Lizzie

"This court sentences you to five years of penal slavery. As much restitution as possible will be made from your former assets. Once your term has been completed, full citizenship and the rights that go with it will be restored to you."

The judge looked soberly at the petite, trim, attractive dark-haired housewife. The woman had trouble meeting his gaze.

"It is hoped that you will have learned the errors of your ways, young woman, and that this shall be your last appearance in the dock. Bailiff, remand the prisoner. Case dismissed!"

The judge slammed his gavel smartly on the bench, breaking the silence of the room.

Lizzie Walker exchanged hugs with her attorney. Brenda had really earned her pay. Originally the prosecutor was arguing for a fifteen-year sentence. Lizzie's attorney had talked them down to a third of the time. Still, it meant the life the twenty-six-year-old housewife had known was at an end.

What awaited her, was a vast sea of unknowns and fears. The bailf gently separated the attorney and client and led Lizzie off to the processing wing. Lizzie wiped the tears from her eyes as she strode down the tiled floor. The trek ended at a large white door with the words, "Slave Processing" in large red letters upon frosted glass. The bailiff used his key card and the door swung open. Lizzie's ID badge was passed to the bored-looking clerk just beyond the doorway and Lizzie entered the slave processing center proper. A hefty woman who clearly enjoyed her job and wore a starched blue uniform eyed Lizzie head to toe and barked, "Strip! Everything, including hair extensions and fake nails."

Lizzie stood in a daze for a moment.

"Get to it, slave!" barked the woman as she menaced Lizzie with her billy club.

Lizzie hastened to remove the expensive business suit she had bought specifically for this court appearance. She placed it, her underwear, and her shoes in a little wheeled caddy which transported everything out of view. Vaguely, Lizzie recalled that all confiscated slave property was auctioned off. Next came her jewelry, her earrings, the necklace of a heart which opened to reveal pictures of her husband and daughter. Though Ted would no longer be her husband at midnight. Upon that hour, Mrs. Lizzie Walker's marriage would be officially severed by the state as would her parental rights as she became simply a numbered slave owned by the state for the next five years and sold to the highest bidder to attempt to recoup financially what she had embezzled from her employer. Lastly, and with tears in her eyes, she twisted off her wedding band and engagement ring. She could have left them with Ted, but the state would have claimed them from him when they impounded her possessions, car, jewelry, family heirlooms, and anything else of value. For that reason, Lizzie chose to hold on to her marital jewelry until the last possible moment.

Ted would be forced to give the state half the value of the house that was in both their names and could retain only what the courts and the state agreed was his property alone and what he had brought into the marriage. Lizzie really did begin crying when she considered the financial hurt she had placed on Ted. With luck, he would be able to retain the house and make a fresh start. Lizzie understood that she would probably not see Ted for five long years. By then, he would, no doubt, be remarried, and her daughter, Jeannie, would see her as a half-forgotten stranger!

For perhaps the ten-thousandth time since her arrest, Lizzie cursed her gambling addiction. Her hunger for the slots and high-stakes games of chance had led her to start diverting her employer's operating funds. She had been caught, but not before she had done almost irreparable harm to the corporation. And for what? She had literally nothing to show for her chicanery. Not a bigger house, nicer car, pool, or real estate. No, every farthing had found its way into the coffers of her city's casinos. She'd lied to her employer, lied to her husband and family, lied to the accountants, lied to the police. In the end, she ran out of people to lie to.

Feeling more naked than ever before, she squatted, coughed, spread her cheeks, lifted her feet, opened her mouth, was probed fore and aft, and allowed the matron to run her fingers through her long ebony hair. Then, it was off to the final station where her slave ID number, her only identity from this point on, was inscribed upon the back of her left hand in special ink by a skilled tattooist. From there, it was off to the showers and a delousing before being escorted to a cell. Since slaves were auctioned off buck naked, the state had little incentive to provide them uniforms. Lizzie threw herself onto her cot, gazed in disbelief at her tattoo, and burst into tears anew. By some miracle, she eventually stumbled into slumber.

Guards, both male and female awoke Lizzie and her fellow slaves very early the next AM by pounding on the bars, pipes, and walls with their billy clubs.

