Judicial Punishment Lottery - Interlude
By Gortmundy.
Readers, I thoroughly enjoy feedback. Please feel free to add comments.
This story takes place sometime after episode 4.
The story borrows heavily from the concepts and writings of GentlemanMariner and John_Doe_Stories
Margo DeVries rose and stretched a little unsteadily as she prepared to exit the aircraft. The flight across the Atlantic had been a typically tedious one but at least her boredom had been alleviated by the ministrations of her pleasure slave Sally, whose delightful tongue and skilful fingers had provided some relief from the tedium and had coaxed more than one gentle climax from her during the flight. That, plus a generous amount of the complimentary champagne they served in first class had made the trip quite bearable.
Normally such sexual behaviour was frowned upon aboard commercial aircraft, but in first class, some rules could be bent, some simply ignored, and the flight attendants in first class were used to turning a blind eye to the little foibles of their wealthy passengers.
She regarded Sally fondly and looked forward to reaching the hotel so she could allow herself to be properly pampered. She didn't consider herself a particularly cruel mistress, but the little pleasure slave had spilt some champagne earlier and she was quite looking forward to administering a light punishment. Nothing too arduous of course, perhaps a spanking and maybe a few strokes with her crop. She was quite fond of sally, who was actually a rather good and agreeable slave, young perhaps at only nineteen years, and somewhat inexperienced, having been a slave for only a year but she was well worth the expense.
Sally had been sentenced to four years of enslavement due to unpaid debts and destitution. It was a typically tragic case thought Margo sadly. The young woman had obtained a loan to pay for medical bills for an ailing mother but of course, had been completely unable to keep up the repayments. Much of her auction price had gone towards repaying those same debts making the slave slightly more expensive than usual, but she really was quite a lovely creature. Margo and her husband had enjoyed using her a few times together and of course, she had shown her off at her bridge club and had fond memories of the little slave crawling under the table to pleasure her friends.
Margo smiled brightly at the slave, "Oh do cheer up Sally, Scotland is a quite lovely country, I'm sure we'll have a marvellous time."
Sally smiled dutifully, "Yes mistress."
Margo looked around as she approached the customs gate. She had heard that Glasgow was a terribly dreary-looking place and looked forward to travelling up to her friend's private lodge in the Highlands. She could play golf, take in the splendid scenery, and perhaps do a little grouse shooting.
Checking that her valet Carlton had collected all the luggage she strolled idly towards the customs desk with Sally obediently following behind. "Oh Carlton, do you have the passports to hand?"
"Yes Mrs DeVries, I have them right here."
Carlton was a free man, an employee of her husband's, and Margo relied on him to manage her travel arrangements, a task he had accomplished admirably as always, and of course, it certainly helped that he was a very handsome fellow. In fact, she had decided to send Sally to his room after she was done with her as a sort of reward. She really did enjoy keeping her employees happy after all and she was sure Sally wouldn't mind, not that it mattered of course.
Taking the proffered passports from her valet she handed them over to the customs chap to check as she stood there smiling at him. The man had a typically stern appearance, but Margo was used to dealing with underlings, airport officials and petty bureaucrats, and she paid it little mind. Soon she would be away from this tiresome place and off to see the romantic lochs and mountains of this beautiful country. She had already boasted to Sally that she practically felt like a native, after all, one of her great grandparents had been Scottish.
The customs fellow examined the passports carefully and paused. He looked at Sally and appeared to be taking note of the collar around her neck. His eyes narrowed and beckoned for her to approach, "What's your name, Miss?"
"Sally, Sir."
"Hmm, it says here on your passport that your name is Elizabeth Foster, is that not the case?"
Sally looked down nervously, "Er, you see, it was but..."
Margo interjected impatiently, "What appears to be the problem? The young woman is obviously with me so can we just get on with this?"
The customs man barely spared her a glance, "I'm talking to the young lady. Step back and be quiet."
"I BEG your pardon!"
He ignored her and to Margo's annoyance continued to speak to Sally, "Elizabeth, what is your relationship with this woman?"
Sally blushed and hung her head before replying in a quiet voice, "I'm her slave, Sir."
"Oh aye, is that so? And would you mind telling me what function you served as her slave?"
Shame burned on her face, but Sally knew that as a slave she had no choice but to answer. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she spoke, "I'm her pleasure slave and body-servant Sir."
"Hmm, that's what I thought," he gestured, and two more customs officers approached, "if you would be so kind as to step through that wee gate there just to your left and go join my two companions over there please they'll see about getting that stupid collar off ye. In the meantime, I need to explain something to whatsherface here. Dinnae worry lass, you've no done anything wrong okay."
Margo was furious as a confused-looking Sally timidly followed the officer's instructions, and she almost shouted at the insufferable little man, "What the Hell is going on here! I demand to know what you are doing with my property?"
"Aye well, about that. Did you read up on anything about Scotland before you decided to grace us with yer visit?"
"Excuse me?"
"I didnae think so but if you had you might have been interested to know that slavery is illegal here in Scotland for one thing."
"That is preposterous. I have friends in London, and they all have domestic slaves."
The customs man shook his head incredulously and gave a long-suffering sigh, "Well London, unless it's moved suddenly, isn't in Scotland. That would be England. Just go south for a few hundred miles or so and you cannae miss it."
"Don't be facetious! I happen to know for a fact that slavery is perfectly legal in Great Britain. Now I demand you return my property, in fact, I demand to speak to your supervisor."
"You can demand all you like; my supervisor is far too busy to pander to the likes of you. But just so you know Scotland is an independent country, as is Ireland these days, and slavery is not legal either here nor there. It is, admittedly legal in England and Wales which might I suppose, explain your confusion, but that doesn't help you right now. Your property, as you call her, became free the second she set foot in this country. She's currently been seized, if you want to use that term, and made a ward of the state. You can file a complaint if you like, in fact, here's a form to do just that. Just complete that form and hand it in, preferably to someone else. Best of luck."
"You can't just take my property!"
