What Remains of Rebecca Palmer Chapter Eleven

 

Chapter Eleven: Surveillance State

 

The days turned into weeks and those turned into a whole month. 

 

I became… acclimatised. 

 

For most of the day I’d been reviewing the routine surveillance files on my primary assignment - Dr. Eleanor Vale - that sat waiting for me each morning like an early Christmas present begging to be unwrapped. It was like a regular window into her life, and a window to the world outside of Chastity Reach, off the coast of Scotland. I was becoming fascinated with Dr. Vale’s daily life. 

 

I drank my body weight in coffee as I flicked between the reports, audio files, location flags, and transcript downloads that filled out the Eleanor Vale file each day. I nibbled my lower lip and glanced around the wide office, seeing all the other women like me, similarly dressed, gazing at their own terminals, listening to audio files through their earpieces. No one spoke to one another except in passing by the coffee machine, and even then we were aware we could be overheard. My fingers fluttered over the keyboard. Files sprang open for me. 

 

DEVICE HARVEST — SUMMARY (PREVIOUS 24 HOURS)

 

Email Traffic: 42 inbound, 17 outbound. Notable correspondents: two university colleagues, one literary editor, one unknown encrypted address (flagged for investigation).

 

Content themes: lecture revision, book proof corrections, interview scheduling.

 

I always opened the encrypted exchanges first. They were always the most intriguing. This time the message exchange was short and ambiguous:

 

“They’re escalating their tone. Be careful with phrasing this week.”

 

Vale’s reply simply read, “I’m aware. I won’t give them theatre.”

 

I flagged the exchange for narrative reframing: Secretive communications/paranoia indicators, that sort of thing. I was actually getting good at this. The Steel Worlds would be proud of me. 

 

Eleanor Vale’s search history followed the usual daily patterns: 

 

“media framing bias metrics”

“youth political sentiment polling UK”

“historical cycles of ideological consolidation”

And, to my amusement, “The Great British Bake-off’

 

Nothing inflammatory. Nothing reckless. Nothing out of step with what we normally saw. 

 

A secondary pane showed voice assistant transcripts from Eleanor Vale’s kitchen device.

 

“Add coriander to shopping list.”

“Set reminder: call Mum.”

“Play Bach cello suites.”

“Reminder: take cat to the vet.”

 

Of course she had a cat. Of course she did. The cat’s name was Oz. it was all just background noise, but patterns can throw up interesting points of relevance over time. it all ticks away in the background. 

 

I brought up the location trace software, and a map of central London pulsed softly with Eleanor Vale’s movements yesterday:

 

Exercise at a gym

Morning lecture at King's College London.

Afternoon meeting at a Bloomsbury café. (a repeat visit so I flagged it for installation of a listening device)

Evening recording at BBC Broadcasting House.

 

Two agents had shadowed her between engagements. Their reports were clipped and very procedural.

 

Agent L-17: Subject exited Strand entrance 12:14. Engaged in conversation with three students (female, approx. 20–22). Tone calm. Laughter observed. Purchased coffee independently. No security detail.

 

Agent M-4:  Café meeting — subject met male, mid-50s, academic appearance. Body language open and friendly. No sexual tension evident on the part of the subject (but perhaps some from the man). Conversation fragments overheard: “institutional drift,” “public fatigue,” “not sustainable long term.”

 

I enlarged the café still and saw an image of Vale leaning forward, hands around a cup, listening more than speaking. I studied her eyes, her hair, the way her fingers wrapped themselves around her cup. Subconsciously, I held my own cup the same way in imitation of her. 

 

Eleanor Vale was not a firebrand, and not a demagogue. She was a thinker, an intellectual. And she was a potential threat to us.

 

There was another note from M-4: “Subject declined invitation to private panel discussion, citing ‘overexposure fatigue.’ Appears aware of narrative pressure.”

I leaned back slightly in my chair. Dr. Vale was not careless. She anticipated traps and ambushes. Interesting. I smiled to myself.  

 

And then I opened the SOCIAL GRAPH DRIFT pane, and almost immediately Network analysis spidered outward from Vale’s accounts — academics, journalists, small clusters of activists. No explosive growth, just slow, steady engagement. it was all influence by credibility, not virality, and ultimately harder to discredit without fabrication. Not that the Steel Worlds weren’t capable of fabrication, should it come to that. In fact they were very good at it. Very, VERY good at it. My eyes drifted to the live surveillance window — a low-resolution street camera outside Vale’s townhouse in North London. Morning light. Delivery van passing. Curtains drawn. Her curtains were always drawn on the street side. Do you suspect you’re being watched, Dr. Vale?

