Aspen and the Auditor

Author's Note: This story takes place in a similar universe to the 34th amendment stories by Carl-Bradford, Gentlemanmariner, Joe Doe among many others. I got to thinking as I read their stories, "what happens to the slave traders and handlers that break the law. How are they regulated? This chapter contains quite a bit that is mean spirited as Aspen tells the story of her time in jail and her trial. That's a trigger warning if you didn't catch that.

Federal Slave Auditor Arthur Frost has taken possession of his new slave, 01101001101513180 whom he as decided to call Aspen met and she began the story of her arrest and initial incarceration. She also met with slave Psychologist, James Samuels, who believes he can remove the attachment conditioning that is endangering her mental health. After her appointment, Arthur and Aspen retired to his study to continue her story.

Aspen and the Auditor Chapter 3

Part I

Arthur closed the door to his study and he looked at his slave. "Aspen," he began, "how is your..."

She smiled at his awkwardness. "My ass is still a little sore, Master."

Arthur sat back down on the sofa and asked Aspen if she would like more of the pain cream.

"I think that is a wonderful idea, Master," she agreed readily and once again draped herself across his lap. Arthur placed more of the analgesic cream on Aspen's welts and began to gently rub it in, again.

"Aspen, I read in your records that you have an Uncle Robert and an Aunt Amanda in Columbus, is that correct?"

"Yes," she replied, "Uncle Robert is my mother's brother. They didn't get into trouble too, did they, Master?"

"No, no," Arthur said quickly, "they're fine. Do you know how to reach them? Would you like to call them and tell them that you are safe?"

Aspen perked up immediately. "Really? You'd let me do that?"

Arthur nodded and pulled his phone out. Aspen gave him Robert's number and he dialed it. After a moment, a man answered.

"Hello," the voice said hesitantly.

"Is this Robert Carlson," Arthur asked.

"Yes, who is this? We're not interested in talking to the press."

Arthur put the phone on speaker and positioned it so it would pick up Aspen's voice. She was all smiles.

"My name is Arthur Frost, Mr. Carlson. I have someone here who would very much like to speak to you."

Arthur nodded toward the phone. "Go ahead. Speak freely."

"Uncle Robert," Aspen called out happily.

"Aspen? Is that you," Robert sounded stupefied, "Amanda! Come quick. Aspen is on the phone!"

Arthur winced at the squeals from the phone and from Aspen but he was smiling just the same. He was almost as happy as Aspen over the reunion.

"I'm safe," Aspen said finally to her aunt and uncle, "Mr. Frost is protecting me. He's going to help."

"If he owns you," her aunt said, "why can't he just free you?"

"Because of her conviction, Mrs. Carlson," Arthur answered. "If I tried to free Aspen, they'd simply taken her away from me and we can't chance that."

"Look, Mr. Frost," Uncle Robert began, "we want to believe you. I know who you are by reputation. When we learned Aspen was to be sold as a slave, I did a lot of research. I know who you are and what you do."

"Then please know, Mr. Carlson, that I intend to prove Aspen's innocence and see her freedom restored."

"Could you...could you 'lend' her to us while you do that," Amanda Carlson asked.

"I'm afraid it is more complicated than that," Arthur said.

Robert became upset, "Oh, you just want to keep her there with you? Are you having fun with my niece?"

"Uncle Robert," Aspen said soothingly, "he hasn't touched me like that, not really. And he's kept anyone else from touching or hurting me since he bought me.

"Is that true," Robert asked, shocked.

"Yes," Arthur affirmed, "I have no intention of taking your niece against her will. Ever."

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the phone. "Then I owe you an apology," Robert said. Arthur told him there were no apologies needed.

"May we see her," Aspen's aunt asked.

"I think that is a wonderful idea," Arthur said immediately.

"Really, Master," Aspen asked, excited.

"Absolutely. Mr. Carlson, I'll send my address to you. I'm just outside Philadelphia, is that okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Frost. We can come as early as this weekend if that's okay."

Arthur assured the Carlson's that they'd make arrangements and they were welcome to come. They would see their niece this weekend.

Aspen jumped up and hugged Arthur when they hung up. "I can never thank you enough," she said.

"You can. By never putting me in a position where I must punish you again. I did not enjoy that, Aspen," he told her. In his thoughts he wanted to say that it broke his heart.

