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Chapter 14 : Future Project Opportunities
Tanya Charles had made a point of asking to see Maggie Forbush at the earliest opportunity. Their conversation at first hadn’t been too rewarding. “No,” Maggie had said. ”I don’t believe there are any plans to extend the trial of the inhibitors.”
“Oh,” said Tanya, determined not to be deflected and trusting in the information she had. “Well, if things change I just wanted you to know we’re in a position to undertake mass-production now with the consequent savings in costs and improved availability. And we’ve taken on board the technical feedback from your people. I could arrange another demonstrator, if you like.”
Maggie went silent for a moment, obviously considering the offer. “It’s kind of you Tanya,” she responded, “but I really can’t do anything at the present. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
As it was Maggie’s call came less than an hour later.
“Tanya,” she said, “about our last discussion. I might need your help after all.”
Tanya allowed herself a smug smirk at the other end of the phone.
“The Minister is just back from Cabinet. There’s a commitment to go ahead with the detention service project before the end of the year. And apparently the party is making a manifesto pledge to provide funding for its use domestically, grants for those that need them and so forth. It seems the PM’s got very keen on all this. Thinks it’s a real vote catcher, apparently. Anyway, you’d better let me have a note on the latest costs and availability.”
“Of course, Maggie, I’m happy to help.” Tanya put down the phone with a considerable feeling of satisfaction. It sounded as though she would be able to get this contract without the need for an open tender.
***** ***** ***** ****** ******
“Hello boys,” Celia welcomed two of the office interns to the small meeting room. “I’m so pleased Deborah felt able to make you available for work in my section.”
The two young men looked at one another nervously. They were already finding their first jobs more of a challenge than they had ever imagined. It was their first venture into the workplace. They’d had a sheltered upbringing. The single-sex private school that they’d attended had meant they’d avoided the worst of the teasing and torments that their contemporaries experience at State schools. Now they were having to adapt quickly to the real world.
“We’re pleased to be here, Mistress,” the taller, pale skinned, acne pocked one of the two said.
“You don’t call me, Mistress; least ways not while we’re at work.” Celia’s predatory grin was enough to drain what little colour there was from the lads face. “It’s Ma’am in the office. What’s your name?”
“Gordon, Ma’am,” the young man stammered.
“And you?” Celia to the other.
“Desmond, Ma’am,” his colleague replied.
Celia looked at the two young men. Recalling the ideas that the exhibition at the Tate Gallery had given her, she was sure this project was going to be fun.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“We’ve got a treat for you, Leonard,” the guard smirked as she opened the door of his cell and unlocked the chain that linked his collar to the wall. “First though you need a little silencer.” She waved the red rubber ball and its strap that was often applied whenever he left his cell.
James stood passively as she fitted the gag. He’d tried resisting just once. He had soon discovered that the guards were well trained in self-defence. He’d ended up on the floor with a knee in his back, bruised and sore and with the gag in place just the same.
This one of the guards was quite a bit shorter than he was. As she stood behind him she had to reach up to fasten the straps of the gag. As she pulled he fell back against her, feeling the cool fabric of her shirt and the softness of her breasts against his naked back. “Bloody well stand still, Leonard,” she snapped, tugging his wrists behind him and cuffing them together.
The fleeting touch against the guard was enough to fuel James’s sexual responses. He felt his cock stiffening, in spite of the inadvisability of the reaction.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the guard responded, seeing his erection pushing his cock against his loose coverall trousers as she turned him around to clip her own leash to his collar. “Come along with me.”
She led him along the corridor to the door from the hut and out into the yard. It was early in the evening. Most of the others were locked down, ready for the night. The yard was quiet. There was another hut close to the wire that James hadn’t been in before. The guard led him inside. “Over there,” she said gesturing to a low leather padded frame.
James recognised the punishment horse at once but couldn’t for the life of him think what he had done to earn a beating. His quizzical “Hurnghh?” grunted through his gag brought only irritation from the guard.
“Don’t worry about it, just do as you’re told. Bend over the fucking horse!” She pulled him across to it and jerked his leash to drag his head down over the back of the horse. Reaching under his chin she clipped the ring on his collar to a link on the horse, holding him in place.
James heard a noise from the far side of the hut. The guard stood up and turned around, her backside only inches from his face, the pale khaki of her uniform fabric stretched so tightly as to clearly reveal to James the line of the panties she wore beneath.