 

Electronic Level 3 meant everything Vale touched electronically flowed through Chastity Reach.

 

Foot Level 2 meant someone stood ten metres behind her on pavements, pretending to check their phone.

 

Yes, we’re watching you, Dr. Eleanor Vale. We know everything about you. And when the time is right… I rubbed my eyes, feeling tired from staring so long at a computer screen. I glanced again at the bar code that was laser burned onto my left wrist. I would always be tagged by that barcode. Everything anyone might ever want to know about me would be available from that brand. 

 

My father once told me that only slaves were ever branded.

 

I thought back to the slave, Mira, kneeling in Chessington Grange. She had worn a kef brand on her left thigh. She had also worn a steel collar around her throat, of course, for she was kajira. I touched my own throat to remind myself that I didn’t wear a collar of any kind – to remind myself that I was a Free Woman. And yet, I recall once overhearing a conversation between my father and two of his friends from the Inner Party. I was lurking behind the door and I overheard them discussing my sex. One of them said, “the so-called Independent Free Woman is a blight on Gorean Society. She lacks the checks on her behaviour normally imparted by either family or Free Companion, and revels in every opportunity to manipulate men, disrupt public entertainments and business, and generally make a nuisance of herself. Freed from the discipline of either father or brother in the family, and after the end of her First or Second Companionship, she is free to roam and meddle to her heart’s content. And being bored, that is what she does. It should be noted that Companioned Free Women whose Companions are away either on a journey or for war also exhibit these traits.”

 

My father had refrained from objecting to that statement. I had gone up to my room, feeling furious with him. 

 

Agent L-17 had initiated a brief contact posing as a postgraduate researcher in the gym that morning. “I told her I was confused about where New Feminism ends and governance begins,” the agent wrote. “She said, ‘That confusion is understandable. It’s increasingly difficult to separate the two.’”

 

I typed a quick file note: Emphasize: Vale claims ideological and governmental merger. Suggest conspiracy thinking and paranoia on her part. There were some photos attached of Eleanor exercising in her gym – her usual morning routine before settling down to work. She was in her mid-forties but worked hard to keep her body in shape. Good for her. One of the photos from the security cameras in the gym showed her in conversation with a younger woman, possibly in her mid-twenties. I wondered whether that woman might perhaps be Agent L-17? I zoomed in on the figure of the young woman, highlighted her and put her image into my search programme. The file came back as ‘restricted’. 

 

I smiled to myself. You’re Agent L-17, then. Hello. Sometimes the security protocols made it blatantly obvious. I tapped into ALL the security cameras in the area and simply ran a programme to search through the footage until Agent L-17 left the gym. This had nothing to do with my assignment, but I just wanted to see where she lived. I wanted to see who she was. She was very pretty. 

I followed her camera by camera until she returned home. I froze the street image as she produced a set of keys and unlocked the front door of a town house in Camden. The residential details for that town house weren’t restricted, and I was able to find her name: Isabelle Rochester, age 25. Her tax records included a workplace address, and that workplace address came up in a dropdown list as an Operational House in London referred to in Chastity Reach as S-3.

 

S-3 was listed as one of our Security units. So, Isabelle Rochester, age 25, worked for our S-3 unit, and… my fingers fluttered over the keys again… oh, yes, S-3 was tasked with general surveillance, as was S-6 and S-7. Units S-2, S-4 and S-5, on the other hand, were all designated as ‘Acquisitions’. I had no idea what S-1 was. 

 

I tapped on ‘Acquisitions’ in S-2 and saw files on the next scheduled ‘consignment’. Five women – all beautiful and flagged with submissive tendencies. One had already been ‘acquired. The other four were still living their lives, oblivious of what would happen to them in the next five days. I clicked on one: Ms. Jacqueline Squire, age 24, who worked as a Media Consultant. There was an impressive list of subtle tests run on her over the past month. She scored highly on her potential for slavery. Her score read as an 8.9 average across numerous metrics. Scheduled pick up was set for 03.30 in two days’ time. 

 

My eyes were drawn to a sub-menu marked ‘Collar Assessment’.

 

I leaned back in my chair and pursed my lips. How about I…

 

I was enjoying this. I took one of the photos of the pretty Miss Isabelle Rochester, aka Agent L-17, as she walked down the street in the upmarket part of Camden, and dropped it into the ‘Collar Assessment’ box. The programme was routinely used to assess women for suitability for the collar. Let’s see, just for fun, what it made of Agent L-17. 

 

Oh – it was asking me to assign a name to the ‘target’.