"I'll do my best," she promised, "Are you ready for me to continue my story, Master?"

"Yes," Arthur said and patted his lap. She laid back down and he resumed gently rubbing her buttocks. Arthur pressed the record button on his remote and he said, "Continue, please."

"The cell was dark..."

Part II

... and I was tired, scared, and angry all at once. It was so dark that I only knew that I had slept because I was woken up later by a blinding light from the hallway and the female guard throwing a jumpsuit at me, ordering me to wake up and put it on. There was no underwear and I asked the guard about where it was.

"Shut up, cunt and put the jumpsuit on. Your lawyer is waiting for you. You can meet with him naked for all I care."

I quickly put the jumpsuit on without further complaint. It smelled and I doubted it was clean but I didn't want the family lawyer to see me naked. The guard put the hobble-shackles on my legs and cuffed my hands behind my back. She told me that if I made any noise during transit that she would "cunt punt me back into my cell" when the meeting was over.

I was led to an interview room where I was attached to the table. My guard stood behind me the whole time I was waiting. Eventually, a small man with wire glasses came into the room and he dismissed the guard. She left with an almost comical sneer.

"Hello, Miss Myers," the man said, "may I call you Aspen?"

"Who are you, Where is Mr. Perez," I asked.

"I am Roger Leeds, your attorney."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "my attorney is Desmond Perez. Dez has been my family attorney for years."

"I'm afraid Mr. Perez has been arrested as an accessory to you and your family's crimes."

"I didn't commit any crimes," I shouted.

Mr. Leeds was unphased. "Be that as it may, I'm your public defender and all of your assets have been frozen so I'm afraid I'm who you are stuck with."

I sobbed. I hated this man for his seeming uncaring attitude. I hated my parents for leaving me to face their punishment. And I hated myself for appearing weak in front of these people. But the worst was yet to come.

"Your trial begins in two days," Mr. Leeds said, "It will likely only last one day; there will be no jury. The Department of Justice has offered you a deal which I urge you to take. Plead guilty and you will face thirty years of penal enslavement. At the end of that term, you will be homed in a halfway house where you will reside in peace and comfort until your death."

"I am not guilty," I reminded the little ambulance chaser.

"If you fight this Aspen," he said as if I never said anything to him, "and you are found guilty...well it won't be pleasant."

"How much more unpleasant can it get," I snapped.

"Under the updated Sedition Act of 2027, if you are found guilty, they may execute you, publicly, by firing squad."

I gasped. That was pretty damn unpleasant.

"Or," he continued, "they may enslave you for the rest of your natural life, selling you to the highest bidder. Which, considering the nature of your crimes, will likely be to a work camp as 'relief' for the workers. You will be used vaginally, orally, and anally all day, every day, for the rest of your life. And relief slaves tend to only last five years before they die of exhaustion."

I slammed my fists on the table and screamed, "I did NOT COMMIT ANY CRIMES!"

Mr. Leeds stood up and calmly said, "Think about this overnight. I'll be back tomorrow." He opened the door and called for the guard before looking back. "For what it is worth, Aspen. I believe you."

My guard game in and snarled, "You need to be more polite, cunt."

She unlocked me from the table and literally dragged me down the hall and into another room. I was put up against a wall, facing it, and chained in place by chains that were dangling from the ceiling. I heard a ratcheting noise behind me and the chains rose, taking me with them until only my toes could touch the floor. The guard produces a long, sharp pair of shears and she went about destroying my jumpsuit, rendering me naked once again.

The guard then grabbed a large wooden paddle with holes cut out of it. She made sure I saw it before positioning herself behind me. I had no chance to even react, she began to beat my back, ass, and legs with it. I howled in pain and all she said was, "that's it, Cunt. Scream as loud as you can. Remind the other inmates why manners matter."

She beat me without mercy for several minutes. It wasn't a spanking like you did; it was a beating.

When the guard was done, she pulled a lever on the wall and the chains released from the ceiling. I collapsed in pain, fear, and exhaustion on the floor. She stood over me, brandishing the paddle's handle at me.

"Once you're collared for real, I'm shoving this up your ass."

I heard the ratcheting noise again and the guard brought the chains up just enough to pull my arms vertical. She told me that she didn't want me playing with myself and making her punishment room smell like a cannery. She turned out the light and shut the door behind her, leaving me in darkness.

