New Story by Joe Doe: A Judicious Request

[imreadonly2]

A brief story setup, in the form of a letter, from a federal bankruptcy judge to a slaving lawyer she met in Texas. If one-or-more of you wishes to assume the role of the lawyer, and give Judge Katherine a suitably detailed response, she will, of course, write back to you.

Justice Katherine Smith
Federal Judge
District Court of Colorado

Oscar Banes Wand, Partner
Smithers, Bane, and Wand, Attorneys at Law
Houston, Texas

My name is Katherine Smith, and I am a Federal Bankruptcy Judge in the Colorado District. I believe you and I have met twice before. Once, at a reception at the Governor's Mansion in Texas in Austin. The second time was when I spoke on the subject of the recent changes in the bankruptcy law with regards to enslavement of the marriage partners and relatives of the debtor, during a conference last month in Houston.

It is those recent changes that have caused me no small concern, and compel me to request your assistance. When we spoke, you had asked me out, and although I had declined, I was quite sincere when I said I wanted us to be friends. I truly meant that, as I sensed that you were a very nice man in whom I could place my trust, despite the unfortunate reputation that Texas slave lawyers have. Hoping that I'm correct, I am trusting in your discretion in this matter. After you read my concerns, you will understand why.

The fluctuations in commodity prices and bad growing season in Colorado has led to a record number of farm bankruptcies. Under the recent changes in the bankruptcy laws, bankruptcy trustees are empowered to enslave the debtor, their spouse, or any minor children or occupants of said property over the ages of 18.

Because of the roster of approved bankruptcy trustees is entirely male, and because inherent sexism and price premiums for attractive female Pleasure Sluts, the enslavement clause in my district is almost exclusively enforced against attractive females. I recently had a case where a farmer who drank away his profits lost his farm, his wife, and two of his wife's female nieces who had visited him the previous summer. The farmer himself, being "fat, drunk, and not worth much" in the words of trustee, was not enslaved. I wish I could say that it was uncommon, but it is not.

The injustice of this is a matter to discuss on another occasion. My concern is that for unspoken political reasons the trustees are always routing the seized female property to Pablo's Pussy Exports, located in the Port of Freeport in your fair state of Texas.

I can't find out much about Pablo’s, and the ownership is murky, but they seemed to be VERY politically "connected", if you catch my drift. Pablo’s seems to export almost all of their inventory to brokers in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, so to say their business is "opaque" is an understatement. I sense that powerful people are involved, and a great deal of money changes hands, so again, your discretion is appreciated.

As a result of the bankruptcies being in rural areas, the majority of the women who are sent to Pablo's are both unregistered and ungraded. Colorado is a blue state, and grading isn't popular among women in rural areas, as it's uncommon for farmers to actually secure a loan using their beloved female relatives. However, when the bankruptcies occur, the women are 'scooped up' by unscrupulous trustees. They are then stripped naked and stuffed into the back of a truck, and 17 hours later they arrive at Pablo's for "processing", where they effectively disappear.

While girls who are registered and graded seem to be sold for an appropriate amount, girls who are NOT registered are always being listed as "Choice" or "Select", and are supposedly being sold for very modest prices. In fact, I can't find a single case of an unregistered girl being sold for any grade higher than Choice.

Accounting is lax. Apparently, when they load the girls on the truck, they write a lot number on the girl's breast and bottom identifying her, and the only thing I receive back is a listing of these meaningless numbers, supposed grades, and ridiculously low sales prices.

6-1 Sales Record

46 Choice $14,700
21 Select $1,750
18 Select $1,500
21 Choice $18,700
14 Select $2,500
19 Select $3,800
8 Select $4,100
31 Select $4,550
24 Select $8,450
18 Select $3,200
20 Select $1,150
22 Choice $19,000
14 Select $3,500

You'll notice that I am getting a record of the date of sale, not the date of shipment, and several numbers appear multiple times. This means that there were two different shipments that used the same lot number. I have repeatedly asked for names and registration numbers of the inventory sold, which would allow me to tie the girls I see in court back to a sales price. All of my requests have been ignored, and the trustee (a relative of the Governor) rather bluntly told me to "stay in your lane."

