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It had been a bad day. James had been to the Opportunity Centre. There had been about twenty of them standing around in the big room where they handed out appointments. The two appointment windows that opened through the security screens remained closed.
On the far side James could see half a dozen Opportunity Centre staff doing something. It wasn’t terribly clear what it might be and they didn’t seem to be in any hurry to open the appointment windows.
James took the time to look at the cards on the displays around the room. “Opportunities” was the word but he wasn’t eligible for most of them. “Only privately sponsored applicants considered,” or “No Sponsor? Don’t Even Ask!” most of them said.
The ones that he could apply for either sounded like they were beyond his physical abilities (most of the manual jobs involved harder work than he had ever had to do – there were a few cards for “Farm Workers” and James knew that would mean hard work in the fields and sleeping in a barn) or needed skills that he didn’t possess. He couldn’t see anything that looked like office or clerical work that didn’t involve him needing a sponsor.
The clatter of a grille being raised announced that someone at least had deigned to open one of the appointment windows. James joined the line and shuffled forward as one after the other of the waiting group made their way to the window.
As he reached the front of the queue the girl on the other side of the window, looked up. She was barely twenty years old looked up but she looked as though she had already inherited the jaded and misanthropic manner of long serving OC staff. “Ident Card,” she said without blinking.
“Oh, yes, of course,” said James, fumbling in his coat pocket for the plastic card. The girl sighed with impatience. He pushed it into the slot in front of him.
The girl’s attention went to her computer screen. James realised he was staring at her, noticing how the white of her bra straps showed through her crisp white blouse and how the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck escaped over her collar. She turned round suddenly. He almost fell over backwards. “Police interview last night, eh?” she said. “Anything we should know about?”
“No, no,” said James. “It was some sort of mistake. They just interviewed me.” James shouldn’t have been surprised. It was routine knowledge that all state departments shared their computer files these days.
“No smoke, I say,” the girl responded. “Still it doesn’t make much difference. You aren’t sponsored. I don’t have anything for an unsponsored applicant.”
“Could I get an interview for a sponsorship?”
“Dunno,” the girl said. “Police investigation won’t help. Neither will you staring at my tits.”
“I didn’t, I wasn’t,” James protested but the girl just laughed.
“Come back tomorrow,” the girl said. “Who knows, you might get lucky.”
James nodded. He wasn’t getting his hopes up. He knew she was only talking about an interview at the very best and he wasn’t expecting much to come of that.
Outside the OC, he turned back towards his flat. It was late and starting to get dark. There was a black and white across the road. There seemed to be a lot them about these days. Or maybe he was just attracting attention in some way. A group of four women, arm in arm, talking animatedly were heading towards him, taking up most of the pavement. He had to step into the road to let them pass. There was a blast from the horn of the black and white as it swerved around him. The girls turned to look as if it had all been his fault.
The walk back was dogged by one instance after another of those things that demonstrated the things that had changed since New Order came to power. There were the “No Males” signs on the subway that meant he had to cross the road, edging his way through the traffic and the same signs on some of the footways forcing him to walk on one side of the road or the other. There were posters promoting the latest campaign by the Ministry of Justice to suppress dissident groups; encouraging the public to denounce (although that wasn’t the word they used) suspected members of subversive groups.
Each of his steps back towards the apartment were like the little steps that had chipped away at his freedoms until, suddenly, he saw he had few, if any, left. Sponsorship had been the main way that the State had done its work. If you weren’t sponsored you couldn’t do that, then you couldn’t do this, and then, and then… Needing a sponsor to counter sign a passport application had been one of the first things. Then his passport had expired and he couldn’t renew it and now he couldn’t leave the country even if he wanted to. Needing a sponsor for a private bank account had been the next thing, so he’d ended up with an account with the state bank. That had been a hangover from the financial crisis but now New Order used it to make sure that those without sponsors had ‘help’ in managing the little money they had left after their taxes. They didn’t offer credit cards of course and although he’d heard there were such things as overdrafts and loans available he didn’t know anyone that had one.
James’s route took him around the edge of the main shopping district. Even if he had money to spend he’d be hard pushed to spend it here. The shops catered, as shop always do, to those with money. And that didn’t include him. Or anyone like him. This street was all clothes shops; clothes and shoes and they weren’t for him. The red signs took him to the far side of the road as he watched the girls across the street, clustered around the brightly lit windows of D&G and Jimmy Choo. He tripped, stubbing his toe on the raised edge of a paving stone. He suddenly realised that this side of the road wasn’t maintained. He’d never thought about it before. The street lamp over his head flickered and he saw that the next one was out. A pool of gloom shadowed the doorways in this side of the street. Nothing had been done to make things any easier on the men’s side of the street.