Part III

Arthur stopped the recording. Aspen was visibly upset.

"Do you need a drink, Aspen," Arthur asked, "water, tea, juice?"

"No, Master. I just need a moment need a moment to gather myself," she assured him.

"You have nothing to fear from any of these people ever again. When we're done with our work together, you will either be free or here with me, forever."

Aspen sat up and blinked at Arthur in surprise. "What if I'm free but I still want to stay here with you?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "I think it may be a little early to discuss that," he said, "and until Doctor Samuels releases you from his care, we will NOT talk about that."

"I understand, Master. But your kindness. I know I said this already but I can never repay you."

Arthur kissed Aspen on her bald pate. He wanted to kiss her for real but he was reminding himself that he must stick to his code. He must not take advantage of this helpless girl.

"Do you want to move to a chair, or do you want to stay here on the sofa," he asked Aspen.

"I'd like to stay here with you, Master. Your hand feels really good." Aspen laid back down and Arthur resumed his touch.

"Are you ready to continue?"

Aspen nodded and Arthur restarted the recording...

Part IV

Eventually light flooded the room and my guard came back in. She silently undid my chains and I fell back in a heap. She pulled me to my feet and re-cuffed me behind my back. I was marched to a room with shower nozzles, uncuffed, and ordered to clean myself.

My ass hurt so much that even water running down it hurt unimaginably. Even so, I was relieved to be getting clean and relieved that I was able to bathe myself.

After I was clean, I was led to a cafeteria and told to sit. Naturally, I didn't want to sit on the hard plastic stool with my ass throbbing in pain even now.

My guard grabbed my shoulders and said, "Sit CUNT," as she shoved me down. My vision went white but I forced myself not to cry out. My cuffs were removed again and I was allowed to eat but my guard never left my side. And yes, I was the only woman there who was naked. The rest of the room stared at me. Any time I looked up or my eating slowed she would slap me and order me to eat.

After I finished breakfast, I was paraded through the jail again and returned to my cell. For the third time, I was left in darkness for several hours. This pattern repeated itself for lunch and dinner.

The next morning was almost a mirror of the previous day, only this time I was taken to the interview room stark naked. My guard refused to give me a new jumpsuit, stating that I was on report for being rude to my lawyer the day before.

To Mr. Leed's credit, he was very upset when he saw me still naked. He glared at the guard who returned his stare with a smug smile.

"Aspen," he asked, "have you thought about what I said yesterday?"

"I did, Mr. Leeds. I am not guilty and I will not take a plea deal admitting to something I never did."

Mr. Leeds looked very unhappy with me but my guard smiled. He shooed the guard out and we spent the rest of the day discussing my case and making a defense strategy. It hinged on the fact that when my parents were committing their crimes that I was in college and not living at home. Mr. Leeds tried to look hopeful for my sake but I could see he was acting. He looked sad. After Mr. Leeds left, I was taken to dinner and then returned to my cell for the night.

Before my guard left me for the night she grabbed me by my hair and said, "I hope you get the death penalty, cunt. The whole week before your execution they'll put you in a gynecological chair in the common room from dawn to dusk. Everyone, guard and prisoner alike, will be allowed to use you in any way they want."

I spent the night staring into the darkness of my cell. I remembered my history; trials like this never went well for the defendants. It made me think specifically of the Salem Witch Trials.

My cell door opened hours later. This time, I was led naked directly to the shower. Once again, I was allowed to clean myself and even wash my hair with real shampoo. From the shower, I was led to the interview room where Mr. Leeds was waiting for me.

Mr. Leeds had been allowed to bring real food in for me, which I gratefully ate while he went over a few details. Today would be the preliminary arraignment. It may take hours; it may take minutes. He indicated that if it took longer the odds would be more in my favor. If it was short, then the judge may have already made up their mind.

My lawyer handed me a bag and my guard undid my shackles. The bag was full of clothing. My clothing! He had my clothing from home. Someone had selected my best dress and shoes. They also selected some of my makeup. The underwear, however: not mine. There was a demi-cup bra which at best would hold my girls in place but would do nothing to hide the real estate. The panties were nothing more than a tiny triangle of fabric with a few strings.