My “lane” is making sure that the creditors receive a fair price for the goods sold. A number of the women who have passed through my court are quite attractive, and I feel certain that with a certain minimal amount of training many of them could have been sold as Prime Minus, at the very least. When I have inquired about this, I was told that "girls don't understand slave grading", and that I didn't know what I was talking about.

Grant you, I am far from being an expert in such matters. I myself am neither registered or graded, but I am not a total novice with the "peculiar institution". I do take Slave Yoga with other free women. My trainer, Master Dominus, says I might even be Prime Minus, if I received "serious training, unclothed". So I know a bit about female slavery, albeit from the perspective of a clothed free woman on her knees rather than the grader.

As I was receiving no cooperation from anyone, I actually visited Pablo's in Freeport. My repeated phone requests for a meeting with management were summarily rebuffed. A lot of the initial processing is outdoors, so I was able to get some binoculars and watch from a nearby hill, by peering over the barking dogs and barb wired fences. I recognized several girls from my court as they were unloaded after their very long truck drive. Blinded by the light, they were made to run back and forth, then relieve themselves over an outdoor trough. Then they were hosed down, and half drown in a dip tank designed to delouse them, before being taken out for jumping jacks, squats, and rigorous calisthenics.

During all of this, several smiling men with clipboards were taking notes on each girl, and chatting among themselves, comparing notes. When the lengthy exercise period finally ended, the girls were bent over and "felt up" by the men whom I supposed were grading them. They were quickly given registration tattoo, and photographed. Lastly, they were given a small hallmark brand between their butt cheeks, marking them as the property of Pablo’s.

I must confess I found the entire process both astonishing and fascinating. Less than 24 hours before, these women had entered my courtroom as free women. They were the sort of women you might pass in a shopping mall or on the street, with barely a second glance. Now they were running about naked, bending and spreading and rubbing themselves in the most shameful ways, as the men cracked whips and slapped their bottoms and ordered them about. Indeed, it after a few minutes, it was hard to think of them as free women at all, only as Pleasure Sluts. Is the introduction to slavery always so swift, rude, and mercilessly absolute?

I must confess, I couldn’t take my eyes off the brandings. The branding racks were facing both toward me and away from me, which allowed me to zoom in on both faces and bottoms. It was a small brand, only about ½ inch high, an elaborate cursive “P”, which I found to be most lovely and elegant.



Beautiful, isn't it?

The brands were small, and invisible except when the girls bent over. Nonetheless the silly girls made the most absurdly comical faces when they bit down on the rubber bits between their teeth as the brand was pressed down. A lot of them soiled themselves and a few passed out. What silly, daffy creatures, slave girls are!

I suppose it must hurt, although I understand from reading Professor Sarah Hollister that sIave girls don’t experience pain the same way as free women. I’d like to think that if I were ever to receive such a lovely and distinctive hallmark, I would accept it with a bit of dignity, although I suppose you can’t know for sure without experiencing it, and so I will never know.

I was enjoying the site of a coed nearly biting through her gag when two thuggish security guards grabbed me by the arms. Despite my protests, I was frog marched past snarling dogs, electric fences, and numerous check points into the building I had been attempting to access for months.

The manager on duty was Zeke Boogles. Mr. Boogles told me I was trespassing. I told him that was bullshit, as I was standing in the parking lot of a city park when his goons grabbed me.

I suggested that the real crime was kidnapping and assault. He responded by rather rudely checking my inner lip. Seeing that I was unregistered, Mr. Boogles asked why he shouldn't just "strip ya' buck naked, train ya', and sell ya', with the rest of the slave pussy yer' so interested in."