He got to the end of the road. There was a short cut that he sometimes took past the food shops. He crossed over but then saw he couldn’t go that way any more. Another sign had appeared; a red circle, at the top, the inverted Venus sign, beneath it the Mars and inverted Venus signs with a plus sign between them in a red circle. Only women or accompanied men, it meant; no way though for someone without a sponsor. He passed the end of the road. In the lights of the stores women were emerging, their men following close behind laden with their choices. At least he didn’t have to follow a sponsor, around, James told himself as he turned down yet another badly lit, ill maintained road, heading for home.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Barry Haste followed his wife out of the store. The bags were weighing him down already and they still had a way to go to where the car was parked. Valerie stood chatting to friends it gave Barry a chance to catch up. As he struggled with the bags he saw a solitary figure walking between the patches of gloom on the far side of the street. There was only one reason why someone would be walking over there. “Lucky bastard,” Barry thought to himself. “fancy being able to stay without a sponsor this long.”
Barry watched the figure shuffle away. It was only as he turned back that he saw his wife was standing, waiting for him with arms folded. “Oh,” she said, “decided to join me, have you?”
He knew where this was leading. “Sorry,” he said, “I….”
“Never mind. We’ll deal with it later.”
Barry edged past Valerie’s friends. The remarks as he passed only confirmed that they thought he was in for what he already feared. Their accompanying laughs, he could tell, were annoying his wife even more.
“Oh,dear, trouser’s down!” “I think someone’s going to an unhappy bunny later.” “Off to bed with no tea, or worse!” “Much worse!”
They got back to the car. Fuming, Valerie climbed in to the rear passenger seat leaving Barry to pack the shopping away before climbing in to drive.
“I’m sorry,” he began almost as soon as the car was moving.
“Don’t!” she cut him off. “Just don’t! I will not be humiliated like that. Ever!” She sat back in her seat and relapsed into a silence that filled the car like a thick wad of impending doom as Barry drove home.
By the end of the evening Valerie was enjoying the comforting of her lover, Margery. The two of them slept, curled around each other beneath the warm flowered quilt that covered the double bed. Margery sighed quietly as she slept, her lips still most with the taste of her lover. Valerie slept with arms curled protectively around the younger woman, her own state of relaxation brought on by the combination of Margery’s attentions and the satisfaction of correcting Barry’s mistake.
Barry, however, was enjoying no comfort at all. He was in the bedroom with his wife, it was true, but stretched, face down, across the seat of Valerie’s dressing table stool. He was tied there; his wrists bound to the legs of the stool with the stockings she had taken off as she undressed. He was gagged; his mouth stuffed with not only Valerie’s panties but Margery’s too; a pungent tasting, mouth filling, combination that was held in place by the two women’s bra’s tied across his mouth. His real discomfort however, resulted from the reason why they had gagged him. It was the only way to stifle the sobs resulting from the sound thrashing that Valerie had administered to his backside with her hair brush before pushing it down the front of his underpants, bristle side towards his cock.
It would be a while before he failed to give his wife his full attention again.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Janice was entertaining Celia and Nadine with the promised dinner. The three were starting on the pudding course. Janice’s new Houseboy appeared with a tray of desserts to offer around. Three empty bottles of wine stood on the table.
“I see you left the mask off after all,” Celia said, nodding towards the man as he placed the tray so that Nadine could make her choice. He looked puzzled at Celia’s remark.
Janice said “Shh!” and giggled, remembering her Hannibal Lecter remark of the day before. The man left the tray and went back towards the kitchen, the sound of chinking crockery and glassware announced that he was already starting on the washing up.
“Well, he can certainly cook,” Celia took a spoonful of chocolate mousse a licked it up with enthusiasm.
“And the rest?” Nadine prompted.
“And the rest!” Janice looked smug. The man reappeared to collect the desert dishes. The three girls burst out laughing, much to his confusion.
“Well, I think you’ve got a find. Good to look at. And quite docile too.”
The man looked embarrassed.
“Yes, he’s sweet. Where did you get him? He’s not off the unsponsored list is he? Or did you latch on to one of those you were laying off this week?”
Janice pulled a face at Nadine’s suggestion. “No thank you!” she said. The thought of someone like that James Leonard in her house, much less in her bedroom was more than she could imagine. “Anyway how are you all getting along? I thought you’d decided you wanted a bit of personal attention around the house?”
Celia and Nadine grinned. Celia slid alongside Nadine nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear. “Nadine gets quite enough attention, don’t you dear?” Celia said, sliding her hand along her friend’s thigh.
Nadine slapped it away playfully. “Slut!” she accused in an amused voice. “Well, you can’t have too much of a good thing, I say. And some of the new accounting interns look quite tempting.”
Janice smiled, “That will be a challenge; Deborah will have her talons into them already.”
“Are you suggesting our chief accountant is something of a predator?” Celia giggled. Deborah’s reputation was formidable but even so with twenty new boys coming into the accounting pool there was bound to be some male flesh spare. “There has to be some over for the rest of us. And anyway you should have seen some of them tripping over their tongues when I went down to see Deborah this afternoon.”
