churgles
Spectator
The first in a multi-part series. Hope you enjoy!
Lot # 65 – or, as she used to be called, Elena Blake – squirmed as her arms were raised, inch by inch, above her head.
The heavy metal shackles dug into her wrists as they reached the desired height, stretching Elena’s nude body as tall as it could go. Leaning back, she rested on the tall pole that she was chained to.
She could hear, on either side of her, whimpers and moans from the other lots up for sale today. She did not turn her head.
She stared straight ahead at the heavy red curtain, wondering what she would see when it opened in just a few minutes.
---
For as long as she could remember, Elena had been a troublemaker.
As far back as elementary school she had been the kind of girl who wouldn’t stop talking in class – and, when the teacher scolded her, would get her revenge by stealing something out of the teacher’s bag. The rules didn’t mean much to her.
And, it turned out, Elena didn’t consider laws to be all that much more meaningful than school rules. It started with petty shoplifting – a candy bar here and there – but soon Elena lived for the thrill of the theft. By 17 she had dropped out of school and set out to be a high-class thief.
(Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had always been her favorite movie, after all.)
She set up shop in the big city and settled in to a life of crime. She thought she was doing a pretty good job, too. For four years she plotted her heists carefully, accumulating a small fortune’s worth of trophies. Not once did she get caught. And so Elena became overconfident.
One night in mid-June, she slinked her way into the penthouse apartment of one of the city’s most powerful bankers. She had just seen the enormous safe that contained her prize… when a team of agents, clad in combat apparel, appeared out of nowhere and tackled her to the ground. Elena writhed as she found herself handcuffed for the very first time, hoping against hope that she could find her way out of this jam.
The list of charges against Elena were long, but the trial was short. The evidence against her was overwhelming. It turned out that she had been under surveillance for many months before her arrest. Elena sat with her head in her hands as the foreperson announced the verdict: guilty on all charges.
Her lawyer visited her a few days later at the jail where she awaited her sentencing.
“What’m I looking at?”
The lawyer sighed. “Best bet… forty years.”
Elena barely batted an eye at the prospect of staying in prison past her sixtieth birthday. Authority had never kept her down before. How much different could prison be from high school, after all?
----
Judge Angela Connor looked down from the bench at the tall, black-haired woman she was about to sentence.
Was woman the right word? The judge wondered to herself as she took one last look at Blake’s file. She was barely 21, after all, and it was obvious from one look at her face that Blake was still so, so young.
But Judge Connor was not impressed by Blake’s crimes. Nor her attitude. She had watched during the trial as Blake seemed barely interested in the proceedings. “The girl needs discipline” was the thought that ran repeatedly through her mind.
“Ms. Blake,” she said, “do you have anything you wish to say before your sentencing?”
Elena didn’t stand. She just shook her head no. Judge Connor gave a tiny laugh.
“All right then. Well, Ms. Blake, it looks like the recommended sentence for your crimes is 480 months in prison. And that seems well-deserved to me.”
The judge paused.
“But I’m worried, Ms. Blake, about two things. One is that it seems a shame to waste the entirety of your promising life inside a prison. The other… the other is that you don’t seem to respect me, or these proceedings, or this community… or anything, really. And I think that, with a little discipline, you might be able to learn that respect.”
Elena looked at the judge quizzically, interested for the first time.
“You may not know this,” Judge Connor said, “what with your total ignorance of the world around you, but the legislature has recently passed a law for cases like yours – convicts under the age of 30 who are facing more than 30 years in jail. Instead of prison, I am allowed to sentence you into slavery for a term not to exceed 25% of your maximum sentence. You would be sold to a private buyer – the costs going to compensate your victims of course – and spend your sentence as their slave.”
It was all happening so fast…
“I think that’s appropriate in your case, Ms. Blake. So, I sentence you to ten years’ enslavement, beginning from the date of your purchase by a private buyer. I trust that, when your time in chains is done, you will have learned your lesson.”
Elena stood suddenly, her face growing red. “NO! I don’t want to be a slave. Send me to prison instead, judge… I think I’ve earned it.”
Judge Connor smirked. “You haven’t earned anything. And you should know that slaves speak only when spoken to. Take her away.”
Elena thrashed in anger as the guards removed her from the courtroom and carried her back to the cells.
Finally, she had sound a rule that she couldn’t break.
----
The morning of her auction, two guards pulled Elena from her cell for processing.
They sliced her orange prison uniform off, leaving her naked save for the dog tags that hung between her breasts. Cuffing Elena to a metal frame, the guards spent some time beautifying her – shaving her pussy, straightening her hair, doing her makeup.
Elena, more terrified than she would ever admit, tried to get some information out of them. “Hey… hey! How does this work? Who’s going to be here? How much am I going to cost?”
The female guard suddenly grabbed her by the hair. “Silence, slave. Speak when spoken to.”
Elena complied, falling silent until the guards were done with her.
“Okay, slave. It’s time.”
They led her backstage. Ten steel poles, each ten feet tall, stood on the stage. Six of them already had slaves chained in place – leg irons locked around the pole, arms raised high above their heads. Elena quickly counted four men and two women before the guards took her to her spot seventh from the right. She looked at the sign above where her head would be.
LOT # 65
AGE: 21
SENTENCE: TEN YEARS
STARTING BID: $50,000
She stared straight ahead at the heavy red curtain. Her new life was on the other side.
