The Indenture -- The Watchmen

"Having fun is not provided for in our indentures," I quipped with mock exaggeration.

In a cheerful resonant tone, Henderson explained his purpose, "I have to determine whether to wax the hairy zones of your body." Mr Henderson's voice reverberating in a cheery ring contrasted with the harshly soul shattering screech of donning latex gloves.

His touch laying hands on me was gentle. Hands gliding along my underarms reached gingerly into my arm pits. As Henderson groping down my sides brushed the sides of my breasts, I leaned back and teased, "Coping a feel?"

Bending me at the waste and gently nudging my feet apart, Henderson's hands invaded my crack. Patting my butt and stepping back, Henderson exchanged his latex gloves for a fresh pair. I winced at the staccatic, grinding sound of the removal of the soiled gloves and replacement with new ones.

"Too bad, The Institute doesn't deem me intelligent enough to inseminate you," Henderson lamented as he felt along my perinium into my groinal creases and then through my vaginal lips before he exercised my clitoris.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled. At Henderson's invitation I spoke of my usual intercourse with men. I pick the short guys, selected for domestic service by reason of good speech and fine manners and politeness. Once they've been cleaned and waxed of body hair, I could take two at a time."

"You were taking a big risk," Henderson commented.

"Out of sight, working out as quietly as possible in the racquetball court after hours," I gasped. I felt the tempest begin to stir deep inside me. Suddenly Henderson broke off contact. "Damn you, Henderson. I deserve more than tease and denial."

Lifting me to my feet, Henderson declared dispassionately, "Subject's physical appearance, state of personal hygiene and personal grooming is superior."

"I'm not a repossessed debtor who has been on the run," I retorted, "I'm subject to daily inspection in communal showers. I have to keep the kennel clip, legs shaved clean, and the standard inverted "V" sharply keen."

Pointing me to a shower, Henderson ordered, "Rise off quickly before those guards check on us."

"You bastard," I cursed Henderson, "revving me up but breaking it off before my engines turned over."

"I lack the tool," Henderson rued, "to follow through."

Emerging from the shower, I was directed to stand on a tailors' platform. Henderson ordered, "face front, hands at your sides, Don't be a klutz, I need a full-frontal view of your nakedness, smile for the camera, I want to capture your dour pus."

"Caption this one, give it a rip, this face launched a 1000 ships," I quipped.

Turning right and left for profiles, I teased Henderson, "an appropriate refrain for the dangerous criminal brought here in chains."

Henderson politely chuckled, "time we turned to the other cheeks. Back to the camera for the tweets. We need to snap a photo of that flat butt, peeps."

"I drive men witless. They'll dream endless," I cooed, "of mounting the fiercest tigress."

After the last shot was taken, Henderson tapped on the door and invited Freyta and Bertha to remove me. In Dr Amy's office, I was placed in one of the cages beyond the gynecological couch. The guards escorting me, departed. Left alone, I laid down on a cot under a scratchy wool blanket. I fell fast asleep.

Subject at all times of the night to Dr Crenshaw's beckon and call and inclined to a little nocturnal fun in the racquetball court with freshly processed male indenturees, I welcomed the time to nap time forced upon me.

I'm not sure how much time went by before I heard the guards place another servant in the adjacent cage. I could not see my companion. A solid wall separated the two cells.

There was a protest, "I'm a nurse practicing, on repossessed males in -- processing, testicular exams fresh fruit dangling."

"Sorry we had to disrupt your fun," the guard shouted. "Strip and give up your cute nurse's uniform. Before I rip it off your body and string you up for a good paddling." The voice was Bertha's the dark haired guard one of the guards who brought me to this holding cell.

"Do you know who I am?" my companion demanded.

"An indenturee returned to market," Bertha, the guard, retorted.

"My indenture prohibits re-sale," the prisoner protested.

My heart fell. There was only one person indentured who fit that description, Megan, Meg, the doctor's sister. The computer had already challenged Dr Crenshaw for control of the facility.

"Oh yeah," the guard Bertha replied, "The institute's lawyer is in the next cage. Now, we have your exit physical in a few minutes. Doc is busy. Clothes off. I've had too much grief today from indenturees who think they're special. Or it'll be 50 whacks on that round butt."

