Chapter 2

'The Horseshoe' had originally been built, in brick, by the Victorians. Strictly only the core was horseshoe shaped; thirty-two large cells with barred fronts curving round a large covered area, where military prisoners had been paraded, punished, and exercised to exhaustion, with a narrow entrance closed in by further bars. Facilities were strictly limited. Originally, prisoners, four to a cell, had to use a bucket in one corner, which one of them had to empty – 'slop out' – each morning. The use of the building for captured terrorists during the War had required the installation of a w/c stool and wash basin, both in thick stainless steel in each, but no prisoners remained. Most had been executed, a few enslaved. The building had been neglected for several years and was showing signs of that neglect, but was still fundamentally sound; good bricks, and Portland Cement, had formed the structure.

The Chairman, accompanied by Major Maurice Prestwick, Lieutenant Andrew Whitten and Joshua Sutherland Esquire, had wandered around the central area and were now inspecting the ancillary quarters. "Layers of security," Prestwick said. "Fingerprint or retinal locks on the doors. The incarceration area ought to be safe – concrete, bricks, mortar and steel bars. At worst, a prisoner might contrive to set fire to her bedding, but that ought not to affect the rest. Sprinklers, though. Humph. Locks, keyed to staff identities, on each cell, the main entrance to the core, locked doors to the staff accommodation, magnetic locks to fire doors from the staff area ... air-lock at entrance. All normal access through the air-lock. Humph."

"Expensive, but possible and probably necessary," the Chairman agreed. "Not just to prevent escapes. We need to be concerned about penetration from outside."

The Major nodded. "Yes. Part of my thinking. Your ... trainees? Candidates? Whatever. They'll be quite valuable, no?"

The Chairman, Joshua and Andrew, snorted. The Major looked at them in surprise. "The reason we're doing this is, the women are a problem. If anyone wants them, they could probably have them for free. And yes, two of them will probably be my wife and daughter. But the staff need to be safe and we'd rather the women left under our conditions rather than those of an enemy." The Chairman's voice was rueful. "I'll let Joshua and Andrew fill you in as to the back story. What about staff conditions?"

"Three shifts. Minimum two staff to a shift, 24/7. That's forty-two shifts a week, three hundred and thirty-six man-hours, not counting holidays and sickness. You're not going to get away with fewer than ten full-time staff. If they're living in, with food included, they'll probably come for a lower salary. The ... other working conditions you described might help too." There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said the last. "You say we're interviewing Lieutenant Whitten's platoon? Or some of them?

"That's right," Andrew inserted. "They're not all living locally and one or two of them ... well ... let's say I watched them very carefully when we were on active service."

"What about female staff?" the Major queried.

"We've considered it. Might add a useful element to the training."

"There were four in my platoon," Andrew put in. "They'd have a useful insight into the treatment of women generally. Not that they'd be soft, you understand. And at least two of them were bi – that would add a dimension to the training we're looking at."

The work on the building proceeded quickly and mostly satisfactorily. Each cell had the steel w/c stool and basin; a bidet was added, and next to that a shower with clear glass walls, all along one wall.

On the other wall, a counter with a kitchen sink. CCTV cameras covered every inch of the place; discreetly, of course.

Each cell, once finished, was equipped with a high, metal-framed, narrow bed, with a plastic-covered mattress.

In the central open area, various items of equipment were bolted to the floor. Some were exercise equipment such as may be found in any modern gym. Others ... were not.

Marks were painted on the floor; yellow footprints, yellow spots, one set in front of every cell, and a circle of them in the centre of the parade area. The parade area was otherwise clear, but there were points set flush in the floor where machine screws or other items with the right threads, could be inserted.

In the rest of the building, a well-equipped kitchen was installed which would prepare food for inmates and any staff who needed it. Accommodation suites, incorporating bedroom, bathroom and sitting room/dinette/kitchenette, were completed, and an exercise room and game room were set up. The place was ready, just waiting for occupation.

Finding staff was both easier and harder than might be expected. Easier, because there were many possible candidates; the job looked very attractive at least in most aspects. Harder, because the Chairman and his colleagues were determined that there should be no gratuitous torture. Finding men ... and women ... who were willing to discipline women – upper class women, despite any indentured status – while keeping within very narrow boundaries, was difficult.

Eight men, two women, all from Andrew's platoon, were selected and accepted full-time positions. RSM Reginald Smith was appointed as full-time overseer, with the Major, Andrew and Joshua overlapping so that a senior officer was available at all times. The Major and the RSM would live in and be on call. Andrew and Joshua would only live in when absolutely essential.

