Authors note: This is a multi-part story, already written, so I will be submitting a new chapter every three or four days. All comments are welcome. In real-life I am not involved in the BDSM scene so suggestions from those more experienced are welcome. All comments are welcome - be nice if you can, but if not, I have a thick skin and promise not to get offended.
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Karen's Slavery
Chapter 1, Karen's Enslavement
By ETB70
"The defendant will rise," the Judge ordered, as the jury filed back into the courtroom.
Heart racing, Karen stood up nervously with her attorney. He gave her hand a brief squeeze as the Judge continued. Despite the squeeze, her attorney did not look very confident. "Madam Foreman, has the jury reached its verdict?"
"We have, Your Honor. We find the defendant guilty on both counts of Murder in the First Degree, one count of Assault on a Peace Officer and one count of resisting arrest."
Karen sank back down into her seat, her long auburn hair falling over her face as she put her head down and began to cry. Despite warnings from her attorney, she had still hoped that somehow she would be acquitted. Yes, she had slashed her best friend's throat and stabbed her husband to death with her friend's blood still soaking him and the bed where she had found them when she came home early. Yes, she had attacked the police that the neighbors had called when they heard the screaming. She still hoped the jury would find her not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. Even being committed to a mental institution would have been better than what now faced her.
"The defendant will stand!" the Judge ordered sharply. Helped by her attorney, Karen managed to regain her feet on her shaky legs. "So say you all?" the Judge asked. At nods and "ayes" from the other jurors, he continued. "This court finds the defendant guilty on all counts. Accordingly, the defendant is sentenced to Category-3 slavery for life. She will be taken from this place to the county jail. One week from today, at 10:00 in the morning, she will be taken to the courthouse square, stripped, flogged as provided by law and leased to the highest bidder. Bailiff will ensure that proper notices are posted and potential bidders registered and qualified. This court is adjourned."
Karen was sobbing and her mind was blank with denial as the two deputies grabbed her upper arms and marched her out of the courtroom. Two months ago she had been an up-and-coming junior executive; this couldn't be happening to her.
Slavery had been introduced as punishment back in 2020 after the rising costs of prison became too much to bear. Decades of overspending had also come home to roost and there had been significant budget cuts in all areas, even Defense, Medicare and Social Security. Finding ways to cut government costs were finally getting some attention. Political prisoners, of which there were now quite a few, might be too dangerous to allow free, but ordinary felons could theoretically be sentenced to years of slavery or for life, although in practice, it was almost always for life.
Category-3 was the worse category she could have gotten. Category-1 slaves were essentially just unpaid workers. Their jobs had to be safe and they were mostly treated almost like other workers, just worked harder with longer hours but not paid. Of course, even Category-1 slaves could legally be raped once a day by their owners. Category-2 slaves were allowed to be worked even harder and in dangerous conditions but again, there were some limits. They were mostly used in things like mining, cleaning out sewer tunnels or brothels, but if one died, there would be at least some official investigation. Category-3 had none of these safety valves. The owner could not deliberately kill them or cause permanent serious damage, but if something did happen, the worse the owner could get was a fine equal to the price paid for the slave, since technically all slaves were still state property and the owner would have to compensate the state for their loss.
Karen was a very attractive twenty-three year old female. There was little doubt that she would be sold as a sex slave, and as a Category-3 slave with very little limit to what could be done to her, probably even to someone deep into BDSM or worse yet, a BDSM-themed brothel.
A still-crying Karen was marched through the underground tunnel connecting the courthouse to the jail. The deputies buzzed her through the first locked door and stopped in the anteroom before the cell blocks. This was a holding jail, not a prison, and while there were two sections, one for women and one for men, they shared a single locked access point. "Strip," one deputy ordered.
"Fuck you, I'll wait for a female guard," Karen replied, gaining control of herself for a moment. The deputy backhanded her.
"You don't get it, you murdering bitch. Citizens get that sort of treatment, not you. You were just convicted; now you're just a slave not a citizen. Now strip, damn you." He punctuated the order by unholstering his Taser. Having experienced the Taser once when she was arrested, a crying Karen quickly began stripping. Once completely naked, a blushing Karen was body-cavity searched front and back and then led, still naked, down a corridor past the male prison cells and their catcalls to her lonely cell in the women's section.
One week later, standing on the courthouse steps, her hands cuffed in heavy leather manacles in front of her, Karen shivered, dressed in nothing but a thin cotton shift. Nervously she watched a new male slave be stripped and flogged. There were just the two of them today. As a Category-2, he only got twenty lashes. Still, by the end, he was screaming as the last five strokes were aimed directly at his spread-out crotch. As a Category Three, Karen knew she would get thirty lashes and shuddered. The slave was released, collared and led away to the auction block.