“Purely by coincidence of course.” Nadine said with a slightly acid tone in her voice. “Nothing to do with that really short skirt and that tight top you were wearing.”
“I was just giving Deborah the chance to show that she had them properly under control,” Celia replied looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “They did all so try to keep their minds on what they doing, too!”
“It’s no good, I’m going to have to take her home,” Nadine shook her head in mock exasperation. Janice knew Nadine was getting hot, thinking about her lover showing off to the men in Deborah’s accounting pool; the two of them would look seriously hung over in the morning if Janice knew them at all. Celia took her cue eagerly and the two of them thanked Janice effusively and left. Janice didn’t mind. She found their sexual adventuring amusing, even if her own sex life was a little more prosaic.
“Can I clear away, Miss?”
Janice thought for a moment. “Yes, err, yes, Jerry.” She didn’t sound very sure about it. Jerry wasn’t sure if it was the disinterest he was used to from women or the effects of the wine. Whichever it was the table still needed to be cleared. He got started.
Janice sat back watching him. There was no doubt that he was nicely configured. Tight little arse shown off by those trousers, quite a well muscled torso beneath that tee shirt. Oh, well, what the hell,” thought Janice. “There’s no reason why Celia and Nadine should be the only ones with a hangover tomorrow.”
She turned to Jerry. “Leave that for now,” she said. “I’ve got something else for you to do.”
“Yes, Miss,” Jerry said as Janice turned her back on him, making it clear by the way that she stretched that she wanted her dress unzipped. She wriggled her shoulders sensuously as he slid the tag down from her neck towards where the cleft of her buttocks dived beneath her pants. He gave an inward sigh. He had been hoping he would get to finish the dinner things and then bed down. It looked like Janice had other plans though.
Janice slipped the dress off and rolled over on the couch, smiling up at Jerry. “I’ve had a very tiring evening,” she said, “I do so need a little relaxation before bed time. You know how to help, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miss,” Jerry said, lowering his head to her neck, kissing it and then brushing his lips down over her shoulders, across her chest and down into her cleavage. Janice was an attractive woman. Her blonde hair, blue eyes and sculpted figure would entice any man. Ten years ago, as he’d emerged from adolescence, he’d have been cat-calling a girl like Janice with his friends. But the election of New Order had brought behaviour like that to an end, and that had just been the start. Now Jerry could only wonder if he might aspire to more than his current status. Perhaps she might take him on in a fully sponsored role one day but in any case…. Janice responded to his touch taking his hands and moving them towards her breasts. Her nipples already stiffening, became harder under his fingers and Janice sighed as the caresses took their effect.
With Janice’s encouraging response, Jerry found himself becoming aroused too, although for him it was a less pleasurable experience. As his arousal grew and his tumescence increased and so did the discomfort from the metal cage that enclosed his cock. As Jerry’s tongue slid from one nipples to the other it touched on the chain that she wore around her neck and, there hanging in her cleavage, the key to the lock that kept his cage closed.
“Please, Miss, my cage,” he begged. But Janice, lost in her own passion, ignored him, pausing only to push his head further down so that he would use his tongue between her thighs. The musky scent of her arousal and the sensuous feel of the damp silk of her pants on his tongue did nothing to alleviate Jerry’s discomfort. All he could hope for was to bring her to a rapid and exhausting climax and then to try and divert his own thoughts.
Janice however was in the mood to prolong her pleasure, pushing him back on the couch, pressing her hands on his nipples, straddling his face with her crotch and arching her back to press her sex forward against his face. It was another hour before Janice, sated, sank back in her own bed, carried there by Jerry. “Mmm, thank you, boy,” she said. “Are you going to bed now?”
Jerry, his tongue numb from the use Janice had made of it and his cock sore from its constant pressing on his cage, did little more than nod.
“Mmm, good,” said Janice and stretched back on the bed. Jerry headed back to the kitchen to finish his chores. It was an hour later when he padded back to his space at the end of the corridor beside Janice’s room. As he passed Janice’s door the sound of snoring came from within and Jerry moved quietly so as not to disturb her. The floor to ceiling bars that she’d had installed to separate the end of the corridor from the rest of it created a small cage for Jerry. Inside was his bed mat and cover, a hangar for his clothes, a jug of water and the chemical closet that he had to use when he was in there. He went inside and pulled the door shut behind him, the door locking with a click. He knew that he daren’t leave the door unlocked for Miss Janice to discover. At least he could have some sleep and respite for his swollen cock until the morning, assuming that was he could get the scent of Janice’s sex from his nostrils and the thoughts of Nadine and Celia at sexual play from his brain.
© Freddie Clegg 2009
All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission.
All characters fictitious
E-mail: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web Groups: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Femdom_Fables/
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