“Oh, you’re here,” he heard the guard say.
“Sure,” another woman’s voice responded. As she walked up to where the guard was standing James could see her legs. A short black kilt, white socks and trainers told him that this was one of the New Opportunity girls. “Here’s your money,” she said. “We’ll be an hour or so.”
“Have fun!” the guard said, giving James a playful pat on his backside. “And don’t let him off the horse. He’s docile enough but I don’t want to come back here and find you’ve lost him.”
James responded with a grunt of alarm. The New Opportunity girl responded by crouching down so that her face was level with his. James stared straight into her blue eyes, a disarmingly innocent looking face, freckles on her nose, her blonde hair drawn into bunches. “Don’t worry,” she said, stroking the back of his neck in a way that James found anything but reassuring, “you’re not going to be beaten.”
There was the sound of the hut’s doors opening again and giggling girls. “Bring her over here,” the girl standing by James called. “And don’t make so much row, we’re not supposed to be here.”
“Sorry, Jen!” a voice form behind James replied. “We have the initiate.”
James tried to turn his head to see as best as he could what was going on. Two other girls in the same black kilt and white sweater as Jen had a third girl standing between them. She too wore the New Opportunity uniform but had been blindfolded and was standing with her hands behind her back.
“Very good,” said Jen. “Bring her forward.”
There was a shuffling sound behind James.
“Caroline Wallace, are you prepared to be initiated?”
An uncertain voice responded. James assumed it was the blindfolded girl. “Yes.”
“Very well. On this your nineteenth birthday you have gained the right to become one of us. But to join us you have to demonstrate your commitment to the aims of New Opportunity.”
The nervous voice responded, “I understand.”
“First position!” Jen exclaimed.
James felt someone grip him by the hair on the back of his head, lifting him as the blindfolded girl was brought in front of him. He could see that her hands had been tied loosely behind her back with a length of cloth or a scarf. Jen lifted the girl’s skirt and pushed her backward so that her naked backside pressed against James’s face. The skirt was dropped back down, draping itself over James’s head as the girl wiggled her arse, pressing his face deeper into the cleft between her buttocks. Barely able to breathe, James tried to struggle against the chain that held him to the horse and the grip on the back of his head that pressed him forward against the girl’s backside. The effect was only to encourage the girl who pressed back against him with more enthusiasm. “Ten, nine, eight...” One of the others began a countdown until on the count of zero, the girl stepped away to a cheer, letting James breathe once again.
“Second position!” Jen went on.
Now the girl was turned around so that her crotch was placed level with James’s face. The hand gripping the back of his hair guided his face forward until his nose was buried in her vulva, depriving him of air once more as he tried to gasp for breath around the ball of the gag that stuffed his mouth. The girl wriggled in pleasure as James struggle in response to his shortness of breath. “This is fun,” she cried. “Ooooh, that’s so nice. Another tug on his hair repositioned him. As the girl pressed back against his face, her pubic hair rubbed against him and the scent of her moistening cunt filled his nostrils. The girl stayed pressed against him for quite a while but another countdown announced the end of that part of the initiation. “Take his gag off,” Jen ordered and the strap around James’s head was unbuckled and the bal; pulled from his mouth.
James got as far as uttering the words, “Please, don’t...” before the girl was pushed back against him. Behind he felt his trousers being pulled down around his knees. A whack with a crop or a cane and a barked, “Use your tongue, dork!” told him what was expected next.
James worked hard. The occasional encouraging blow to his buttocks drove his efforts and the blindfolded girl pushed back at him with more enthusiasm her labia, becoming wetter by the minute. She stared to whimper, a cry at the back of her throat that seemed to get higher by the moment. The other girls, laughing, went through the count down and, at zero pulled her away. “Ooo, that’s cruel,” the initiate said.
“Well, you wouldn’t want to miss the best bit, would you?” The voice from behind James was accompanied by more raucous laughter, as Jen took hold of dildo and slid it between the girl’s lips and up into her cunt. Pulling it out again she presented it to James.
“Kiss and suck,” she said, pushing it into James’s mouth.