The cage was opened. The prisoner promised to undress. I heard the ruffle of a nurse's scrubs coming off. The prisoner screamed when she was cuffed. I heard the swish of a paddle. The force and swiftness of the blows and the prisoner's whimpering increased as the count went on...

The whimpering continued even when I heard Dr Amy enter the dispensary. Removed from the cage, Meg stated to ramble, "Amy.."

In an officious tone Dr Amy, interjected, "Dr Amy please, to my profession, some deference, even if I am not entitled to the address, my real name Dr Amy Portents."

"That nasty bitch grabbed me in the loading deck where I ..." Meg's rushed to gush.

Cutting off Meg, Dr Amy took charge, "squat and pee into the cup, for me, just a routine pregnancy test."

Sobbing still coking her voice, Meg asked, "anything else?"

"Just the usual ritual," Dr Amy in a cheerful voice continued, "We need to inspect your insides."

I gulped. A free woman might find presence at another woman's internal examination as unsettling as having another person present during hers. I think free women would prefer date of last intercourse, whether hot or not, and last period to remain private. But where a freewoman might be ill -- at -- ease, an indentured slave's body is the property of another.

"Up on the table, wiggle your bum down to the edge, dangle your feet off," Dr Amy ordered in a pleasant voice, "I can't see your internal reproductive organs, the uterus and ovaries. So, I need to feel you up, kind of like a good finger fucking, hmm?" A girlish giggle entered Dr Amy's voice, "Not as much fun as the real thing, but with fewer consequences. Two greased, gloved fingers inside you while my other hand massages your belly to check your egg crate."

The guard helped Meg off the table and cuffed her. "And Angie?" Bertha the guard asked.

Unused to such harsh treatment, Meg had enjoyed a soft indenture. She was not hauled in a mass, stripped naked, publicly exposed, examined like meat on the loading dock, body hair waxed.

"Will Angie be leaving with Meg in irons like deposed royalty?" Bertha, the guard, asked.

Good question I mused. Would I follow Meg to the holding pens just beyond the door to Dr Crenshaw's private baths? An indentured servant, even one of high status, lives with the reality that, in conformance with the terms of the indenture, at any time for any reason the relationship could be severed in and a comparatively favorable condition of servitude lost.

"I have a patient in labor," Dr Amy sighed, "The disposition of Angie will have to wait."

While Meg was subject to an indenture, her contract prohibited sale. Who would offer to buy her? The act if purchase would liberate Meg from her obligation. The computer ought to know that. So, what did it intend to do?

Whatever the mart computer intended, there was nothing, while confined, I, naked and caged, could have prevented.

An indentured slave has limited expectation in captivity. Early on in servitude, the slave learns to deal with frustration through passivity. I laid on the cot in hibernation napping away inactivity.

Dr Amy entered followed by the two security women in grey coveralls. Amy tried to look away when I looked at her. Not good, I thought to myself. Released from the cage, I was ordered to the gynecological table. Feet spread locked in stirrups, I was secured to the table with bands across my waist, above my breasts, along my forehead; my hands were secured to the sides of the table.

"The computer decided," Dr Amy explained, "that your most valuable service can be rendered in your current position."

"It doesn't look like I'm being returned to my office," I quipped.

"You and Dr Crenshaw fall in the genius category; your offspring would be superior," Amy explained. "Relax," Amy ordered as she stung me with a needle, "during the insemination procedure."

I drifted into a foggy state. I was aware of everything around me but did not care. Dr Amy announced, "I have a life like cylindrical device shaped like a phallus." Amy held up the phallus for me to see.

Groggy, I muttered, "a dildo. Is that all you have for me? When we played in the squash court, I brought you the real thing."

"Real thing," Amy held up the device, "This device feels like the real thing," Amy rubbed the device against my lips. "Open your mouth! You'll like it." I opened my mouth to lather the dildo. It seemed to grow as I sucked it.

"The device is like a dildo in that it is used to stimulate and penetrate the internal female genitalia," Amy spoke as if lecturing medical students. "Like the real thing, the device will pulsate as it expands inside the vagina. It won't discharge its load of washed sperm until your body goes into the contractions of orgasm. Tests show it is the most likely method of efficient one -- shot impregnation."

