipple. The guard had taken the time to fondle her vagina once she was shackled. She had trembled as he massaged her clit bringing her almost to orgasm before stopping. She knew behind her Caroline was being led in the same way when she heard her daughter protest having her nipple pinched so roughly.

Rhonda thought she had gotten used to her nudity after losing her clothes less than five minutes after having been taken to a cell the previous morning. For the past thirty hours or so, her nude body had been seen by multiple guards and any number of technicians and clerks as she was tattooed, collared and implanted. But none of those people knew her. Now she faced Derek, someone she had known for years who was seeing her bare body for the first time. Her eyes filled with tears at the humiliation as she barely suppressed a sob. Adding to her humiliation was the fact her vagina was getting obviously wet, almost dripping down her thighs and her nipples standing tall.

The guards made a show of unlocking the shackles. "Hands stay behind you back and your legs spread until your master signs for you and tells you to move." one growled.

Derek signed the forms to accept her and Caroline. He watched both women stand there exposed for a minute or so and then grinned. "I brought a couple tee shirts for you two to wear home. It seems the clothes you wore to court were trashed. I hope I have a couple towels for you to sit on or you can sit on the shirts and stay nude. I don't want my car seats stained," he teased, pointing at their glistening vulvas.

Rhonda knew he was teasing her and barely stifled a rebuke. But she had learned a bit about the vulnerability of being a slave over the past thirty hours.

The process to convert her from a free woman to slave was an involved process. The portion she was party to was relative simple. Escorted shackled into a small room by one of the jail guards, she faced three uniformed clerks, one male and two female. One, obviously the supervisor, stated, "Now we can can do this the easy way with your full cooperation or the hard way, which you will regret." She pointed to an operating room type table. "We can and will bind you to that table and lock your head in place if you give us the slightest bit of grief." Eyes wide, Rhonda promised to cooperate. "Good. You may sit on that stool, then."

Each official confirmed Rhonda's identity, comparing her face to her booking photographs. Then her hands were released from the cuffs to have her fingerprints scanned and compared electronically to the data base. One of the techs swabbed Rhonda's cheek for a DNA sample. Finally, they scanned the open collar lying there and compared it to a small clamp looking device. "This is going to sting for a few seconds." the male said. He placed one part of the clamp inside Rhonda's mouth between her teeth and lower lip. He pulled the lip up and clamped it in place trapping her lip. He inspected the position and when he was satisfied, pressed a button. It certainly did sting. Rhonda's eyes watered reflexively but she kept still.

Of course Rhonda knew what the device did. She stared at the floor barely stifling her sobs as the realization she had just been tattooed on her inner lip like a piece of livestock swept through her. The procedure had demoralized her but she knew no casual observer could tell she had been tattooed with her registration number. That would not the case when the next device was fitted. Her neck measurements were taken and they confirmed they had the proper size collar. Six small studs protruded on the inside surface at even intervals. Rhonda held her breath and closed her eyes as the senior official approached her. "Look at me." the woman said. Rhonda opened her eyes and stared at the grinning woman's face. "I love this part. Watching the expression on a slave's face as his or her collar locks in place." Then the collar clicked, Rhonda felt it hum for a few seconds. She tried her best to keep her facial expression neutral. The woman staring at her smiled even wider.

"Is the slave due any implants other than the standard contraceptive and registration tag?" the official asked as she returned to the desk. The man shook his head as he approached with an implant gun in each hand. Rhonda bent over as instructed and felt the devices pressed to each buttock. She yelled at the sudden pain as the implants shot home. Then she was given a vaccination for most known sexually transmitted diseases. As a health care worker exposed to body fluids, she had been vaccinated already but this was standard procedure for slaves.