As James sucked on the hard rubber phallus, the two girls that had brought in the initiate came forward and started to strap a leather harness about the girl’s hips. The struggle she gave in response seemed to show that she wasn’t prepared for this part of the ceremony. With the harness in place the girl was brought forward until her belly was once more close to James’s face. James caught a glimpse of a hand as the dildo in his mouth was clipped to the girl’s harness and then came the choking sensation as the girl pushed it was pushed against him, ramming the dildo against the back of his throat.
“The final position,” intoned Jen.
“Arse, arse, arse,” the others chanted as the initiate was pulled away and James’s mouth was freed. It was evident what was about to happen.
James tried to object. “No, please he begged, I never .... Ooolp” The initiate’s dildo pressed home against his anus, slipping the rubber prick deep inside him. As he struggled the girl responded from the pressure of the dildo’s harness against her crotch.
“He’s an arse virgin too!” exclaimed one of the girls.
“Just as well the guard didn’t know, she’d have stung us for more,” Jen answered.
The initiate was squealing with delight at the sensation of the dildo pressing against her and James’s anguished response to penetration. The other two were chanting, “Arse, arse, arse” over and over again urging her on. James felt the dildo pushing inside him, an extraordinary filling sensation at once humiliating, arousing and disturbing. He felt the girl quiver as she approached her orgasm; his own cock stiff in spite of the unwanted nature of her sexual attentions.
“Enough!” announced Jen, suddenly.
As James felt the dildo slide clear of his arse, leaving him empty, he gave a whimpering grunt.
Jen announced, “By executing the three positions, you have demonstrated your commitment to the values of New Opportunity. Free the initiate!”
The girls giggled as the new girl was released from her blindfold and her bonds. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “It really is one of the detainees! I thought it was one of the house boys.”
“Well,” said Jen, as a fully fledged member of the inner circle of New Opportunity you get your pendant.” She held out a glass and silver pendant to the girl. James had seen some of the New Opportunity girls wearing them; he’d wondered what they were. “Fill it!”
“Fill it?” James thought.
A moment later the girl crouched beside him and gripped his cock tightly. “Come on, jerk,” she goaded, “after all that fun you can fill my pendant.”
She started pulling and squeezing at his cock, anxious to milk him for the sperm that would fill her initiation pendant. Obviously inexperienced at masturbating males, her grip was overly tight, pulling like she was jerking on the teats of a cow, painfully crushing him until he was desperate to come but barley able to get close because of the experiences he had had in the Fetter Lane house. The longer it took, the more urgent the girl’s tugs and twists became but finally James managed to come, spurting a few drops that the girl greedily wiped into the glass phial of her pendant to the chorused cheers of the others.
“We thought you’d never manage it!” Jen laughed, “But you’re one of us now. You’ve earned your pendant.”
Without a word to James, the four girls left, leaving him shackled to the bench, his bruised cock, dripping cum to the floor between his legs. It was some time before Whittaker came to reclaim him. She sighed with disapproval as she unfastened him from the frame. She shook her head. “Look at the state of you,” she said. “Still you’ve earned me a few quid, so why should I worry?”
James followed her on his leash back to his cell. He felt safer there, once she locked the door.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Norm crouched down behind the wall. He must be ten miles from town by now. He still wasn’t sure how he had managed to get away, how he’d gathered the strength to break out of the improvised cage that Angie had made him build for himself. Cow! Locking the belt on him had been the last straw. He had known that if he hadn’t broken away then he would never had got away.
He’d found a little money in the flat. It had paid for a meal and an overcoat but now it was gone. He didn’t even have his ident card, though it would have been worse than useless anyway.
He had walked all night and hidden during the day. With no papers he hadn’t dare risk an encounter with police. At least here, out of town, there weren’t the regular patrols. He’d have a better chance; maybe he’d find a way of contacting a dissident group or just some others like him, men that couldn’t take it anymore. It shouldn’t be difficult. If he believed the way the news warned about the constant risk of anti-social activity, the countryside must be swarming with them.
His back was aching, the muscles sore from his escape. He would never have believed that he had the strength to break out of the cage. The wound in his crotch had stopped bleeding at least. It was ironic really; the cloth that he’d wound around himself as a bandage numbed any sense of feeling as effectively as the chastity belt had. He should have been more careful but he’d been determined to cut himself out of the belt.
