Call In For Sexual Slavery (TBC)

Alice stared blankly ahead, sounds muffled around her like wool was covering her ears. There were people around her, she vaguely understood, although this fact did not appear to register in her mind. They were talking, talking about something of some importance. Again she understood this, although how important it really was alluded her. Her eyes were like glass, unfocussed, staring ahead at the hard grey wall ahead of her. There was a man in front of that wall, and he was gesticulating like a fly caught in a web, but what he was gesturing about she did not know. Alice just sat there, her back straight as a skyscraper, motionless and grey in her neat suit, at the end of the long grey table with men sat around her.

Suddenly a hand reached around her mouth. She squealed too late as it clamped around her face. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe! Alice gasped through her nose, clattering against the table as she was hoisted into the air by the burly arms behind her. The men around the table, older than her, gross and balding and badly shaven, jumped up, but not to help. They grabbed at her arms, her legs, her short bob-cut hair. She kicked out at one of them, Douglas, her advertising manager, but he merely laughed and slapped her face. She tried to bite the hand around her mouth but it didn't budge, the fingers just entered her and slithered around her teeth and gums as though she were visiting an overly aggressive dentist from Hell. Her eyes widened in terror as her colleague Michael grabbed her blouse, ripping it off and revealing her neat white bra underneath. The men cheered as they tore at her clothes, hungry paws wrenching and clenching at shoes, tights, underwear, whatever they could find. Alice's prim grey pencil skirt was swallowed into the whirling maelstrom of voracious monsters, then her jacket, her tights, her underwear, sucked away and leaving her neatly trimmed bush on display. HR manager Samuel ripped away her bra, exposing her swollen white breasts, nipples betraying her as they pointed painfully up at the ceiling. Leering eyes drank her in, and fingers preened and prodded her every inch. If Alice's mouth hadn't been so tightly shut she would have loudly gasped as fingers entered her. They were like the hands of blind people wishing to describe a face. Tongues followed and writhed around her nipples, her toes, her legs. She felt wet, her face reddening at the quivering pleasure, her mind sickening at the idea! Chains materialised, clamping around her ankles, pulling her arms behind her back, a gag appeared in her mouth, a collar around her neck. She found herself standing on the table, exposed and nude and hot, a sign hung below her breasts. She dripped with sweat and humiliation as arms were raised to bid on her. This was an auction! She was being sold off, to Morocco, to Tokyo, she would be in a harem if she was lucky, a brothel if she wasn't, a piece of meat to be used and discarded, a nothing a slave a...

"Alice!" Alice jolted. She was still sitting up straight at the end of the table, still in her prim grey business-suit, her bob-cut hair untoussled and her colleagues still seated. Someone had said her name. She thought it was Douglas but she couldn't be sure. She looked at him, his little eyes focussed on her face, like a dog's staring at a squirrel in a tree. She moved for the first time in what felt like a millennia, nodding her head with a furtive embarrassed,

"Yes?"

"What are your thoughts on the company's advertising plans for the next quarter?" Douglas asked, with a slight patronising smirk on his mouth, as if he could see her mind. Alice blushed a little at being caught out like this, but she knew the company's advertising plans for the next quarter. She had opinions on them.

"I think we need to focus more on the social media side of things. It's easy to rely on TV advertising like we always have but there's a younger demographic we're missing out on who don't watch TV." Michael and Derek nodded knowingly in agreement. Alice gave herself a mental high five for sounding like she had been listening. Douglas relented,

"I think you're right. We'll set aside some of the budget to building our social media team. John and Brad have said they're keen to expand the department." Alice was the youngest person in the room. At age 26 she had done well to get into it, with everyone else in their late 40s or older. She had been brought in condescendingly, as a younger woman in her 20s who was understood to be culturally "with it". She knew this, but she wasn't going to say no to the opportunity. In any case Alice did bring something to the table. She had never claimed to be in tune with "youth culture" but she certainly knew more about the internet than the men who still remembered where they were when the Berlin Wall fell.

"Older generations trust the brand," she said, "but younger people see a lot of competition. We need to see our adverts appearing outside of just Facebook and Twitter. We need to buy more advertising spaces on niche sites, on maybe even open accounts. People respond well to companies responding to the news of the day. Stuff like that." The older men sagely nodded. They didn't understand how this all worked but they knew a young attractive woman was saying it, and that was all the proof they needed.

"It's good you've given this a lot of thought Alice thank you." Douglas smiled. He turned to Michael, "Michael are you happy to lead this new campaign?" Michael grinned and replied,

"Yes I think I can take this on. Focus on more websites and advertising space, very good." It took a second for Alice to realise what was happening. These were her ideas!

