Reflected light from the surrounding towers shattered against the sharp angles of the sky lit mezzanine. A woman clad only in heels strode confidently down the concourse, the clicks of her stilettos reverberating from the walls. The vast hall was otherwise silent, hushed, with every surface polished to a glossy sheen including the marble floor which seemed to be cut from a singular slab of cold stone. Her measured steps seemed forceful enough to crack the surface but not even a mark could be seen as she traversed the open space. Her statuesque figure turned the heads of even the most jaded of this place, this city of glass and steel.
Her golden blond hair was tied back in a severe bun and her face framed by antique spectacles that served no functional purpose. Her breasts swung like a metronome, her areola hypnotic points that attracted the eye. Upon closer examination, she wore a jeweled choker and matching cuffs. Her skin was perfectly depilated except for a subtle tuft above her pubis and she wore no other jewelry except the glitter in her eyes.
Her buttocks flexed as she walked, their curvature as pristine as the arching louvres of metal that soared over the mezzanine. In the middle of the open space a security kiosk was manned by bored guards wearing conservative suits. They looked up, took note of her perfection for a moment, and nodded her through.
She belonged to this place, and this place had consumed her. Someday, it would be done with her, but for now she entered the maw of beast that had taken possession of her life. As she rode the glass elevator to the top floor, she thought of the moments that had brought her to this place.
* * *
The judgement had been swift and efficient. Isabelle hadn't expected otherwise as she waited at the courtroom dock. Her family finances were in shambles, and this was the logical way out from total ruin. In this time of crisis, a shadow of the old ways had been resurrected in order to solve the problems of the new.
She stood in front of a robed judge who peered at various papers on his desk as he asked, "May I ask why you chose this route instead of marriage?"
She gave a wry grin, "I didn't feel like being tied down."
If her sarcasm registered with the judge, he didn't show it. He nodded, accepting the answer as sufficient. The judge adjusted his glasses, "With all provisions being met, psychological assessments completed, and with sworn agreement by all parties presented, I shall approve this resolution. Your debts shall be cleared by the court in full. The state shall take possession of the material assets, for the agreed upon duration, as collateral for this settlement. The assets in question have appeared before the court for immediate appraisal and collection, is this correct?"
Isabelle nodded, "Yes, your honor."
"Are you fully aware of the details of this settlement and your duties?" She nodded as he continued. "By giving consent, you bestow all rights to your body to the judgement of the court, to be distributed at its will, from this point forward until the completion date for your servitude, dependent upon the final appraisal value. Do you consent and give up all rights?"
She nodded, "I, Isabelle Nora Childs, sound of body and mind, give my full consent and waive my rights as a free citizen of the Protectorate."
"Then, disrobe and present yourself to the court for appraisal," the judge ordered.
The bailiff took hold of her clothes as she took each item off. Isabelle was a fruitful young woman: her alabaster skin was pure as milk, currently flushed from the adrenaline of the moment, and the points of her voluminous breasts and the half-hooded clitoris that peered from the folds of her sex were pink. The rosy flush in her cheeks were alluring, hinting at both an innocent shame as well as curious anticipation. The judge had a moment of discomfort as even he was a bit enamored by the presentation. Her perfectly shaped locks of hair were the color of straw on a summer day. He imagined, for a moment, the smell fresh hay and sunflowers.
Wiping his brow, he ordered, "Turn around please. Yes, present yourself."
Her buttocks were fully formed, and ripe with a hint of peach fuzz. Isabelle had, quite wisely, prepared for the day by having her most intimate regions waxed.
Finally, he gave his assessment, "Upon initial review, barring unknown health issues which will be assessed by a court appointed examiner, I deem that the assets are in order and quite suitable for the purposes at hand. I declare that the assets will be held in trust by the state to be auctioned for bonded servitude for no more, or less, than a period of ten years." He swung his gavel as Isabelle bowed her head.
Once the settlement had been made, and her status medically cleared, Isabelle was put on the block for public service with a group of others who had sold themselves into bondage to settle debts or finance careers and education. Her auction number was Lot 5301-A, although they were allowed nicknames for convenience. Isabelle had chosen for herself, her middle name: Norma.
She fingered the plaque hung around her neck as she waited under the hot lights. As her number came closer she nervously eyed the crowd from the roped off holding area behind the stage. It was a mixed group of buyers, evenly divided between men and women. The women were mostly housewives or mistresses, some wearing privacy veils, from well to do households looking for servants. There was no practical demand for this type of chattel servitude in the normal population except for bragging rights. In these times, the wealthy had become bored with the usual status symbols, so had established a new one, or resurrected an ancient one, depending on one's point of view.
Next to Norma, there was an exotic beauty also awaiting her turn on the block. Dark haired and thin, the almond-eyed girl stood restlessly, hopping from one bare foot to another.
She whispered, "This has been going on for hours. I need to pee."
"Same here," Norma smiled. "Would it be scandalous if we just went right here?"