He pulled the coat around him and tore a hunk of bread from the loaf that he’d stolen just before dawn. It was almost dark again. Soon it would be time to get moving once more. He looked up. The wall he was hiding behind was in corner of a farmyard. It looked deserted. There was a derelict corrugated iron barn behind him. Rotting hay bales were piled in one corner.
Norm heard voices, in the lane, coming towards him. He crouched down, his belly to the ground. He edged his way backward, towards the shelter of the barn. The voices kept coming closer; two women, talking. Norm backed around behind the hay bales, hoping that whoever they were they would pass him by.
“Well, something’s going on. I’m sure someone has been around the back of the farm house, disturbing things, trying to break in maybe.”
“Who’s going to be doing that? There’s never any trouble in the village.”
“Maybe not, but we’re not so far from the town.”
Norm shrank down as the voices came closer, burying himself as best he could under the hay, trying desperately not to move or make a sound. There was a creaking sound as the door of the barn swung open. Squinting out through a gap between the bales, all he could see of the women was their legs. Two pairs of tight jodhpurs, two pairs of muddied rubber riding boots; one of the women thin, the other fatter; both, from their voices, middle-aged.
“You see there’s nothing here.”
“I’m still not happy. Let’s go back to the farmhouse and fetch the dogs up here. If there’s anything amiss they’ll sniff it out.”
“All right, if it will make you happy.”
“It will. The last thing I want is any of those townie dissidents causing trouble with the farm gang. It’s hard enough to get a decent day’s work out of them as it is.”
The sound of the women’s voices died away. Norm was panic stricken. He daren’t stay in the barn any longer nor get any closer to the village. There was some woodland further along the valley, perhaps he could make it to there.
He waited for a few minutes to let the women get clear and broke out of the back of the barn, heading away from the village along a rutted track. He’d only gone a few hundred yards when he heard the bark of the dogs. That alone was enough to encourage him to redouble his efforts, finally breaking through a hedgerow into the woods, gasping for breath and sweating, his skin scratched by thorn bushes.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Barry Haste was almost sick with tiredness. The early morning start for the agency work, the long day of cleaning jobs and the tasks around the home once he got back left hardly any time for sleep. The weeks of coping on four hours sleep a night at best were taking their toll. He found himself falling asleep on his feet as he tried to finish ironing the last of his wife’s clothes.
It took him another hour. As he finished he went in search of Valerie. She was in the lounge, curled up on the couch with her lover. They were both ready for bed; lounging, relaxed in silk dressing gowns, Valerie in the one that he had used to wear, Margery in the one that Barry had given his wife only a year before. The two of them fondling and stroking each other.
“Have you finished, Barry dear?” Valerie asked, pausing in her attentions to Margery.
Barry, numb with fatigue, nodded.
“How was work today?” Val asked. Margery uncurled herself, pulled a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table and lit it.
“OK.” Barry wasn’t keen to start a discussion; all he wanted to do was to get to his bed.
“That’s not what I heard.” Valerie’s response was icy cold. Barry, in turn, looked uncomfortable. “According to what I hear from the Agency, measures were needed to address certain performance issues. Is that so?”
Barry, looked down at the ground and nodded. The inspection at the end of the mornings cleaning had revealed some areas that he had missed. It was almost impossible to get things so that the white gloved finger of the inspector didn’t find some fault but this time there had been a corner of greasy dirt that he had completely overlooked. The punishment had been swift and painful but he had thought that it had all been dealt with at work.
“Show me.” Valerie’s tone now took on an exasperated note.
Barry, turned his back on his wife, unfastened his belt and lowered his trousers and pants revealing the multi-coloured stripes and bruising of the morning’s beatings. The combination of the inspector’s crop, his work-gang manager’s cane and the paddle of the property owner had left his arse covered with a patchwork of painful looking marks. He felt Valery’s finger trace out the line of one of the more painful cuts.
“He has been a bad boy, hasn’t he?” Margery joked.
“It’s no laughing matter,” Val returned. “I introduced him to the agency. If he doesn’t perform how does that make me look? And it’s obvious from this that he hasn’t been performing.” She turned back to her husband. “Turn around!” Barry turned to face his wife. His head hanging in shame. His hands clasped in front of him. “Now, if you don’t buck your ideas up there’s going to be a parting of the ways between you and me. Believe me, you don’t want to try your luck as an unsponsored male but I will cut you off if anything like this happens again. Do you understand? And get your hands away from your cock! That’s half your trouble. No wonder you can’t keep your mind on what you’re doing.”