"Impregnation?" I asked. In my groggy state, the thought of impregnation bemused me.

"The computer changed its mind. You're now selected for mating with introduction of Dr Crenshaw's sperm," Dr Amy advised, "By reason of your great intelligence, the computer decided your gametes cannot be allowed to go to waste."

"Impregnation without the fun," I quipped.

"This fully computerized, phallic shaped device is more dependable than any male." Dr Amy in a soft voice explained, "Before I can introduce the phallus into your reproductive track, I will naturally lubricate your vaginal orifice by massaging your clitoris."

"Amy, you sound so cold, so clinical. When did you become so cynical?" I posed the question.

"Oh what do you want to hear?" Amy chirped, "emotions surge so basic // they're heard to bear // reason, logic yields to base instinct // crunched like a pretzel, submission unchecked // overcome, taken from the rear // bodies lock together, hot breath on your neck// sweet sounds resounding, he whispers in your ear // muscles tighten, he goes erect // a probe tests the gateway opening clear // fire door opened, in goes the spear // // contractions emphatic as we connect // radiant glow when bodies erupt // the excitement of the intrusion begins with a simple introduction."

Although I was now relaxed, Amy took no chances. I felt the pinpoint of another injection. Reeling from the shot, I laughed, "Introduce a penis? Did we say, `Even' Mr Dick? I'd like you to extend yourself by about eight inches."

"Memories of squash court try outs, our exertions, warming up with newly repossessed acquisitions, guys, still fear shaken," Dr Amy chided.

"We never learned the guys' names," I recalled, "much less the silly childishness they called their hook ups.' They were scared, newly apprehended. Short of size and soft to the touch, bodies waxed, in training for household duties in manor house life. For some, this would be their final workout, before they faced the.."

At that Dr Amy stung my butt cheek with another shot. I drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. I could no longer speak, but could feel my tongue lapping up the device stuck in my mouth.

Withdrawing the device from my mouth, Dr Amy gently used the device to massage my vaginal lips. "The object in an effective insertion in artificial insemination," Dr Amy promised, "is to replicate natural coitus as closely as possible." Separating my vaginal lips, Amy introduced the device a few millimeters before withdrawing it and then rhymically reintroducing it, penetrating deeper each time, picking up the pace with each thrust.

I could feel my skin warm to a feverish level. Like a dull distant echo, I could hear Dr Amy perfunctorily dictating her notes. "Heartbeat elevated, breathing rapid, dermal temperature rising, early stages of orgasm."

The probe's advances and retreats reached a frenzied pace. Dr Amy announced, "7.62 cm, then 8.9, 10.2, 12.7, 17.8, 21.6. The device is still elongating. We're beyond the device's recommended maximum extent."

My brain was overloaded. 21 inches! Had the probe burrowed inside me by almost two feet? Would that thing come through my mouth and split me in two? I laughed. Amy's depth reading were in centimeters not inches. I was uncontrollably laughing.

"Hmm," Dr Amy observed in an officious tone. "nothing in testing indicated a tendency toward Gelastic seizures."

Laughter turned to screams. Screams to curses. I yelled bloody curses till my voice went hoarse. Convulsions overtook me, first in a ripple then in a storm surge. The probe exploded inside me, releasing the refined sperm which would impregnate me.

"The device is remarkable. Because the computer has assigned your impregnation a high priority," Dr Amy observed as she clamped a pad over my slit, "the process cannot be interrupted. For the next two hours, your legs remain elevated, locked in the stirrups. The door is locked. No one can enter to interrupt Your notebook is turned off. Dr Crenshaw himself cannot intervene. Lights will be out." At that Dr Amy jabbed my butt with the final shot and I found myself tumbling into a deep was asleep.

I'm not sure how long I had been asleep when I was awakened by Dr Amy, now in loosely fitting scrubs providing a nice view of her cleavage, shining a penlight in my eyes. Gradually, I felt feeling return to my body's extremities. In a soft voice, Dr Amy asked me to remain still while she freed me from the gynecological table.

Once on my feet, I felt so woozy, I tried to crawl back on the table. "There's no time," Dr Amy counselled, "Dr Crenshaw needs you straight away."