"All right, dirtbags! Form a line in the center aisle and march towards the black door. Today is the first day of the rest of your life or the rest of your sentence whichever comes first!" barked a huge guard who looked like he just stepped off a Marine Corps recruiting poster. He eyed Lizzie lustfully as she fell in line. She was very much worth looking at. No more than five-foot-two, she was trim and toned everywhere, with a cascade of ebony locks that marvelously complemented her flawless ivory skin, carmine lips, and crystal blue eyes. Her legs were quite shapely and seemed quite long despite her short stature. The huge guard loomed over Lizzie,

"Holy shit! Ain't you one first-class piece of ass? Wish I could get you alone for an hour or so. What a great fuck toy you are going to make."

Lizzie teared up. She realized that if he wanted to, this giant could do anything he wished to her without repercussions. Lizzie was a thing now in the eyes of the law, and when did things ever have rights?

"Jenkins! Screamed a guard with a gold fringe on her uniform, "Knock it off! Leave the intimidation to her future owner!"

The huge man donned a sheepish expression, "Sorry chief."

"Don't let it happen again, Jenkins."

The trip past the next door opened to a large room where Lizzie's hair was brushed and combed, salve was placed under her eyes to take away the bags that had developed from stress, lack of sleep, and crying. Drops were placed in her eyes to eliminate the redness. Lastly, she was given an injection which left her feeling mellow and made her much more manageable

The next several hours fr Lizzie passed, as planned, in a blur. The long wait, the injection of the nanobots which would end her cycle and keep her infertile, the trip through the underground tunnel to emerge on the selling floor of the auditorium, being strapped to the human-sized frame under the spotlight and rotated 360 degrees. It was only when she was led to her final holding cell, waiting to be claimed by her "owner" (God, how Lizzie hated that word!) that the effects of the drug began to fade. Then, all at once, Lizzie returned to herself and the events of the past few hours fell upon her like a collapsing wall.

A guard approached her cell with someone in tow. Lizzie was so frightened that her eyes remained focused a few inches above the floor.

"Here she is, sir" came the voice of the guard followed by, "Assume the position, slave."

Lizzie understood what was expected of her. She fell to her knees. A pair of civilian trousers appeared in her view. Lizzie realized that this was a view she would become very familiar with over the next five years. She gazed up to the beltline. After a pause for a deep breath, her fingers went to the fly f the trousers and fished out the erect penis behind the boxers. It was larger than average and quite girthy. Lizzie gave it a tentative lick. She performed a very respectable session of fellatio, given the circumstances, but Lizzie had always enjoyed sucking cock and seldom did a bad job at it. The owner of the penis grunted as he came and Lizzie dutifully swallowed every drop. Lizzie restored the penis to the trousers.

"Rise, slave," came an eerily familiar voice. Lizzie stood up. Standing before her was her former boss, Mr. Douglas Hamilton! Pervy Mr. Hamilton. The man who always tried t peer down Lizzie's blouses and up her skirts. The creepy boss who made inappropriate and sexist jokes. The cad who came to the company Christmas party wearing a belt that dangled mistletoe above his junk and thought it was a first-rate gag. The creep HR could do nothing about since he owned nearly all the company stock. The man Lizzie had felt no qualms about stealing blind because he was such a perv. THAT Douglas Hamilton!

Lizzie gasped. She felt like retching.

"I am SO going to enjoy this, slave!" said her old boss before breaking into a hearty chuckle.

"Mr. Hamilton!" Lizzie managed to gasp at last.

"You will address me as''SIR `` or''MASTER `` is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" replied Lizzie as she swallowed hard.

"Come!" barked the middle-aged, balding man. He extended his hand and grabbed one of Lizzie's.

The new slave was at sea as her former boss led her out a door and into a parking lot and into the back of a limousine.

"I know what you are thinking," stated the older man as the limo rolled away from the curb. "How can I afford to buy a slave or own a chauffer-driven limo, when you drove me to the point of bankruptcy?"

He had anticipated Lizzie's questions.

"Funny story. It turned out that among my former company's assets were some still valid patents that were worth a great deal to certain industries for which they were willing to pay handsomely. Ironically enough, some of the work on these patents was performed by your former husband. Since you've been incarcerated, I've begun a new company, though I have retained some of my old employees. Yes, Ted still works for me. It was quite clear that he played no part in your embezzlement scheme. His work took him nowhere near finances. Naturally, I was royally pissed at him, but as the situation became clearer, I developed some sympathy for the man. He was betrayed as much as I was. Perhaps more. You've neatly wrecked his life as much as you nearly wrecked mine. For those reasons, I kept him on. Not that I don't rub his nose in it every chance I get. I do have my reputation as a total bastard to preserve after all!"