Needless to say, I was shocked, as this sort of rough frontier justice isn't the sort of thing one encounters in a federal courtroom. Appalled, I stared at him, mouth agape, for nearly a full minute, imagining myself out in the courtyard, stripped naked, with the crack of the whip propelling me to run across the field, to squat, and pee, and jump in the dip tank, and exercise naked while the smiling men took notes, measuring my "worth."

It isn't as preposterous as it might seem, given the excessive laxity of the accounting process. We actually had an error where a girl was not properly entered into our court records, and as a result they had an "extra" girl on the truck. As they simply take a head count at the courthouse when Pablo’s loads their truck, and keep no track of the unregistered girls as individuals, she was summarily shipped, processed, and sold, without my clerk having any record of it. It was a reconciliation nightmare, but when I complained, they pointed out that "the problem, and the complaint, is entirely on your side, not ours."

I was standing there, wondering what sort of grade I might get, pondering if I might actually make Prime, when he ordered one of the thugs outside of his office to "get this little bunny skinned, and outside with her sisters." It wasn't until the goon grabbed me by the arm that I woke up, and screamed that I was a federal judge, and that the FBI knew I was there (lie) and that they knew I was there, since I was on official business (another lie).

I told him that I wanted to see an auction, thinking that might allow me to see if all the unregistered girls were being sold at absurdly low grades, and low prices. He said that auctions were "invitation only" and that 99% of the girls were sold overseas (which, while true, is one of the reasons the girls were impossible to trace). I asked him what he was trying to hide, and he replied "nuttin'", and listed several prestigious people who attend the invitation only events, including yourself.

Which leads me to the purpose of this letter. I need your help.

I feel quite certain that the girls being seized by my court are being sold for higher prices and better grades, but as I have no way of attending an auction, I have no way of knowing for sure. You, however, can attend an auction, and if you can verify that some of the girls who are passing through my court are in fact being sold for a higher price, that might be enough to get me evidence for a warrant in a federal court.

I attempted to find the registration numbers Pablo’s had created, but could not. I attempted to find the girls by searching through the national registry, but it was like trying to guess social security numbers. In truth, I'm not even sure if they are being registered here, or overseas.

The problem, as I see it, is that without buying the girl, you are relying on matching a face you've seen in once in a photo with an unregistered Pleasure Slut you see on the block. Pablo’s could always claim you saw a look-a-like, as we don't know how long they keep any of the unregistered girls in training before they sell them, which makes it devilishly hard to match inputs and outputs.

Unfortunately, I think the confusion over who these girls are is a feature, not a bug. Even if you buy the girl, it's illegal in Texas courts for Pleasure Sluts to testify in court against free people. Despite the lax accounting, it's not like you'd sell a free girl off the auction block, and the word or a "debtor farm girl slave" is easily dismissed. It's really a Catch-22.

I have sent repeated requests to attend an auction, which have been summarily ignored. I may never be able to get inside of Pablo's again, at least not through the front door, which is why I'm asking you for your help to find out what's going on inside. I've been told that the unregistered girls are all being graded as Choice and Select. I could verify this quickly if I could get inside their operation, but I'm afraid the office is as close as I'll ever get.

How frustrating it was, sitting in the manager's office, knowing the answer to all of my questions were on the other side of the cinderblock, with all the naked slave girls. Oh, to be on the other side of that wall!

One idea I had is for you to arrange some sort for a backstage pass, if such a thing exists, or wrangle me an invitation to an auction. I feel certain that if I could get inside their operations, all my questions would be answered. The irony is that the naked women are exercised outside and treated in the most humiliating ways imaginable, for one-and-all to see, with only the exchange of money being hidden.

I have not told anyone else about my investigation, and I trust you to do the same. Whatever we do, it must be done quietly, as I feel that we may well be involved in uncovering a very large conspiracy involving some very rich, and very powerful people.

I think one of the reasons the trustees are so anxious to enslave these women is the enormous price spread between the low prices the creditors are receiving versus the high prices the girls are getting when they are being sold off the block. If you sell a dozen Prime Pleasure slut for $130,000, at a cost of $20,000, you can clear more than a million dollars IN A SINGLE DAY. This enormous stream of dirty money is funding the bribes to the trustees and state officials overseeing the system, and perverting the entire system of justice.