 

I typed ‘Isabelle_R’ and created the file. I was give back an Acquisition reference code: IR-397323. Immediately the assessment of the photo sprang to life. 

 

Suitability for Enslavement:

 

Subject Observation: Female subject observed traversing an urban thoroughfare on Earth, displaying pronounced self-assurance in gait and carriage. Such bearing is characteristic of free women in barbarian societies who remain unaware of their latent value as slave material. Evaluation proceeds as though the subject were already presented for sale in a major Gorean market (e.g., Ar or Port Kar).

 

Facial Features: Oval face structure with prominent high cheekbones, conveying refined femininity once faux-dominant attitudes are subdued. Full lips, naturally expressive. Dark, luminous eyes framed by long lashes - excellent potential for conveying emotion during training and eventual submission. Complexion smooth, olive-toned, unblemished; light cosmetic application enhances rather than conceals natural attributes (cosmetics would be removed upon acquisition). Facial aesthetics suitable for high-status ownership or specialized regional markets (e.g., Tahari). Rating: 8/10

 

Hair: Abundant, naturally wavy brown hair extending to mid-back, thick, lustrous, and responsive to light. Exceptional quality - ideal for a variety of handling, display, and grooming protocols customary on Gor (oiling, braiding with decorative elements, or leaving unbound for aesthetic effect during performance). Undyed and undamaged; represents a premium natural asset frequently observed among Earth females of this demographic. Rating: 9/10.

 

Physique and Proportions: Slender yet distinctly feminine build; estimated height 5'8"–5'9". Long, well-toned legs accentuated by current footwear and garment. Hips rounded, waist markedly narrow, producing the classic slave-hourglass silhouette. Breasts full and elevated (approximate C-cup equivalent), suitable for both aesthetic display and disciplinary application. Limbs gracefully proportioned, musculature sufficient to withstand standard training regimens without premature failure. Current stride exhibits confidence bordering on defiance; this will be retrained into the measured, submissive gait required of a kajira. Rating: 8/10.

 

Attire and Bearing: Garments reflect typical Earth free-female modesty with selective exposure: long-sleeved upper garment with teasing neckline, asymmetric plaid skirt permitting leg movement, and high ankle boots of practical design. The ensemble, while concealing, subtly outlines the body’s marketable attributes. Posture is erect, shoulders squared, head carried high—indicative of a free woman accustomed to autonomy and social parity. This haughty demeanour constitutes the most valuable trainable quality: subjects exhibiting strong initial resistance frequently develop into the most ardent and pleasing slaves once conditioning is complete. Rating: 7/10.

 

Overall Assessment & Projected Value: The subject presents as a high-calibre acquisition candidate. Physical beauty is exotic by Gorean standards (distinctive Earth features, exceptional hair, elongated limbs), promising strong bidding interest across multiple markets. Physique offers balanced feminine curves appropriate for pleasure use, domestic service, or specialized training (e.g., dance). The pronounced free-woman arrogance, while currently an obstacle, represents a highly desirable trait for owners who derive satisfaction from breaking and reshaping such spirit into absolute submission.

 

Minor risk of initial cultural resistance exists, as is standard with Earth-sourced stock; this typically enhances rather than diminishes long-term value. Projected unbranded market value upon arrival on Gor: 15–25 silver tarsks in a major city such as Ar, potentially higher following professional training and certification in dance silks or other performance arts.

 

Recommendation: Proceed with acquisition. Subject is well-suited for the collar.

 

Well, I thought to myself, the system thinks you’re potential collar material, Ms. Isabelle Rochester. Isn’t that interesting? I looked at the photo again and began to see what the software saw. I suppose those were slave curves. And she did have really lovely hair. I was actually a little jealous of her. My attention was drawn back to the programme when a small box began to blink, asking me: Training Protocols? Y/N.

 

I clicked on ‘yes’, just to see what it was offering. Oh my. A training schedule was spontaneously created on the assumption that Ms. Isabelle Rochester was to be ‘acquired’. 

 

Training Protocols (Standard Sequence for High-Value Earth Acquisition) for Isabelle_R (IR-397323):

 

Initial Breaking (Days 1–7):

 

Immediate stripping, bathing, and depilation of all body hair below the neck.

Branding with the common Kajira mark (usually on left thigh) under light restraint to establish permanence of status.

Collar fitted and locked; iron slave bracelets and anklets applied.

Continuous naked confinement in a small pen or cage; food and water provided on floor only (no utensils).

Verbal commands introduced: “kneel,” “crawl,” “present,” reinforced by switch or leather quirt for noncompliance.