The businessman laughed heartily, eyed Lizzie wolfishly, and stated.

"Slide onto my lap. We are going to neck until I get hard again."

For Lizzie, everything became a waking nightmare. In her old life, she had had nightmares about being pawed at by her boss, and now it had come to pass. As his hated lips met hers Lizzie tried to think of pleasant things and to pretend that these were Ted's lips she was kissing. It helped somewhat. He broke off the clinch.

"You have NO idea how long I've wanted to see you naked!" he stated enthusiastically. Actually, Lizzie had a very good idea how long Mr. Hamilton had been lusting after her. He undressed her with his eyes upon their first meeting.

"I'm rock hard again. It's time for me to cum inside that beautiful pussy of yours."

"Oh my God!" whimpered Lizzie in despair as Mr. Hamilton undid his belt and tugged down his pants. He lifted Lizzie into the air and centered her vagina above his pole. Without ceremony, he lowered her and began pumping away. Lizzie realized to her horror that as Mr. Hamilton progressed, she was coming closer and closer to orgasm. "Was there something else in those nanobots?" she asked herself before the decidedly unwanted orgasm tore through her body.

"Christ!" gasped Lizzie as she came while Mr. Hamilton laughed and laughed.

Lizzie felt the lowest of her life as the limo pulled to a stop before a large house with a huge lawn.

"Yes, I have come up in the world. In some ways, I suppose I should thank you. I might have not pursued those patents so vigorously if my back had not been up against the wall. But then I recalled that I would be several million dollars at least richer if not for your malfeasance. Millions I intend to extract from you one fuck at a time!"

"Please, Mr. Hamilton, sir, be gentle with me."

"The way you were gentle on my finances?"

"I'm sorry, Sir! I truly most sincerely am."

"No, you are only sorry you got caught. If the law hadn't stepped in you'd still be looting my accounts and flushing it down the slots. Maybe I could have been a bit forgiving if your theft had gone to support a college fund for your kid or to aid an invalid mother but for gambling when you suck so badly at gambling? HELL NO!"

"I've learned my lesson, Sir."

"No, you haven't, but you will!"

Lizzie choked back a sob.

"Time to go inside my petite property," stated the older man.

Lizzie had no choice but to allow Mr. Hamilton to lead her into the house as the chauffeur who doubled as a bodyguard trailed them wearing a snarl. The door closed behind her and Lizzie realized that she was totally alone with the man she despised the most in the world.

"Alone at last, slave. A few ground rules. First, you will never hear me use your former name in your presence again. You will fuck me every night, suck me off every morning, and live according to my dictates. If you try something stupid like attacking me or trying to kill me, you will be arrested and time will be added to your sentence. If you try to harm me, you will be disciplined severely. I expect immediate responses and behaviors. You are my slave for the next five years. I can use you for collateral on a loan, rent you out to a whorehouse, sell your eggs and one of your kidneys, impregnate you, use you to seal a business deal. Loan you to friends, or cover you head to toe in tattoos. Whether I am a gentle and patient owner or a total and complete nightmare depends entirely upon YOUR behavior. Be sweet, obedient, and eager to please, and your life will be light years better than if you are recalcitrant, disobedient, and morose. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" responded Lizzie

"Good, I'll give you the tour before we end up in my bedroom. You will be spending lots of time there. Often you will be naked, but I have a fondness for rubber, vinyl, mummy wrappings, and lots of lace and nylon. You will be fucked, pegged, trussed up, tittie tortured. Nothing that will draw blood, however. I have quite a vivid imagination and lots of fantasies I would like to see come to fruition. Does any of that excite you, slave?"

"Sir?"

"Suddenly the accountant who loved to flaunt her legs in miniskirts and her boobs in tight sweaters is shy? Trust me, slave, you will come to enjoy all of it. Take my hand."

Lizzie had to admit that Mr. Hamilton had certainly landed on his feet. The house was stupendous, with a pool and hot tub in the back, a gymnasium a YMCA would be proud of, and every luxury item she ever coveted. The tour ended in Mr. Hamilton's spacious bedroom. She sat on the bed and watched him undress. Naked her former boss was not quite the terror Lizzie had expected. Not by any means fit, at least he wasn't tugging around a spare tire. He had a broad hairy chest dusted with gray, His thighs and butt were not bad. Lizzie realized that, physically, she could have done far worse.