"Douglas," she found herself saying to her surprise, "I'm happy to take on this campaign. As you said I've given it a lot of thought." Douglas nodded at her appreciably like an owner would their dog when learning a new trick,

"That's great to hear Alice but I think we want someone who's been with the company for a while to steer this one. Don't worry though we'll certainly keep you in mind in the future." Alice smiled, nodding, and quietly imagined Douglas and Michael being throttled,

"Of course," she simply said. Inside she fumed.

The meeting was ended, and Alice returned to her general duties. She was a sales coordinator for the dental hygiene company Great White Smile. It was the first job she got fresh out of school at 18, and here she still was, eight years later and still being treated as the fresh young face. She was certainly one of the only young women at the company. There was Sharon the older secretary, and Grace the admin team leader, but everyone was either old or a man. Alice returned to her station, cringing with humiliation at her wondering mind at the meeting.

She was still wet, although luckily her tights and underwear hid this fact. She considered going to the bathroom to "fix" the problem but she couldn't imagine anything more sad and pathetic. Like a neutered spaniel humping a chew-toy. No thanks, she wasn't going to stoop that low, not at work.

2

She hadn't always been like this. She had always been fairly vanilla. She had been brought up in a quiet little town on the east coast, safe, quiet, uncontroversial. She had played around with local boys as a teenager, discovering things about them and about herself, but nothing dramatic. She had lost her virginity at 17 to a High School jock. He was nice and sweet, and was very easy on the eyes, but when time came for them to be together, she couldn't do it. She felt trapped. So when she left the little town, she went to New York, hoping to become someone.

No such luck. She couldn't afford college or Manhattan real estate. She hung out with college students and took night classes to keep up, but she never felt truly connected. She wasn't rich enough. She had considered becoming an actress and had originally got the job at Great White Smile to fund her dramatic works. But as the college students went on to become actors on the stage, and later on in TV and even one in film, she was left behind. It wasn't that she didn't have the talent, she did! It was when her director tried to feel her up, not for the first time, that she just couldn't do it anymore. She felt like she was selling herself, and though she wasn't college educated she was feminist enough to know these guys couldn't pull that crap with her. She got the reputation of being difficult, offered dried up, and she was left marooned in Great White Smile, friends with awkward grimaces leaving her behind as they accepted the ass-grabbing and nipple-pinching to succeed at the game. She regretted not going for it, of course, but she could never get past that humiliation.

So she quietly kept working, never really asserting herself, just vanishing into the background of this sad little company on the edge of New York State. Aspirations vanished, boyfriends vanished, excitement vanished. Just her and sales.

Then one day, about three months before, she had said fuck it, and gone to a bar to get screwed. She spent the night mostly bored, sitting at the bar with a cocktail, the music too loud and the sweating flirting guys too gross. Then he had walked in.

His name was Gabriel (pronounced GAB -riel). He was French, with sweet olive skin and smooth black hair. He was travelling the world, at least that's what he said, and he had just finished his soiree in New York. They caught each other's eyes at the bar, and she couldn't help but breathe in his leather jacket, his light, charming cologne and the mysterious handcuff tattoo on his neck. When she looked back, she could barely remember what was said that night. Only his aura, like a strange pheromone, existed in her mind. When he ordered her a drink he had briefly brushed her hand and she enjoyed the touch. It had been too long.

He stayed the night, and they did not sleep. In the early hours of the morning she caressed his neck and asked him about his strange handcuff tattoo. Was it a prison thing? Political? He tickled her between her thighs as he candidly responded, "It's a BDSM thing."

"Oh?" she smiled as his fingers played with her.

"I like it when women are handcuffed," he continued, "when they're restrained. I feel powerful knowing that they are totally in my protection." Alice fluttered at the thought. She wasn't innocent, she knew all about bondage, although she had never actually partaken in the forbidden fruit. None of her previous encounters had never been so interesting. For the first time she imagined herself handcuffed, maybe in a police station? She had just been arrested. For a terrible crime of course. He's the cop. He's restraining her, and as he does so he reaches under her waistband and enters her. She writhes in her helplessness. Even post-coitus Alice started feeling hot again. She breathed,

"Do you have handcuffs on you?"

"Of course."

"Could we...I mean...could we do something now?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"Sure."

Gabriel got out of bed, his slim nude form silhouetted in the early morning light. Alice bathed herself in fantasy, now Andromeda on the sea, chained naked to the rocks, and Perseus, olive-skinned, black-haired, running his fingers across her shackled wrists. Alice giggled, and Gabriel looked at her with a soft, hypnotic smile. When he returned with the clinking of the handcuffs, Alice splayed her nudity out for him on the bed; susceptible, permissible, controllable.