I called Judge Rufus Parker, expecting me might help me as a professional courtesy. He said that I should "mind my beeswax", and said that if he caught me "snooping" again, he'd pull down my pants, and "paddle my cute little buns." What a vivid mental image that creates. Can you imagine?

I feel terrible for the women, as I know they are being enslaved and rushed through Pedro's as part of this fraud. I'm constantly waking up at night, soaking wet, after dreaming that I'm naked in the compound, running, jumping, and spreading myself for the graders. I run through the entire process, from having my ass slapped as I jump off the truck, to pleasuring myself in front of the graders, right up until to the brand burning me between the cheeks. I wake up screaming, soaking wet everywhere, more tired than when I went to bed.

I've exhausted every avenue, and so I must call upon our new found friendship.

Help me, O. B. Wan. You are my last hope.

Katherine

[jeepster]

Really hope 1 of the writers take up the role of the lawyer! This could be the start of something good!

[Johnny Lawrence]

Oscar Banes Wand
Smithers, Bane, and Wand
Houston, Texas


Justice Katherine Smith
District Court of Colorado


Justice Smith, it is a pleasure to hear from you again. I fondly recall our meeting at the Governor's mansion. I would like to offer my apologies for asking you out, but you had had quite a bit to drink at the reception, and I'm afraid I mistook your interest in my work as interest in me. No offense was taken, however, as I've found it's quite common for women, particularly powerful and educated ones, to be absolutely fascinated with the subject of slave law.

Generally women of the lower classes steer clear of me. If I were to mention to a waitress or a cashier what kind of law I practice, normally they would get a look of fear in their eyes, grow pale, and conclude their business with me as fast as possible. To be candid, nothing gets your food delivered faster than mentioning within earshot of the waitress that you won an enslavement hearing that morning and are looking forward to receiving the contingency fee.

But for whatever reason, intelligent and successful women don't seem to have the same level of fear. Perhaps it's because some of the most common causes of enslavement, criminal conviction and indebtedness, so rarely apply to them. Certainly it's true that historically the great majority of enslavements affected high school or college dropouts, girls in their late teens through mid-twenties. But that was more true 20 years ago than it is now. Truthfully the percentages aren't as skewed as you might imagine. I'd say fully fifty percent of my practice involves women in the upper-middle class range or above, many in their thirties and forties. Now my practice isn't representative of the entire system, but still...


I'm sorry, I do tend to go off on tangents. As I said, I remember our meeting at the reception. I couldn't forget the way you kept leaning into me and touching me on the arm when I talked about our firm's legal proceedings against the Dallas Women's Business Association and their very rigged 'Top 40 Under 40' list. I had a hard time focusing thanks to the flush of your skin and the intoxicating smell of your perfume (at least I assume that was perfume). By the way, I think you'll be happy to learn that we were successful in our case. Next year the DWBA will not only have to find new committee members, they'll need to select an all-new 'Top 40 Under 40'. The women on the list this year are going to be otherwise occupied for some time.

I also recall your speech at the continuing education conference in Houston. I enjoyed it, but honestly I would have preferred more of a condensed case law update. Most of your ninety minute presentation seemed to just be stories of the various bankruptcy enslavements you've presided over in the last year. Truthfully it was quite riveting (I couldn't leave my seat during your presentation, nor for several minutes after), but I brought several young associate attorneys to the conference and I don't know if those boys learned a damn thing. Still, it's a pleasure seeing a judge who enjoys her work, particularly a woman.

In Texas most of the judges at the slave court are men. And I can't say I've ever seen a group more excited to come to work. One particular old coot (the ironically named Judge Horace Younger) has to be about 87 years old, just up and refuses to retire. I asked him once if there was anything he *didn't* like about the job, and he said "just the damn weekends". But it's great to see that our more open-minded neighbors in the Rocky Mountains show the same level of enthusiasm, particularly on the federal bench.


