Chapter Text
Gretchen shifted her wrists as much as the cuffs would allow, and rolled her neck around to the limits of the leash attached to her collar. The leather cuffs around her wrists were attached to a leather belt around her waist; the high-tech collar was the only other thing she was wearing. Here she was, five minutes from being auctioned - how much had her life changed in one short week?
Just a week ago, she’d been living with her father, dating her boyfriend Ferb, and trying to figure out how and when she and Ferb could lose their virginities to each other. And then the horrible car crash that had taken her father’s life had torn her world asunder. With her mother dead giving birth to her, and her father an only child, custody of her - for the three months until she turned eighteen - had gone to her mother’s brother, her Uncle Bill. Bill hadn’t gotten along well with her father, but he was the closest family she had now.
The day after the funeral, Bill had signed an indenture contract for her. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes as the indenture induction crew had restrained her and led her away; all he’d been able to do is look away and mumble about how it was for the best. Two days later, she still didn’t know why he’d done it.
The older woman preparing the newly-indentured for auction came into the room and picked the leash of the young man in front of her off the hook holding him in place. “Come with me, dearie,” she said. Gretchen would be next.
She’d written a research paper on indenture for her social studies class last year. Her research had been correct so far on what the experience was like. She’d been given a medical exam, which had confirmed she still had her hymen while evaluating her overall health. She’d been given an IUD and then sent to a ‘preparation room’ - a cell. A recorded video told her the official version of her new legal status - her collar could not be removed except by court officials, and had a tracking device in it, along with a shocker and various sensors. She had no right to refuse a legal order from her contract-holder that would not permanently harm her. If she refused, her contract-holder could punish her as he or she saw fit. Her contract-holder was required to provide adequate food and shelter. If she chose to do so before her nineteenth birthday, she could renew her contract. Once the renewal was signed, it was under the same terms as adult indenture - five-year renewals at the discretion of the indenture-holder. She would no longer have any choice in the matter.
83% of underage indentures “chose” to sign a re-indenture before their contract expired on their nineteenth birthday. Proponents of indenture claimed that was a sign of how much indentured servants appreciated the security and comfort of indenture; indenture opponents pointed at the same rate and claimed it as evidence of coercion, brainwashing, and flat-out forgery.
Her research was pretty clear on what happened then. Typically, contracts were renewed until the servants were no longer useful (for workers) or attractive (for sex slaves), at which point they were cast out and left to fend for themselves with no useful skills or worldly goods except the pittance paid for each re-indenture. Most ended up homeless, if they couldn’t find family to help them out - but after ten, twenty, or even thirty years, they may not have any means of contacting their family at all.
She had been sufficiently outraged by what she’d found that she’d joined the high school branch of the Indenture Reform Coalition shortly thereafter. After all her research and work for the IRC, she was not amused by the irony that she now found herself naked and about to be auctioned.
She’d probably be bid on as a sex slave, sold to a middle-aged man who wanted to feel young again. If she was lucky, she’d be a present to a teenage boy from his parents. In either case, the virginity she’d been planning to give to Ferb wasn’t going to last the night. Being a virgin would drive up her price, meaning more money for her uncle. The going rate for an attractive teenage virgin was in the range of fifty to eighty thousand dollars; if she'd just slept with Ferb, it would have cut that number in half.
The older woman came back in and unhooked Gretchen’s leash from the wall. “This way, dearie,” she said, gently tugging on the leash; Gretchen had no choice but to follow. “Now, just so you know, there seems to be something up with the bidding computers, so final bids are low today. So don’t take it personally.”
The woman held a scanner up to Gretchen’s collar, and her vital statistics showed up on a screen on the wall: 5 foot 3 inches tall, 133 pounds, 34D bra size, auburn hair, blue eyes, virgin (hymen class 3). Gretchen sighed at all the numbers - each of them likely to drive her price up. Even the hymen class - 3 meant ‘likely to cause painful first intercourse but not impede it’, and some men considered it the most valuable category.
“Okay, you’re a virgin. I think we go for the innocent look for you, then. So no heels and very light makeup. Open wide, dearie,” the woman said, holding up a ball gag. Gretchen sighed and opened her mouth, and the gag was fastened behind her head.
“Turn around,” the woman said, and Gretchen turned to face away from her. Her hands twitched in their cuffs as the woman took a leather strap and wrapped it around her elbows, pulling them together. They couldn’t touch with her wrists still bound to the belt, but the effect made her generously-sized breasts stick out even more. “Oh, they’ll love that,” the woman said. “Turn back, please.” The woman applied a small amount of makeup, just enough to smooth her out a bit.
“Just one little bit left,” she said, and wiped a cold pad over Gretchen’s nipples, making them turn stiff and stick out. “There we go. Now you go out there and get yourself a good contract, okay, dearie?”
The woman led her over to a door on the other side of the room; the door slid open, and a male guide in a tuxedo waited there. He scanned Gretchen’s collar as well, nodded, and accepted the leash from the woman.
He led her down a short hallway; the door at the other end slid aside, and she was on a glass-enclosed stage. She could blurrily see a sweaty, overweight middle-aged man in a suit sitting directly in front of the stage, frantically tapping on a bid controller as the man in the tuxedo started reciting her vital statistics. She tried to look around, but her eyes kept jumping back to the sweaty man. She knew he was trying to bid on her, and the thought of spending the year and a half until she turned nineteen - or even longer, if he could force her to re-indenture - serving him made a chill run down her spine.
The guide made her turn around; her eyes were watering now, and without her glasses, she couldn’t see very well to begin with. She’d been told her glasses would be delivered to her contract-holder; hopefully, he or she would let her have them.
She turned full circle and was facing the sweaty man again; he was shouting at an apologetic-looking man in a vest. The guide said, “And, sold!” and led her out the other door from the stage.
“You did well,” the guide said, “but the bids came in really low. We’re having computer problems, but by law we have to run the auctions anyway. But, on the plus side, whoever indentured you won’t get as much money.” He led her into a room where he checked a readout. “Okay, your contract-holder specifies...no gag,” he said, removing the gag from her mouth. She stretched her jaw and licked her dried-out lips.
“Minimum restraints for handover, and some clothing,” he continued. He unclipped the leash from her collar, removed the strap from her elbows, and unlocked her wrists from the belt, removing the belt entirely. He pulled a long T-shirt from a cabinet and handed it to her; it was thin and white, and barely covered her ass, but it was the most covering she’d had since she’d arrived at the indenture facility two days ago. Once she’d put it on, he took her wrists and clipped the cuffs together behind her back, then reattached the leash to her collar. He dropped a pair of thin sandals on the floor for her to step into.
“Let’s go meet your new contract-holder,” he said, leading her down a short hallway to a waiting room. Her contract-holder was looking at her; she recognized him immediately, even without her glasses.