Barry was wilting under the verbal onslaught. Margery, impatient for the return of her lover’s attentions was trying to distract her by pushing the silk dressing gown from her shoulder and nuzzling her in the crease of flesh between her arm and her breast. Valerie was finding it hard not to respond and eventually gave in.
“All right,” she said to Barry. “Fetch our toy box from the bed room and then get yourself some sleep. You’d better turn in an improved performance tomorrow.” She turned back to Margery.
She seemed not to be interested in any reply. As Barry left the room he heard her say to Margery, “Did you say that they were planning to use inhibitors in the prison service?”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“Looks like you get your day in court,” the guard snapped as she slid back the barred door to James’s cell. “On your feet, 24601,” she said, “You’re coming with me.”
Being let out of the cell was a novelty in itself. Prisoners that had been sentenced had their exercise hour and reorientation classes, prisoners on remand got to spend time with their lawyers, if they had them, but James didn’t seem to fit into any of the usual categories and, as a result, nobody knew what to do with him. That meant he was staying in his cell virtually all of the time but it was safer in there he felt. On the other hand, he thought, I’ll get to see something of the outside world.
He was disappointed. The trip out went no further than the end of the cell block, into a large airy, well lit, room. There were others there already. To the left one woman sat motionless, dressed all in black her head and face veiled beneath a dark cloth. Another woman similarly dressed stood on the left of the room talking busily with a group of other soberly dressed women. Lawyers, James assumed, looking like a gang of crows. The women on the right all turned when another woman, identically dressed appeared through the door at the far end of the room. She took her seat and beckoned James forward. His guard pushed him forward to a chair in the centre of the room.
Behind her almost opaque black veil, Catherine Stearns surveyed the scene in the room. She called the group of counsel to order and reminded all present that this was a hearing under the Preservation of Public Order Act. “For the benefit of the subject of this hearing,” she turned and nodded towards where James was standing flanked by two guards, “you should be aware that the powers of this hearing are to take whatever measures are deemed necessary to prevent social disruption. Counsel appear veiled here. This is to ensure that there is no question of intimidation or reprisal for the actions of the hearing. There is no personal agenda here that requires counsel or court staff to be recognised. Justice is blind and this court is a representative of the state, not of any of our personal feelings.”
The lawyers to James’s right nodded in agreement. The one to his left sat unmoving.
“Now perhaps the Counsel for Society would like to open.” Judge Stearns turned towards the lawyers on James’s right.
One got to her feet; a pillar of black, devoid of features. “The detainee is in protective custody because of the nature of crimes that he was witness to and involved in.”
That’s hardly fair, thought James, I was forced to do what I did. I didn’t have any choice.
“It is alleged that there a number of senior representatives of the state were involved in criminal practices contradictory to those approved by the Government,” the lawyer went on. “If the detainee were to be returned to society there would be a risk to his well being from either those directly involved in these offences or those who would seek to exploit them for political ends.”
Stearns recognised James, of course. His baffled empty eyes held as little now as when they had stared out at her from behind the ski-mask as he fucked her in the dingy room in Fetter Lane. Fortunately the apparatus of the state would make sure that her own tendencies would never become a matter of public debate.
“I want to be certain that before the detainee is allowed back into society that we can be confident that he will neither be the cause of disruption nor the recipient of intimidation.” Catherine Stearns was taking great care to spell out her expectations for the hearing. “As you know this is not a trial, merely a hearing of a protective detention order.” She turned to the other lawyer. “What does Counsel for the Individual have to say?”
James looked towards the lawyer on his left, perhaps now he would get some words of support he felt, some expression of the fact that he posed no threat to public order. The lawyer said nothing. Unmoving she gave no sign of having heard a word of what the judge had said. A draft cut across the courtroom as the door opened and a guard came in with more papers for the judge. It caught the edge of the lawyer’s veil and as it flicked at the dark cloth, James saw the reason for his counsel’s silence. The figure to his right was a mannequin. A shop window dummy in lawyer’s garb. Nothing more than a token gesture to the rights of the accused. James was about to make an objection when the two guards at his side, realising that his manner had changed, grabbed hold of him by the arms with a firm grip that said, “No trouble, or else.”