Sorry about getting off track again there. As far as the subject of your letter, I'm not familiar with Pablo's Pussy Exports. That isn't surprising. There are a lot of fly-by-night companies that spring up in this business. Somebody can make quite a bit of money selling questionably-obtained slave pussy.

I recall one particular example from a few years ago. Somebody sent a fraudulent email to the members of Alpha Phi sorority at UT-Austin, claiming to be from their national organization. The letter said there was an error in their membership forms, and every girl there would need to fill out some renewal paperwork and email it back. Fully half the girls in that house typed in their personal info, signed it, and sent it back without even reading it. It was only when one of the smarter freshman girls actually read the email that she stopped the others. Unfortunately it was too late for a lot of them. About 60 girls, including the President and Vice President of the sorority, had just signed indefinite voluntary enslavement papers. Nobody ever figured out who sent the email (they were good at hiding their electronic tracks), but the girls were rounded up over the next few days by some guys in unmarked white vans and shipped to some makeshift auction house near the Mexican border. Those places spring up sometimes, almost like a traveling carnival. They can set it up and then break it down in just a couple of hours.

Anyway, the national sorority hired our to make sure everything stayed quiet. Their reputation would be seriously hurt if word got out that their girls were dumb enough to get caught in such a simple scheme. They'd have a tough time with rush the next few years, and they were already going to have trouble with membership numbers. After a thorough investigation we realized that not all the girls who were grabbed had signed the paperwork. In fact, one of the girls missing was the bright young freshman who had spotted the fake email in the first place. We did manage to keep it quiet though, the story never got in the papers, and those enslavement records have been sealed.

So no, it wouldn't surprise me if the registrations on some of your pleasure sluts aren't matching up. A lot of these places aren't as thorough at documentation as a higher class establishment like the Big D. I got a look at the paperwork for the Alpha Phi group, and it was woefully incomplete. They had a big group photo of the whole slave lot, all of them butt naked standing in a cattle corral, hands tied behind their backs. They had 58 signed forms, but I counted at least 74 in the picture (which raises more questions as only 65 members of the sorority went missing). Then they had pictures of the girls in batches of 7 or 8, all naked with their heads shaved, ring gags in their mouths, standing side by side. They had thick makeup all over their faces as well, making it impossible to identify if the girls really matched the list of names. Sometimes the number of girls in the photo didn't even match the number of names printed beside it. They had more photos of the girls in the same batches, in different positions. One had them all bent over a thick wooden railing, asses facing the camera, butt cheeks spread wide. Another had them sitting on the same railing, legs held up in the air with ropes, wet gaping pussies there for all to see.

For a while I thought I recognized one of those girls in the photos, despite the shaved heads and makeup. We'd almost hired a young woman who had just graduated from UT Law near the top of her class. Her first interview was a week before the Alpha Phi situation developed. She lived over near that sorority house, and in her interview had mentioned that she liked to jog in the evenings. She was a short one, only about 5 feet tall, but was exceptionally endowed up top. Just enormous. Well, we had a second interview scheduled with her a few days later, but she never showed up. But one of the girls in that group photo was short, maybe 5 feet tall. And she had the biggest and nicest pair of slave tits you could ask for. Even with the shaved head, and the whorish overly-done makeup, and the ring gag holding her mouth open, I thought I saw a resemblance. Despite what you might have heard about Texas, we didn't see her pussy or asshole during her job interview. I closely inspected that set of photos though, in hopes of finding a clue. The woman in the photo had tears in her eyes, but I don't know that I've ever seen a redder, wetter pussy. Sometimes I wonder if women who take jobs in slave law are just aching to be collared and sold.

Ah well. As I said I go off on tangents. I'm sure I'm imagining the similar appearance, and she just took a job somewhere else. I highly doubt an educated woman with a promising legal career could get rounded up by a group of redneck slave handlers and sold to a Central American whorehouse. She's probably working at a prestigious firm in Dallas, making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and *not* sucking a hundred dicks a day for 10 pesos apiece.