Then, there were the legal aspects. Eventually, with judicial advice, what would once have been called a 'Bye Law' was formulated. This would permit the indenture of an adult woman (meaning, over sixteen years of age, with special provisions required for under eighteens) for a specified minimum period. The indenture could be extended for up to an additional year in resistant cases. The indentured person would have the alternative option of voluntary enslavement, a risky option, to be sure. The person responsible for presenting the subject for indenture also had the option of withdrawing her, but would have to pay any costs entailed to the date of withdrawal. The Order specified the limits and requirements involved in the indenture. They were, basically, 'Your only rights are that there will be no permanent damage to your body. You are required to obey without question any order by a member of staff. If you protest, you will still be required to obey. If your protest has merit, that will be noted and the staff member disciplined. If the protest has no merit, you will be punished.'

Other requirements to the Order were a thorough medical and implant contraception.

Following the examination and questioning of the candidate's sexual history, she would be collared. The collar would be coloured to indicate her sexual experience. Virgins would wear white, of course, until deflowered. Women who had had vaginal sex, however infrequently or reluctantly, red; anal experience by yellow and oral by blue. Combinations by the appropriate coloured stripes, and the collar changed as her experience was extended. Once she had been initiated into all three possibilities, she would wear a green collar. Eventually, if she responded to her training and began be fully compliant, the collar would be black, indicating she would usually engage in sex in any way without necessity for restraint. Restraint would be permissible.

The collars would require an electronic key to remove them.

Once the infrastructure was in place and staff training commenced, it was time to light the blue touch-paper* with the prospective 'trainees'.

"Helena; I want to see you and Karen in my office in ten minutes, please."

"Your office, Sylvester? Why on earth your office? What's wrong with the lounge?"

"Because I said so, Helena."

The Chairman's wife was not entirely stupid, and knew when, for whatever reason, her husband was going to have his way. His daughter, however, did not have that much sense and refused to accompany her mother.

"Sylvester, Karen just flatly refused to come."

"Very well. I'll deal with her separately. She won't enjoy that at all."

"But, Sylvester..."

"Be quiet. Do not speak unless I invite you to." His wife opened her mouth again, but saw his expression, which frankly frightened her, and shut it again. "Very good. I have been very unhappy with your attitudes for many years; since our honeymoon, in fact. You are not the only woman in our social circle who has caused problems. You may have heard of the Short-Term Training Indenture?"

"Well, sort of; I don't see what that has to do with me..."

"It has to do with my dissatisfaction with your social and sexual attitudes." He smiled grimly when his wife opened and shut her mouth again without speaking. "I am presenting you with three options. First is that you divorce me on the grounds of irreconcilable differences and return home. I will not be paying any support if you do that. Second, you voluntarily take the collar..." he raised his eyebrows as she opened her mouth again, and again shut it without speaking. "The third option is to sign to admit yourself to the Training Centre on a one-year extendible indenture. Now, you may speak."

"But what have I done? What's wrong?"

He nodded to himself. "Exactly. Actually, it's not really what you've done for the most part, but what you haven't done. I gave up intercourse with you years ago because I was fed up of you laying there like a corpse and not responding or actively participating. You have never contributed anything to the household with the exception of our daughter. You know my attitudes to slavery and servitude, but you treat our servants like trash and slaves like objects, and you teach our daughter to do the same. You have twenty-four hours to consider. And ... Helena ... promising to change, to be the wife you should be, WILL NOT WORK, and is unacceptable." He handed her a wad of papers. "Here's a copy of the Indenture Conditions of Service. Off you go, now, and think well."

He went in search of his daughter.

"What do you want?"

"I want your attention for about ten minutes. If you don't want to give it, you may pack your bags and leave."

"But, Father, you can't do that!"

"Yes. I can. I will. You will be removed physically, if necessary. In which case, you will find yourself in shackles down at the Auction Hall."

The seriousness of the situation began to sink in and she wisely decided against further pouting. "Okay, Daddy, I'm listening," she responded, sweetly, if insincerely.

"I have had a conversation with your mother, who is thinking over the ultimatum I gave her. If she decides to divorce me, you can choose to go with her. Otherwise, your choice is between Voluntary Servitude, Involuntary Servitude, or a Short-Term Training Indenture. Short-term in your case being a minimum of one year. Incidentally, if you choose Voluntary Servitude, your price will go into trust for you, as you will automatically be eligible to buy yourself free at the age of twenty-one. Of course, the four intervening years will have changed your position dramatically." He handed her copies of the same document he'd given his wife. "Read well, think well, decide well."