James’s indignation subsided. Of course it was a sham, what else had he expected?
“Very good,” Stearns went on. “I shall make an order for an indeterminate period of protective custody. Periodic review will take place to establish whether the circumstances requiring the order have changed. First review will take place in six months. Subsequent reviews will occur at dates to be determined by the hearing judge and the then current needs for protection.”
The only question is, thought James, who is being protected?
“This hearting is concluded,” Stearns announced getting to her feet. The other lawyers, with the exception of James’s “counsel” got to their feet. The two guards hustled James towards the door, on his way back to his cell. A light tap of a truncheon on his back was all he needed to let him know that his views were not welcomed at this time and that his best policy was to carry on doing as he was told.
As James was escorted from the room he overheard the judge as she turned to the Governor. “It’s safer if he stays here, obviously,” she said.
“We’re not equipped for long term detention here,” the Governor responded. “But I can see your point. If any suspicion that senior party members were involved in those practices were to get out....”
James suddenly realised the danger of his situation,
“Exactly.” Catherine Stearns felt considerable relief. It had all gone smoothly, but then this sort of hearing usually did. There shouldn’t be any further difficulty over Fetter Lane. Johannsen had made it clear through her Fixer what was required and Catherine had delivered. She wasn’t sure whether any of them knew of her personal involvement but maybe it didn’t matter.
James watched as she went. One of the guards pulled him by the arm.
“Come on, back to your cell. Looks like you’re going to be here quite a while.”
James had no choice but to go with them. As far as he was concerned all he would be seeing of New Order’s wonderful society for some time was the inside of Camp Lima.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Prime Minister Johannsen looked up as her limousine swept through traffic lights under police escort. The streets were quiet in the early evening. A recent shower had set a glistening sheen on the pavements that shone back the street lights as they began to flicker on. They passed the Tate Gallery heading for Earls Court. Johannsen saw a small crowd of women emerging from the exhibition. It had been quite a success by all accounts. Culture, Media and Her-itage were doing a good job.
The car drove on along The Embankment. Johannsen’s thoughts turned to the evening ahead. Addressing the party faithful was always a problem. There had to be a balancing act to be managed between the waverers and backsliders on one hand and the overly ambitious on the other, and of course anything she said to the party would be all over the press the following day.
Still at least this time she had some good news to share with them.
The announcement on the introduction of inhibitors would play well with the hardliners, they’d see bringing them in to the detention service as a precursor to more widespread use. Johannsen wouldn’t have to announce the manifesto commitment, there’d be enough speculation to let everyone judge how much of a problem or not public opinion on that would be.
The other bit of good news had come from the trade secretary. Finally there had been some improvement in the manufacturing sector. It was something Johannsen was particularly keen on. The last thing she wanted was for the economy to be dependent on imports, especially when then were labour resources available. The combination of directed labour and the removal of the minimum wage for males had been enough to re-establish the country as a manufacturing centre. The decision of the Koreans to off-shore some of their manufacturing to the UK had been a real success for the combination of foreign policy and encouraging inward investment. That would be something that soft wing of the party could point to as a New Order achievement. The Chinese were talking about it too. The Foreign Secretary had been very excited about that one. They were keen to send their own management over too and they hadn’t been deterred when they’d been told that they’d have to conform to local labour laws on positive sexual discrimination in managerial posts. Of course there were still some moaning minnies that claimed Britain was simply becoming the world’s sweat shop but with entrepreneurs like Anne Tennant, Johannsen was confident that there would be enough industrial innovation as well to rebuild the economy. In the mean time, making trainers for Korea or garments for the Chinese would keep the work force busy.
It was all coming together nicely.
***** ***** ***** ****** ***** ***** *****
THE END
Or at least the end for now.
What happens to Johannsen and her government?
What will work be like in the new British sweat shops?
Does Barry find out about the government’s “inhibitor” program?
Can Norm stay out on the run?
How does Celia deal with the interns?
How will Tenant’s business fare?
Will anyone ever find out about Catherine’s secret?
What will those New Opportunity girls get up to?
Can James survive in the New Order world?
Maybe a future tale will explore some or all of these.
What do you think?
© Freddie Clegg 2009
No posting or reproduction without permission
All Characters & Events Fictitious
More femdom tales at : http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Femdom_Fables/
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