You're a very lucky woman, judge. Visiting a place like this Pablo's can be risky, even for a woman with money and power. It can be especially risky when you're alone and no one knows you're there. If this Pablo's is the type of place you say it is, and the "Mr Boogles" you encountered had had a little more spine, he could have had you mixed in with the coeds you saw inside the hour. You would have been stripped naked, bent over, branded, and sold, just like every woman who has passed through your courtroom in the last year or so. It would be a true tragedy if a Federal judge, particularly one so young and beautiful as yourself, were to be enslaved and shipped off to Africa or some other hell-hole. At least if you were illegally enslaved and sold here in the United States, you might be able to convince someone of your wrongful conversion to a slave cunt, and perhaps be freed. Eventually. There have been some rare cases where paperwork and processing errors led careless employees/wandering visitors who went to the wrong section of the Big D to be temporarily enslaved. These are usually corrected within a few weeks or months, with the women released no worse for wear (though generally they are hit with some fairly hefty fines for wasting the court's time, and often required to perform quite a few hours of community service at the local sheriff's roadside clubs if they are found to have contributed to their own enslavement through negligence).

But somewhere overseas, where you don't even speak the language? I think your education, your connections, and your knowledge of the system would all be completely wasted. You wouldn't be able to tell anyone that you were a judge if you were sold as a white slave in a Libyan tent city. Not that they would care even if they could understand you.


I'm not surprised this "Mr Boogles" mentioned my name. I am very well known in the state of Texas, and just as you falsely claimed to be working with the FBI to scare him, I'm sure he dropped my name as a way of tricking you into thinking his operation had some sort of legitimacy. But again I can assure you I have never heard of Pablo's Pussy Exports.

I will need to do some research. It's a good thing you came to me. I think your decision to keep this quiet is very wise. A lot of powerful people could be involved in this. We need to be careful.

Your idea of getting a backstage pass seems to have merit. Surely they will be on the lookout for you though, since you've already been there once and told them your real name. We may need to alter your appearance and get you some alternate identification to get you in. Do you have some time off accrued that you could take? Artificial skin coloration and a new hair style might be needed to get you inside, and I doubt you want to return to the bench looking like a different person.

I will begin my own investigation, asking around and seeing what I can find out. In the meantime, see if you can arrange for some time away from the court.

P.S. You mentioned you feel terrible for the women. Don't feel bad for them. Every single one of them was lawfully enslaved, many of them in your own courtroom. You haven't stopped that, have you? No, you should continue to do your duty and collar every little slut who can't pay her debts. That is justice. If you must feel bad for someone, pity the poor creditors who aren't receiving fair market value for high quality slave pussy.


--Oscar

[dtrelsky]

I like the mention of community service! I feel like a lot more fines and misdemeanors would be replaced with some "community service" though I imagine there would be many who would rather take on more hours of service in exchange for some choice of where they offered their service. Maybe in the next county over in exchange for a fifty percent increase in hours, the farther and more anonymous they are leading to their time quickly multiplying. Those with the means to not worry about work and every worry about their reputation though might end up serving ten times the usual amount so they can give service at a gloryhole in upstate New York instead of in the city where they would surely be recognized and embarassed in front of their peers amongs the city's social elite.
The two letters so far are setting things up nicely! As with the two other new stories I'll defintely be watching for the next update!

[jeepster]

Can't wait to see how Katherine changes her appearance! Skin tone and hair ? She would be unrecognizable!

[Johnny Lawrence]

I like the mention of community service! I feel like a lot more fines and misdemeanors would be replaced with some "community service" though I imagine there would be many who would rather take on more hours of service in exchange for some choice of where they offered their service. Maybe in the next county over in exchange for a fifty percent increase in hours, the farther and more anonymous they are leading to their time quickly multiplying. Those with the means to not worry about work and every worry about their reputation though might end up serving ten times the usual amount so they can give service at a gloryhole in upstate New York instead of in the city where they would surely be recognized and embarassed in front of their peers amongs the city's social elite.