Amy called brunette Bertha and blonde Freyda forward. Both naked, Freyda's skin was chalky white; Bertha's had a olive tinge. They each held me under an arm. Their meaty breasts felt warm as they helped me along.

At the checkpoint in front of the entrance to Dr Crenshaw' spa, Dr Amy quickly slipped off her scrubs. Shock read on my face. She wasn't wearing underwear. "I was in a hurry to fetch you," Amy cheerfully apologized.

"Where's the offense?" I replied. "We're naked slaves."

"No, you're not." Warned the checkpoint male guard. "There's a string tie around your neck." The male guard wretch the string tie from my neck. "Now you are."

Laughing, Amy quickly squatted over a silvery patch on the floor for inspection of her undercarriage. The guard passed Amy through. I leaned on the counter while Freyda and Bertha squatted over the silver patch. Both failed the test.

When Amy noted the exigency, the women Berth and Freyda were bent over the counter for gloved examination of their insides. Bertha gasped as checkpoint guards pushed her feet further apart and gloved fingers invaded her rectum.

The checkpoint guard snorted, "purely professional."

Bertha snickered, "that's a given."

Dr Amy forced a smile.

Inside the spa, we found Dr Crenshaw seated on the edge of the hot tub. Two nude hefty eunuch guards bodies gleaming, freshly waxed, shriveled penises dangling, empty sacs stood at a discrete distance from Dr Crenshaw on either side of him.

"They took Meg," Crenshaw wailed pointing to Freyda and Bertha. "Meg can't be sold. She's entitled to use her last name. You drafted the contract. How can she be leased for six months?"

"Meg was a tough bargainer," I replied, "True, Meg's indenture prohibits resale, liberates her from the indenture upon your death, bankruptcy or insolvency, limited inseminations, but I built a safety valve in her contract -- in case Meg proved to be a problem, The Institute reserved the right to lease her out simply by not eliminating it."

"How do we get her back?" Crenshaw begged.

"We don't!" I was firm, "The computer's artificial intelligence detected an intense demand for nurses on a short term. Megan is a nurse. It reasoned you might need to exercise your eh -- libido. Dr Amy was under indenture and available."

"And you?" Dr Crenshaw asked.

"It fits into the computer's vision of checks and balances and the need for competition," I replied.

"All cold calculation, weighing costs against benefits," Crenshaw griped.

"Not entirely, the computer saw Dr Amy's need for a recreational, romantic encounter and provided her with one," I noted as I watched Amy blush, "With me, the impregnation was accomplished with efficiency."

"So, I'm obliged to subject my sister to slavery elsewhere?" Dr Crenshaw asked.

"We can re-assert control," I replied, "We insist that Meg's -- eh -- employ be local. Meg be allowed to live here during employment."

"How is that possible?" Crenshaw pled.

"The lease is for nursing services alone," I insisted, "We retain the right to reap her produce, to tap her supply of milk." I feigned an innocent look. "Meg's contribution to the `Milk of Human Kindness' is one of the Institute's proprietary rights."

"And Meg's right to keep her own money?" Crenshaw asked.

"Her master may retain Meg's money for safekeeping," I replied, "I suggest you restrain her money and confiscate her personal property."

"Meg's last name?" Crenshaw inquired.

"The contract states Meg may use her original last name," I replied, "That's Crenshaw. All your servants may use your last name if one is required as with servants sent to school."

Head hung in defeat, Dr Crenshaw asked, "And those two that carted, my Meg off. What do I do with them."

"Nothing," I replied firmly. When disbelief spread over Crenshaw's face at my response, I explained, "Freyda and Bertha acted on the instructions of the computer which you placed in charge. They can't be punished for following the directions you authorized. I'll assign Freyda and Bertha to driving Meg to and from Meg's job at the hospital which rented Meg."

"Anything else?" Dr Crenshaw asked.

"Thank the de-activated computer for setting up checks and balances, it created." I replied.

"You mean the two security services," Dr Crenshaw noted.

"No," I dared to reprove Dr Crenshaw, "I mean the creation of the heir. Now you may have created rival heirs. You exercised your right to impregnate Dr Amy by a hot infusion of genetic material into her reproductive tract and me by impersonal artificial means."