Elena was not looking forward to it.
Lot # 65 – or, as she used to be called, Elena Blake – squirmed as her arms were raised, inch by inch, above her head.
The heavy metal shackles dug into her wrists as they reached the desired height, stretching Elena’s nude body as tall as it could go. Leaning back, she rested on the tall pole that she was chained to.
She could hear, on either side of her, whimpers and moans from the other lots up for sale today. She did not turn her head.
She stared straight ahead at the heavy red curtain, wondering what she would see when it opened in just a few minutes.
---
For as long as she could remember, Elena had been a troublemaker.
As far back as elementary school she had been the kind of girl who wouldn’t stop talking in class – and, when the teacher scolded her, would get her revenge by stealing something out of the teacher’s bag. The rules didn’t mean much to her.
And, it turned out, Elena didn’t consider laws to be all that much more meaningful than school rules. It started with petty shoplifting – a candy bar here and there – but soon Elena lived for the thrill of the theft. By 17 she had dropped out of school and set out to be a high-class thief.
(Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had always been her favorite movie, after all.)
She set up shop in the big city and settled in to a life of crime. She thought she was doing a pretty good job, too. For four years she plotted her heists carefully, accumulating a small fortune’s worth of trophies. Not once did she get caught. And so Elena became overconfident.
One night in mid-June, she slinked her way into the penthouse apartment of one of the city’s most powerful bankers. She had just seen the enormous safe that contained her prize… when a team of agents, clad in combat apparel, appeared out of nowhere and tackled her to the ground. Elena writhed as she found herself handcuffed for the very first time, hoping against hope that she could find her way out of this jam.
The list of charges against Elena were long, but the trial was short. The evidence against her was overwhelming. It turned out that she had been under surveillance for many months before her arrest. Elena sat with her head in her hands as the foreperson announced the verdict: guilty on all charges.
Her lawyer visited her a few days later at the jail where she awaited her sentencing.
“What’m I looking at?”
The lawyer sighed. “Best bet… forty years.”
Elena barely batted an eye at the prospect of staying in prison past her sixtieth birthday. Authority had never kept her down before. How much different could prison be from high school, after all?
----
Judge Angela Connor looked down from the bench at the tall, black-haired woman she was about to sentence.
Was woman the right word? The judge wondered to herself as she took one last look at Blake’s file. She was barely 21, after all, and it was obvious from one look at her face that Blake was still so, so young.
But Judge Connor was not impressed by Blake’s crimes. Nor her attitude. She had watched during the trial as Blake seemed barely interested in the proceedings. “The girl needs discipline” was the thought that ran repeatedly through her mind.
“Ms. Blake,” she said, “do you have anything you wish to say before your sentencing?”
Elena didn’t stand. She just shook her head no. Judge Connor gave a tiny laugh.
“All right then. Well, Ms. Blake, it looks like the recommended sentence for your crimes is 480 months in prison. And that seems well-deserved to me.”
The judge paused.
“But I’m worried, Ms. Blake, about two things. One is that it seems a shame to waste the entirety of your promising life inside a prison. The other… the other is that you don’t seem to respect me, or these proceedings, or this community… or anything, really. And I think that, with a little discipline, you might be able to learn that respect.”
Elena looked at the judge quizzically, interested for the first time.
“You may not know this,” Judge Connor said, “what with your total ignorance of the world around you, but the legislature has recently passed a law for cases like yours – convicts under the age of 30 who are facing more than 30 years in jail. Instead of prison, I am allowed to sentence you into slavery for a term not to exceed 25% of your maximum sentence. You would be sold to a private buyer – the costs going to compensate your victims of course – and spend your sentence as their slave.”
It was all happening so fast…
“I think that’s appropriate in your case, Ms. Blake. So, I sentence you to ten years’ enslavement, beginning from the date of your purchase by a private buyer. I trust that, when your time in chains is done, you will have learned your lesson.”
Elena stood suddenly, her face growing red. “NO! I don’t want to be a slave. Send me to prison instead, judge… I think I’ve earned it.”
Judge Connor smirked. “You haven’t earned anything. And you should know that slaves speak only when spoken to. Take her away.”
Elena thrashed in anger as the guards removed her from the courtroom and carried her back to the cells.
Finally, she had sound a rule that she couldn’t break.
----
The morning of her auction, two guards pulled Elena from her cell for processing.
They sliced her orange prison uniform off, leaving her naked save for the dog tags that hung between her breasts. Cuffing Elena to a metal frame, the guards spent some time beautifying her – shaving her pussy, straightening her hair, doing her makeup.
Elena, more terrified than she would ever admit, tried to get some information out of them. “Hey… hey! How does this work? Who’s going to be here? How much am I going to cost?”
The female guard suddenly grabbed her by the hair. “Silence, slave. Speak when spoken to.”
Elena complied, falling silent until the guards were done with her.
“Okay, slave. It’s time.”
They led her backstage. Ten steel poles, each ten feet tall, stood on the stage. Six of them already had slaves chained in place – leg irons locked around the pole, arms raised high above their heads. Elena quickly counted four men and two women before the guards took her to her spot seventh from the right. She looked at the sign above where her head would be.
LOT # 65
AGE: 21
SENTENCE: TEN YEARS
STARTING BID: $50,000
She stared straight ahead at the heavy red curtain. Her new life was on the other side.
Elena was not looking forward to it.