Yeah, I was thinking of those hikers who go missing, or people in a boat where they have to send out a search party. If the person acted against whatever regulation was in place, sometimes they can be held responsible for the costs involved in saving them. The same sort of thing could apply here. Many of the women in these stories tempt fate, playing along and almost daring someone to enslave them. In my mind, even if they're eventually freed, there should be some sort of repayment.

And I love the idea of increasing your hours of service in exchange for letting you perform them somewhere else. A "respectable" lady in the city might decide it's better to do a whole lot more hours of work, as long as it's on the other side of the state. And likewise, a country girl might choose to perform her work in the big city, where nobody knows her, as opposed to doing it in her own small town. 80 hours of community service where people know you, or 200 where you can remain pleasantly anonymous.

Of course, they hear 80 hours and they think "two weeks". But you've gotta read the fine print. With a lot of these places, any time you're not on stage or on your back doesn't count. Some lawyer girl starts working 40 hours a week at Cletus' Truck Stop and Strip Joint, mostly being a waitress, but also dancing bare-ass naked three times a night for ten minutes each. Rather than drive three hours each way every day, she agrees to stay in a crappy little trailer park behind the truck stop (also owned by Sheriff Cletus) until her service is 100% complete (handing over her car keys upon check-in). At the end of 5 weeks she thinks her community service is up, only to be told that she only got 30 minutes of credit each night. In those 5 weeks she completed 12.5 hours of her required 200. They'd put her on stage more, but they've got a lot of women competing for stage time every night.

She can either settle in for the additional 75 or so weeks it'll take to finish her community service, or she can take on "other duties" to speed it up. Sheriff Cletus gives 10 minutes of credit for each satisfied customer, whether they take that long to finish or not. And she can do that from the comfort of her own little trailer out back. She just needs to out-compete all the other women back there. Oh, and the hours as a waitress? Pays for her meals and her stay in the trailer.

[lovethissite]

Besides Katherine's skin tone change it may also be good to read about her head being shaved either before or after she enters the auction area and joins other soon to be sold slaves. That would be a great start to her humiliation. Her head would match the rest of denuded body.

[Citizen1069]

Oscar Banes Wand
Smithers, Bane, and Wand
Houston, Texas


Justice Katherine Smith
District Court of Colorado

Oscar has asked our legal department for any additional information we can give you.

There have been many lawsuits' overestimates on real property. In California there is a claim that a person's color effects the appraisal price of homes, and in N.Y. Is another lawsuit against a large organization who was allegedly changing the worth depending on if it was for taxes or insurance.

If you need to find out how much something will sell for, an appraisal will not be the best way to find out, only by selling it on the open market will you truly find the real market price.

Selling something in only one market will not tell you if you are getting a fair market price. You will need to compare sales in different markets to tell if you are truly getting a fair market price. But only if the items are the same will you know if the sales price is in fact true.

In order to carry out this experiment you will need a “control”. You will need to sell a slave on the open market, not an appraisal but a sale, to set a benchmark for how much that slave is worth. Next you will need to sell a slave that is exactly the same, like a sibling or a twin or a doppelgänger, in the market you want to compare it to. You may need to have more than one sold to increase the accuracy of the other markets pricing.

The number of slaves you will need to make this work, and the extra cost of getting them to be identical, will be more than someone on your salary can afford. Your only option is to get some volunteers to help you out that look just like sisters (or ones that are). Getting them back after they are sold might be a problem (or not) because of the high cost of buying them back (if their owners will even sell them to you). You could do a “Any Chance Auction” for the open market, but I don't believe Pablo's has that option, so any sales there will have to be final for all of them unless you can find some other escape plan for all of your test subjects.

We will answer any further questions at our normal fee, should you have them.
Oscar Banes Wand
Legal Dept.