 

Posture and Movement Discipline (Days 8–21):

 

Retraining of gait: from free-woman stride to the short, swaying, hip-rolling slave walk with small, delicate steps and arms held slightly away from body.

Mandatory display positions drilled daily (e.g., Nadu, Bara, Lesha, Sula, Heel, Tower Slave) until held perfectly for one ehn without correction.

Head and eye training: lowered gaze in presence of free persons; eyes permitted to rise only on explicit command.

Punishment for erect posture or rapid movement: binding in stress positions or application of the five-strap slave lash.

 

Obedience and Verbal Conditioning (Days 22–45):

 

Repetitive speech drills: third-person self-reference (“this girl,” “the slave”), mandatory honorifics (“Master,” “my Master”), prohibition of contractions and free-woman diction.

Pleasure-response training: forced arousal and orgasm (“slave heat” conditioning) using manual, oral, and penetrative techniques until reflexive submission is achieved.

“Begging lessons”: scripted pleas for use, food, mercy, or punishment; graded on sincerity, desperation, and erotic inflection.

 

Service Skills (Days 46–90):

 

Domestic training: serving paga, preparing and presenting food, bathing a master, laundering and folding slave silk.

Sexual servitude: mastery of oral, vaginal, and anal positions; endurance training for prolonged use.

Dance instruction (if aptitude shown): basic movements of the chain dance, tile dance, or veils; evaluated for sensuality and grace.

 

Advanced Refinement & Certification (Day 91+):

 

Final conditioning in full slave silk or camisk; public display and performance drills in supervised environments.

Assessment by professional slaver or tavern master for certification of quality.

Optional specialization: tower slave etiquette, tavern service, pleasure garden protocols, or Tahari silk-and-bell training.

Sale preparation: oiled hair, perfumed skin, light chain jewellery accentuating curves.

 

I took a deep breath. It was so thorough! This was a rarely seen window into a world I had only heard my father hint at. The acquisition of women – natural slaves, of course, not women like me – assessed and seized from the streets of London where they lived. I was fascinated by it all. And… I glanced around at all the other workstations where other women – Anna-2 and Jessica-6 among them – laboured away at their own work. The truth was, I felt a little hot, a little… aroused… reading all of these slave protocols on my screen. I imagined, only too vividly, Ms. Isabelle Rochester being trained on day 5 as she was confined to a small cage pen, and taught to kneel, crawl, and present her body for inspection by men. I imagined the shock she would feel on day 1 as she was stripped, bathed and depilated following her awakening in a Gorean slave pen. She would know of Gor, obviously, for she served the Steel Worlds as a surveillance agent in London, but never in her wildest dreams would she imagine she might be selected for slavery herself. She would scream, beg, plead, cry out that that this was all a mistake, but no one would listen to her pleas in the slave pen. She would just be another girl, screaming hysterically on her first day of captivity.

 

And then the branding… I shivered, imagining how it would feel to be led into a metal working chamber, seeing the brazier, the handles of the heated irons protruding from the coals, and then the wooden rack on which girls are secured, their left thigh clamped perfectly still. She would know exactly what this meant. She would become hysterical and have to be whipped and restrained. 

 

And then the fitting of her first slave collar. I was breathing so heavily now. In my imagination I was Ms. Isabelle Rochester, and I was pleading, too, to some brute of a Gorean slaver who fitted a leash to my collar ring.

 

I felt burning heat between my thighs.

 

I reached for my glass of water and drank it down in a series of gulps. 

 

Another box was blinking on my screen. I hadn’t noticed it nil now. Capture Protocols: Y/N?

 

I had to click on yes.

 

Capture Protocols (Recommended Sequence for Three-Member Mobile Team in London operating out of S-5 unit) for Isabelle_R (IR-397323):

 

Operational Context: Acquisition to be executed by a compact team of three trained Gorean slavers (designated as Lead, Support, and Extractor) in the high-density urban environment of London. Emphasis on discretion to evade local barbarian authorities; all actions must prioritize speed, silence, and minimal visibility. Standard equipment includes: anaesthetic darts (loaded with slave capture serum for rapid incapacitation), binding cords, concealment cloaks, a nondescript Earth vehicle for transport, and communication devices calibrated for short-range signalling. Operation timed for low-light conditions (e.g., evening hours) in isolated segments of the subject's routine path.

 

Surveillance and Target Confirmation (Pre-Operation Phase): Lead conducts initial reconnaissance to map the subject's daily patterns, confirming identity via visual match to assessment profile (e.g., distinctive hair, gait, attire).

Support monitors for environmental variables, such as pedestrian density or security patrols, using concealed observation posts.

