Property Ch 1 - Convicted, Leased, and Prepared
My lawyer had told me to expect it, but it was still a shock when the jury returned the guilty verdict, and the judge pronounced five consecutive five year sentences. The money I stole from the State as an accountant had already been spent so was not recovered, and for that the judge had been strict on the sentence. So, for the next twenty-five years, I became the inventoried property of the State. All records of you as a person are locked away until your term is up. The inventory tracking QR code was tattooed onto my ass and a chip tracking tag was embedded in my shoulder. Much like a luggage tracking tag it told the State where its property is located within 50 feet anywhere in the Country.
Years ago, the State had decided that prison for non-violent offenders was not only extremely expensive but largely unproductive. The concept of having prisoners pay their own way had grown into the current system of work houses, providing cheap manufacturing labor for businesses in the State. Out of that grew the concept that people with professional skills were worth more on the open market than they could produce in the workhouses. So, firms could lease a lawyer, accountant, etc. for the duration of their sentences. In return for housing, feeding, clothing, and otherwise caring for the convict they got 40 hours a week of the convict's expertise. That the females in that program were also used sexually, the courts had ruled was not only not a concern the State, but the convicts had no standing to protest. There was tacit approval that the higher lease rates for attractive young females was a benefit to the State which probably led to the court's decision.
There was generally a monthly auction for people in those categories, where firms could bid for the convicts with the skills they found useful and profitable. My hope was that I might be put into that group due to my accounting skills, the housing and food was reportedly much better than the State workhouses, and the work not only more interesting, but generally led to paying jobs at the end of the sentence.
As soon as the verdict was read the paper jump suit was torn from my body leaving me in heels and the chains around my waist that my wrists were attached to and a hobble chain between my ankles held off the floor by another chain up to the waist chain. I was taken down a back hall to a holding cell and a short time later out, still naked and chained, through the loading dock to a van with no windows other than the windshield and two front door windows. There was a plastic wall between us and the driver. There were four others all naked, including one male, chained like I was in the back of the van.
At the processing center the van entered a sally port and the overhead door was closed before the van door was unlocked and we were helped out of the van onto the concrete floor. As soon as we were lined up a well-dressed lady said something to the guard, and I was escorted with the lady to a separate holding room. Once in the room she told me to have a seat and identified herself as Mrs. Goodwin from the State Property Control Office. She told me, "My job is to identify potentially high value State property and help ensure that the State gets the most value out of what it owns. You, young lady meet that standard, it would be a criminal waste of State resources to have you making furniture in a State run furniture shop, or doing back room menial bookkeeping. For the next few days we are going to maximize your value, and return for the State. You can cooperate and it will be easy for you, or you can fight us, not only making it difficult and painful for yourself, but probably resulting in you spending the next twenty-five years of your life in a less desirable placement." I tried to convince her of my value as an accountant, but she was completely uninterested.
What I gathered and assumed was that she was telling me that as an attractive, reasonably fit young woman, people would pay well for my sexual use, and that my sexual use would be more valuable to the State than my labor or even my accounting skills. That could be either better or worse than a State workhouse, but since I had no say in the matter, I should probably work with her for the promised better outcome. She apparently saw my acceptance in my face. She took me to a holding cell, removed my chains and told me, "Get a good night's sleep, tomorrow will be busy and you need to look rested."
There was no dinner, and breakfast was just juice and pastry, no coffee. Mrs. Goodwin showed up a bit later and led me into a room that was set up as a photo studio. There was a beautician's chair in one corner and Mrs. Goodwin handed me off to an overweight bleached blonde, with the instructions, "Do what she tells you to do." For the next hour she styled my hair and then did my makeup. The guy I assumed was the photographer wandered in and made a few makeup suggestions which the blonde didn't seem to care for. I have no idea if she followed his suggestions or not.
Once I was handed over to him he said, "We are going to do your sales site images. The better you look, the better your price, and believe me you want to be going to a high bidder." For two hours we did pictures, head shots, evening gown, lingerie, tasteful nudes, and some explicit shots which I was sure were going into his private collection. Mrs. Goodwin helped me with the costume changes but left the image shots up to the photographer.
Lunch was delivered and as I ate the best meal in over a week, Mrs. Goodwin and the photographer went through the shots, picking out the ones she liked best and doing some editing of the images. As I finished lunch another lady came in with a laptop and I watched as she worked with the photographer and Mrs. Goodwin to put together my "State Property for Lease" page. There were enough of the explicit shots to make it look like a Playboy layout. I heard Mrs. Goodwin say, "we will add the auction information later, once it is scheduled."
The photographer started putting all of his equipment away, while Mrs. Goodwin helped me strip and put the costumes away. As we finished she took my arm and told me, "go thank the photographer." As soon as I approached him it was obvious the thanks that he expected. I bent over the stool and got the first cock I had felt in a month. He was nice sized and knew how to use it. He got me off twice before spinning me around dropping me to my knees and cumming down my throat. Once thanked he finished putting his equipment away and Mrs. Goodwin took me back to my cell.
For the next four days I sat bored in my cell. Food was delivered three times a day. It was hot, filling and broke the boredom, but that is about all I can say about it. Mrs. Goodwin would stop by occasionally to check on me and tell me that my auction page was getting good interest. I assumed that was good but had no real idea.
Then on the fifth day, she stopped by early to tell me that today was the day. That I would be taken back to the photo studio, have my hair and makeup done again and then be on a live broadcast for the auction. She had decided that she liked the evening gown look for the best of the potential bidders that had shown interest. As she put it a few that are looking for a trophy girlfriend with accounting skills that fucks.
The photographer came and got me and took me to the studio. The same bleached blonde did my hair and makeup. He had a webcam set up in front of a solid backdrop. He suggested that I stay in one spot or small area, smile and perhaps do a solo waltz. I did a few steps, and he said, "perfect, when I tell you to start, keep doing that until I tell you to stop."