As soon as his sale was completed and the winning bid accepted, it was Karen's turn. The deputies shoved her forward to the front of the steps.
As usual, there was a large crowd behind the roped off area reserved for the bidders. Standing right in front, Karen saw several men she had turned down for dates at one time or another before her marriage, talking to one of the girls she used to bully and torment in high school. They all looked excited and eager to watch her humiliation and punishment. Karen's sentence was read out and the two deputies grabbed the top of her thin cotton shift and tore it off of her. Until that moment, deep down, Karen still expected that somehow, she would be rescued, maybe a last-minute appeal, a mistrial or something. Things like this happened to other people; this couldn't be happening to her. Now Karen stood completely naked, blushing and humiliated as the crowd watched eagerly.
"Slave will face the courthouse, spread her legs, bend over, grasp her ankles and hold position," the Bailiff ordered. Trembling and blushing furiously as she turned her back to the crowd, Karen complied, even though she knew the position would expose her ass and cunt to the watching crowd. The Bailiff took his time, drawing out her embarrassment, but finally something hard was pressed against her right ass-cheek followed by a "crack" and a furious sting where the air gun had injected the slave registration and tracking device in the fleshy part of her ass. She also had the newly-applied tattoo of her slave number on her neck. "You can stand now," the Bailiff said. The process complete, at his invitation, interested bidders came up to inspect and handle the slave they would be bidding on.
Blushing continuously, Karen was forced to stand and endure their very hands-on inspections. Finally the bidders were satisfied and Karen was led to the flogging station. It was a tall steel pole with a long arm. The slave's hands were raised by a rope attached to the end of this long arm, allowing lashes to all sides of the body. Leather cuffs were attached to her ankles and then she was hoisted into the air. Once her feet left the ground, the deputies attached the lines on her ankle cuffs to eyebolts with jam-cleats in the concrete, spreading her legs so wide that she groaned with the strain. Anchored tightly at three points, Karen could barely move. She was too scared to be embarrassed anymore, but realized that the position again spread her cunt and ass wide open for everyone in the crowd to see. Shuddering, she remembered the time she and some girlfriends had come down to watch as a girl they hated in high school was enslaved and flogged. They had stood in front, watching and making loud catty remarks as the event unfolded. She never dreamed that she would ever find herself in the same situation. Now she could hear similar remarks coming from those at the front of the crowd. Again, Karen began to sob in a combination of fright and humiliation.
Karen screamed as the first lash landed on her tight little ass, which was still sore from the injection she had just received. The flogging lash was really just a thick leather strap. The State had no interest in seriously damaging the merchandise they would soon be auctioning off. Still, it was swung with full force; even if it didn't break the skin, it still hurt terribly. Karen could already feel a welt rising on her ass as the next lash fell.
As soon as the flogger decided her back, ass and legs were sufficiently whipped, he moved to her front. Karen had been gritting her teeth and trying not to scream with each stroke, realizing that worse was coming. The first lash across her breasts and nipples caused her to begin screaming again, tugging on her bonds, trying desperately to escape the cruel lash.
"Yeah," someone in the crowd called out, "That got her attention. Give her some more like that and then do her cunt."
"Cunt, cunt, cunt," the crowd began chanting.
After a few more strokes on her tits, the flogger moved on to her tummy and the front of her thighs, saving the best for last. Finally, he gave the crowd what they had been demanding; just like with the male prisoner, his last strokes were to her spread-out crotch, only in her case there were ten strokes remaining. The crowd went wild with cheering as he did the first five from the front using an underhand stroke, Karen screaming shrilly with each lash as the strap struck her cunt brutally and curled up to impact on her sensitive, spread-open asshole. Finally he moved behind her and gave the last five strokes from the back, this time the tip of the strap curling up to impact directly on her clit. Karen screamed until she was hoarse.
Lost in pain, a crying Karen barely noticed when she was taken down, her hands re-manacled tightly behind her and marched to the auction block. The auction took awhile with the final two men bidding aggressively against each other, but eventually the auctioneer said, "Sold", and a tall man, maybe in his mid-thirties, approached. "According to our files, you are a registered BDSM practitioner, is that correct?" the man was asked.
"Yes, it is."
"That is an acceptable use for this slave, and your financial arrangements appear to be sufficient for the bid. Sign here and the slave is now yours," the Bailiff said, fastening the heavy leather slave collar tightly around Karen's neck and handing the leash to the man. Karen cringed as the Bailiff asked, "Do you want to take her for the first time here? It is allowed and I think the crowd would love it."