Mr. Leeds saw the look on my face. "I'm sorry, Aspen, but if you look more attractive it may sway the judge. It is sexist but it is a fact."

Regardless, I realized I didn't care and I dressed quickly. It felt good to be back in clothing again and as much as I was trying to be hopeful, I knew it wasn't likely that I'd be allowed to be dressed for long.

Mr. Leeds allowed my guard to re-shackle me and I was led down a long hallway that I surmised was a tunnel that led to the nearby courthouse.

Within a few minutes, I was sitting in the defendant's chair of a courtroom with Mr. Leeds beside me. At the other table sat a smug man in a pinstripe suit. The judge came in and we all stood up.

The judge told us to sit and he asked the clerk to read the charges to him. I wasn't just charged with sedition; there had to be ten counts. Ten counts of my parents fucking around that was now all but guaranteed to end my life one way or another.

"Miss Myers," the judge asked, "do you understand your charges?"

"Yes, Your Honor," I replied.

"Do you understand the seriousness of these charges?"

"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Leeds has been very careful in explaining everything to me."

"Very good," he said. "How do you plead, Miss Myers?"

"Not guilty, Your Honor," I said proudly, looking him in the eye.

The judge looked at me and then at Mr. Leeds. "Counselor, does she understand what she is risking by pleading not guilty?"

"She does, Your Honor. She is acting against my advice."

"Understood, counselor," the judge said. He looked from Mr. Leeds and me to the prosecutor. "The trial begins tomorrow at 9:00. As you are aware this trial has been deemed a special circumstance and will be done by a tribunal and not by a jury. Bailiff, please see to it the accused is returned to her cell." He banged the gavel.

The rest of my day was spent between my cell and meals. Mr. Leeds made the guard let me keep my underwear on and leave me with a jumpsuit. I spent the night sleeping fitfully. I knew I had to sleep but it wasn't coming easy. When I was awake, I ran my fingers around my collar, imagining what it would be like to wear one like it for the rest of my life.

The next morning, I was taken back to the interview room. Mr. Leeds was waiting for me with breakfast and a change of clothes. This time the underwear was much plainer; simpler. The dress, too, was one of my simpler ones.

Mr. Leeds said, "If you're found guilty, they will strip you at that moment. The clothes will literally be cut from you, so I thought I'd spare the nicer clothes from being ruined. If you're bought by a private owner, they'll be turned over to them."

Mr. Leed's gave me a hug and we all walked back to the courtroom.

Three judges entered the court room and the lead judge, the one from my arraignment, called the case to order.

At just 22 years old, I found myself standing before a tribunal of judges in a courtroom filled with an oppressive air, accused of a crime I didn't commit -- sedition. As my gaze shifted to my public defender, Roger Leeds, a sense of dread settled over me, casting shadows on my hope for justice.

The room was stifling, the atmosphere thick with tension as I faced the stern faces of the judges. Roger's expression held a mix of determination and frustration, mirroring the turmoil inside me. He had fought relentlessly for my innocence, despite the growing pile of circumstantial evidence against me.

"Your Honors," Mr. Leeds began, his voice carrying a conviction that belied the odds stacked against us, "I urge you to look beyond the surface of the accusations. My client, Aspen Myers, was attending college during the timeframe in question. We have documented proof and credible eyewitnesses that place her miles away from any seditious activity. I have a number of witnesses that have been entered into record."

My grip on the podium tightened as I held my composure, recounting the mundane details of my life during the alleged seditious acts -- lectures, study groups, and the support of my friends. But my testimony seemed fragile in the face of the gravity of the charges. My friends' testimonies were weak. They seemed afraid to associate themselves with me anymore than they had to. The prosecution tore them apart.

The trial unfolded like a relentless storm, with Mr. Leeds tirelessly presenting evidence, expert testimonies, and passionate arguments for my innocence. Yet, the hours ticked on, and it was evident that the judges' minds had already been shaped by their own biases.

"Miss Myers," one of the judges addressed me, her voice colder than the harsh reality that loomed, "your personal circumstances don't erase the fact that your parents were involved in seditious activities. Sedition disrupts the delicate balance of our society, and we must take these matters seriously."

Roger's gaze met mine briefly, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. Despite his valiant efforts, the tribunal remained unyielding in their conviction that I was guilty by association.