CAPTURE TEAM: PT 5 THE PLATFORM
I was in the basement of a rambling old house in the college town of River Bend. From the street the house surrounded by high hedges overlooking the river looked like an old manor. The Institute used the isolated location as an interim detention center to hold repossessed local debtors condemned to serve the period of an indenture they agreed to when the debtor obtained a loan.
In front of me, the guest of honor was not a debtor but an absconder, formerly a trusted human asset at the Institute.
"My name is LT Tina, Commander of this station," I introduced myself to the six-foot-tall dark haired male prisoner hands bound by stay -- ties. The prisoner's position under the blinding light above the octagonal tailor's platform surrounded by six facets of mirrors give me a panoramic view of his robust, hairy body.
Pointing to the prisoner's shrunken penis and drawn up against the body, Cliff leaned into me to whisper in my ear, "He's playing tough, baring his fangs for show, but his spear has shriveled. He's afraid."
Noticing the muscles in the prisoner's broad shoulders straining against those plastic ties, I reminded him, "You are being processed as an absconder for return to the Institute. Thus far, you've been cooperative. Cliff and Logan are here to assist me if you present a problem. We aren't going to have any problems when we cut off the stay ties. Will we?"
I sighed. If the master tactician taught 2500 years ago that anyone, even a woman like myself, can be a soldier, then by the same token anyone can be a traitor.
It had by no means guaranteed from the inception that the mission would post an outstanding success. Some time ago, I arrived at this hidden detention center in a huff. Wearing the dress uniform, a jacket over a starched blouse and a tight mid-calf skirt that squeaked when I took every step, I was not a bit miffed. Even though I had been notified by Dr Crenshaw's office of the change in plans I was furious.
A secretary in Dr Crenshaw's office had called me to advise me of the modification of my orders. "Dr Crenshaw wanted to speak to you personally. Doctor regrets he must deal with a grave emergency. He did leave this message for you. `as circumstances require, one must modify one's plans accordingly.' Doctor said you'd understand."
"From the Art of War." I replied.
"To look at Dr Crenshaw's face," the secretary advised, "you'd think there was a war going on."
"Damn!" I exclaimed aloud in my car after I terminated the call with Institute Headquarters. I had been en route to the Institute to celebrate a milestone in my career. Now diverted from my promotion ceremony, I was reassigned to join a capture team performing a routine operation in a college town. With my promotion to Lieutenant delayed, I was angry. The diversion likely lost me pay and seniority.
On arrival at the rambling old Victorian spired mansion whose basement housed the forward detention center. I pulled my car into the concrete sunken parking lot hidden behind high overgrown hedges. Walking past vans and squad cars, I passed the outside cage where Mary, who had been one of the instructors at the Institute was in the exterior holding cell, naked clutching to a blanket. Her barrel shaped pregnant belly peeked out from under the cover. A quick shaking of her head advised me not to notice her and to pass on. Hand under her round belly, Mary presented a devilishly cute image.
With such a potentially dangerous prisoner, Cliff and Logan, two young men in the utility uniform, working the yard seemed particularly inattentive.
What had I walked in on?
I paused in front of the door for a second to take a deep breath and ponder: what has the Institute planned for me? At my request, Cliff listlessly escorted me to Sergeant Jenny's office. Entering the basement, I found myself in a well -- light cinder block walled corridor leading to an alcove containing a tailor's octagonal platform engirded by a mirror with six facets lit by a blinding overhead light. "Hmm," I told tall tough Cliff, "a spotlight on the guest of honor." Directed to Sergeant Jenny's office, I properly knocked and awaited Sergeant Jenny's permission.
Invited into Segreant Jenny's office, I, though still gripped with rage over disruption of my plans, strove to contain my anger in order to present a cool exterior. Sergeant Jenny was warm in her approach, thankful for my understanding of the need for the diversion.
"You've been described by Dr Crenshaw as the only person he could imagine capable of taking over in a pinch," Jane opened with a compliment.
"I was under the impression your sister Jane was on this mission with you," I protested, "She went through the security school with me. Jane should be equally qualified to take charge."
"We are faced with a unique situation in River Bend. A wave of layoffs running through the college and hospital in River Bend, the surge in defaults, and the breath of our investigation, has stretched me thin." Jenny advised me. "On top of the usual run of college students who outspend beyond their capacity to repay, as the hospital and University convert from a salaried workforce to indentured labor, I now have to deal with a slew of cooks, clerks, secretaries and young marrieds, pregnant women caught up in the downdraft.
"Other than a surge in numbers," I replied, "the mission sounds routine. Certainly, something your sister Jane could deal with ...easily. But why do you need someone to take over?" I asked suspiciously. "Is there a reason you do not wish to see the investigation through?"
"It's the curse of having been indentured to the Institute by my father," Jenny replied, "when I was in Nursing School and allowed to continue until graduation. With Mary, whom you see outside and other pregnant women we pick up likely to go into labor, I have to be available. Now," Jenny, taking a breath, suggested," I 'd like to take a bit of the sting out of your diversion here. Let's get your promotion picture taken."
Pointing the way, Jenny commanded, "Out in the corridor, get your butt up on the tailor's platform and get your clothes off."
As I stepped onto the raised octagonal platform,.I declared, "Cute and functional. A tailor's platform to define where indentured slavery begins and freedom ends. Where did the idea come from?"
"According to legend," Jenny explained, "a tailor was repossessed along with his property. That came here."
I chuckled, "Likely, when that platform came here, his inventory ended up split between Institute Headquarters and our thrift shops. After meeting the surgeon for eh--alterations, the tailor was shipped to auction."
"LT Bernie's likely fate. That brings us to the real mission in River Bend," Jenny raised the real purpose of the diversion, "Start getting your clothes off."
Removing my jacket and folding it, I asked, "After my clothes are off, do I end up behind the wire with Mary?"
Drawing a deep breath, Jenny opened a file folder and gazed at a glossy official photo of a nude man, "Now I can see you're prepared to discuss the real problem."
Jenny passed me the picture depicting a six-foot-tall young man. Curly black hair coated his naked body. Jenny scrutinizing the throbbing erection depicted in LT BERNIE's official photo, observed, "Lt Bernie holds a magic sway over men and women."
"Shouldn't I insist you strip naked and join me?" I snickered as I unbuttoned my blouse and swept it off my shoulders. Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra and slipped it off, letting my DD breasts bounce in front of her eyes. "We can celebrate my promotion upcoming by cumming together."