"I've had your mouth and pussy. Time to take your ass. Don't worry I buy lube by the tub.," he said with a chuckle while Lizzie desperately hoped that the earth would open up and swallow her.

When she was Ted's wife anal was for special occasions only, His birthday, the annual date making their first date, their daughter's birthday, and Christmas. She understood that was about to change. She didn't belong to gentle and easy-going Ted any longer. Her fate was completely out of her hands. To his credit, Mr. Hamilton entered her slowly, patiently, even dare she rhino it tenderly? Afterward, he gave her a bath, shaved off her luxuriant bush, and had his chef prepare them an exquisite dinner. At no point did ner master provide her with even a suggestion of clothing. Lizzie got drunk on the dinner champagne. The rest of the night was a blur. She woke up in Mr. Hamilton's bed, cum leaking out of her ass and pussy and coating much of her body.. Dutifully she sucked off his morning wood. In exchange, Mr. Hamilton gave her some Tylenol for her hangover.

The next month passed. Thirty-one days of Mr. Hamilton demonstrated in every way possible that he was in charge. Thirty-one days of Mr. Hamilton sapped the fight and resentment out of her. Thirty-one days of Mr. Hamilton turning her from a suburban housewife, mother, and ace accountant into his personal organic fuck toy.

Days spent wrapped like a mummy in darkness and silence while she soiled herself and cried into the bandages. Days spent in leather or vinyl. He turned off and on her senses one by one. Sometimes robbing her of her vision or hearing. Blocking her sense of smell. Isolating every limb and her torso with cool latex until her sense of feeling vanished. Using drugs to take away her sense of taste. Through it all, he emphasized how utterly dependent she was upon him, That her only recourse was to surrender herself to him and trust him totally. To give him everything he asked and more. To anticipate his needs and be prepared at all times for intercourse. To let him make every decision for her, no matter how trivial. To the best of her abilities to make him her god. His success in instilling these new values in her was quite successful.

**

Lizzie had stopped looking at the calendar. She had no idea that more than three months had passed since she had stepped across the threshold of her master's home. She had an all-over tan from nude sunbathing. Mister Hamilton had hired a tattooist to make a house call. She now bore his monogram in red-orange ink on her right butt cheek and thorns and roses about each ankle. She applied herself diligently to her personal trainer's rigid and unforgiving daily exercise regime. Her daily nude weigh-ins assured that she gained no poundage from the sumptuous food. She was lighter now than when she had entered the house, more muscular, sleeker. Sexier. Mr. Hamilton explained that her transformation had to be total. He'd had her shoulder-length hair radically trimmed simply to prove a point. He was allowing her to grow it out currently to reinforce that same point. She left the house on occasion now. Sometimes her master took her shopping or they took in a show and dinner in town. Once they went to the seaside and had a sea excursion on a luxury yacht/ When she wasn't wearing gowns, he dressed her like a fifties housewife. Nylons, garter, heels, brassiere, simple frocks, save with much shorter skirts than June Cleaver ever wore. Like Beaver's mom, Lizzie wore a string of pearls about her neck. Unlike June however, she was always sans panties. All of it was designed to turn her head, to instill in her awe for her master. Every lesson had a moral and a purpose.

Lizzie had absorbed many lessons in her days with Mr. Hamilton. Some had been especially painful. One day he produced her wedding band and engagement ring which he had purchased from her estate sale.

"I know how much these meant to you, slave, and what they represent," he said levelly as he displayed the rings on a tray. He then took a blowtorch and melted the rings into puddles of molten gold. The tray he turned over to a jeweler who repurposed the gold and diamonds into a gorgeous lapel pin in the shape of a nude woman which Mr. Hamilton wore every time he donned a suit. The lesson learned, Lizzie never mentioned Ted's name in her Master's presence again.

On occasion, guests came to Mr. Hamilton's house. Lawyers discussing contracts. Business associates, contractors, and suppliers. Lizzie what not always clothed when these men and women were visiting. Often, she was required to service them in some way. Her mouth did not belong to her. Her asshole did not belong to her. Her pussy did not belong to her. She owned neither her own skin nor hair. Everything was her Master's to give away or share any way he saw fit.