Extractor prepares extraction vehicle in a proximate secure location, ensuring it is unremarkable and equipped with internal restraints.

Duration: 24–48 hours; abort if high-risk factors (e.g., companions or surveillance cameras) cannot be mitigated.

 

Approach and Isolation (Initiation Phase): Team converges on subject during a predicted solitary transit (e.g., evening walk on less-trafficked street).

Lead initiates subtle diversion to isolate—e.g., simulated accidental encounter or directional misguidance into a low-visibility alley or park area.

Support provides perimeter security, deploying non-lethal distractions (e.g., noise suppressants or visual barriers) if bystanders approach.

Objective: Achieve physical proximity without alerting the subject or observers.

 

Subduing and Restraint (Capture Phase): Lead administers anaesthetic via dart or impregnated cloth to the subject's neck or face for immediate sedation (onset within 5–10 seconds; duration 30–60 minutes).

Support applies initial bindings: wrists secured behind back with capture loops, ankles hobbled to prevent flight upon partial recovery.

Extractor assists in muffling vocalizations with a gag and covering the subject with a concealment cloak to simulate a medical emergency if witnessed.

All actions executed in under 30 seconds to minimize exposure.

 

Extraction and Egress (Evacuation Phase): Team transports subdued subject to vehicle, positioning her in a concealed compartment or under cover.

Lead drives to predetermined safe house or portal site for immediate off-world transfer.

Support monitors for pursuit, employing evasion tactics (e.g., route changes, decoy signals) as needed.

Extractor maintains subject's vital signs and administers supplemental sedatives if agitation occurs en-route.

 

Post-Capture Protocols and Contingencies: Upon arrival at secure location, initiate preliminary processing: removal of Earth garments, basic medical check for injuries, and application of temporary collar.

Contingency for complications: If resistance escalates, employ secondary restraints or additional serum; in event of detection, abort and disperse team.

Documentation: Lead records operation details for slaver guild review, including timestamps and asset condition upon acquisition.

 

I closed my eyes and imagined stepping out through the town house door that I had seen in Isabelle’s photo. It would be late evening, and quiet. Why was I even going out onto the street at that hour? Who knows. Maybe some contrived pretext. An emergency call from a supposed friend? It was urgent – I’d been told that much. Obviously I’d called for a taxi. I was hardly going to walk through dark streets to reach my stricken friend. I was a surveillance agent attached to S-3, after all. I knew only too well the risks unaccompanied women faced walking the dark streets of London late at night.

 

And there it was – the taxi I’d called, just waiting for me on the other side of the road. I hurry quickly to it, the heels of my ankle boots clicking on the tarmac as I wave so the driver knows it’s me. I climb into the back seat, pulling my coat a little more snuggly about my body. I pull the hem of my skirt down past my knees. The driver doesn’t turn to face me, but watches me through his rear view mirror. He looks like a very strong man. 

 

And then… at some point… I mean, I’d never actually arrive at my friend’s home… my friend had probably never even called me… I would… at some point… I would be aware we were driving in the wrong direction, or, even if we were going in the right direction, we just weren’t stopping. I’d be polite at first, then indignant, and then concerned. Please stop the car. Please. You must stop the car! I want to get out! Stop this car! NOW!

 

And all around me the dark streets and buildings that made up London, flashing by. I’d see passers-by on the pavement and maybe I‘d press the palms of my hands to the side windows and call out to them as we drove past but they wouldn’t even see me. I’d notice now the subtle tinting of the side windows. Why hadn’t I noticed that when I’d climbed into the back seat? 

 

And then it would dawn on me what was happening. Please… no… this is a mistake. I’m with S-3. You can’t do this! There’s been a mistake!

 

The driver had heard it all before. A partition slides up between the backseat and the front seat. I slap my hands against it, knowing it will do no good. We drive on into the darkness.

 

The screen blinked again. Assign Acquisition of Isabelle_R to S-5: Y/N? It had been blinking for a couple of minutes now, awaiting a response from me. I had been lost in my deep thoughts and my heightened arousal.

 

I hovered the cursor over the Y/N. I closed my eyes and imagined again what might happen.

 

In my mind’s eye I imagined Ms. Isabelle Rochester dressed not in her street clothes, but in the brief and revealing tunic of a kajira, with a steel collar locked about her throat. She was very pretty. She had definite slave curves. I felt sure she was popular with men. 

 

But then the image changed without warning and it was me who now walked down that London street in the scandalous and revealing garment of a Gorean slave. It was me they had come for.

 

It was me who would be taken to Gor, branded, and made to serve men.

 

How horrible.

 

I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. 

 

And then I clicked on ‘N’.