He did not say a word. He lay on top of her, then reached behind her back, lifting her up effortlessly like a father would a child. She bit her lower lip when she saw his long organ was rock-solid again. Alice felt the cold metal of the handcuffs click around her wrists, keeping her arms in place behind her. She shivered delightedly. He kissed her gently on the lips, then with some noticeable assertion, directed her head downwards. Alice obeyed, enjoying the intense feeling of power he had over her. He rose, standing at the end of the bed. Kneeling, she began to suck.

As her lips and tongue played with him, he pulled her hair. She desperately wanted to play with herself, but her hands wriggled and writhed in place. His other hand reached around her neck, feeling like a collar as he very lightly squeezed. She sucked harder and faster, tasting the stickiness of his cum around the penis as she rhythmed back and forth. He writhed more and more, and despite her constraints Alice realised that she was the one in control. They sweated and gesticulated together, becoming one as he came inside her. She felt the hot sticky stream spray into her gullet, and as he exited her she swallowed, almost instinctively.

She looked up at him smiling a small idiotic smile, and he grinned back, stroking her hair. She swayed her head around like a puppy wanting its ears scratched as he caressed her head. He lowered himself back down on top of her, his hands running over her swollen nipples and sweating gut. Again he silently directed her, moving her up against the pillows so he could place himself between her legs. His tongue entered her and she gasped.

She wanted to cry as he found her clit. Once again she was weak, powerless, and he had command over every inch of her. She squealed as he lapped and sucked, bringing her to the edge of excruciating pleasure. Tears streamed down her face as she felt herself rising, higher and higher in this moment. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. All that existed was her and him and he was inside her and he had control and...

It stopped. She looked down in horror at him. He had pulled himself away. Her response was almost violent. She pressed her legs together, trying to rub herself, to eek out the moment she so desperately craved. She was like an animal, in total abandonment, but it was no use. Her hands were bound. She looked at him in bewilderment but he simply smiled his sweet boyish smile,

"That is control. You must remember that only my needs matter. Understand."

She was crying now, but despite herself, she nodded whispering, "Yes, I understand."

"Good girl. Now it is 6'o'clock. You will make me breakfast."

Alice was astonished. For the first time that night she looked at him like he was insane. How could he speak to her like that? Once again however, her lips betrayed her, and she replied softy,

"Yes. I just need to use the bathroom, can you release my hands now please?"

He grinned that same evil grin, "No. Not yet. You may use the bathroom though."

Alice reddened in humiliation at being given permission to use her own bathroom. With as much dignity as she could hope to convey in her situation, she walked naked to her bathroom with her hands still handcuffed.

She looked at herself in the mirror, saw her hair completely tousled and dry semen coated around her mouth. She was shocked at herself. She had never let anyone cum inside her mouth. She had never done anything like this before. She wished she could wash her face, but she could only awkwardly wash her hands with her back turned to the faucet. Humiliated, she returned to the bedroom.

He was already fully dressed and fixing on his leather jacket. She stood at the bedroom doorway, gazing curiously at him. He looked at her and smiled again, and all her concerns were washed away. She repeated,

"Can you release my hands now please?"

"No. You haven't made breakfast yet."

Alice's eyes widened, "But I'm naked, and I can't move my hands! There are no curtains in the kitchen and someone might see...!"

"You will make me breakfast as you are," he assured her, "If you don't, I will leave without unhandcuffing you."

So that morning, against everything she ever thought she knew about herself, Alice made breakfast for this magnetic Adonis, nude with her hands behind her back. It was difficult and awkward, but luckily most of the actual "cooking" was automated: making toast, poaching eggs in the microwave, brewing coffee on the stove. Every now and then she furtively looked out the window, terrified that someone would be staring, but she didn't see anyone.

Gabriel came in and obviously enjoyed the sight of her fumbling around. She thought she had a thousand complaints to make against him, but instead she apologised that she didn't have much other than toast and eggs. She couldn't understand why she submitted to him so easily. It wasn't like he had hypnotised her or anything. It just seemed...right...to cater to this perfect stranger's every whim. She wondered if he was like this with every woman.

He quietly ate breakfast and she stood to attention watching him. She felt awkward, silly, like a child that had just thrown a stupid tantrum. Once he finished breakfast he finally removed her handcuffs and told her she could get dressed.

When she returned he was already at the door.

"You're leaving?" She asked pathetically. He looked back at her sheepishly,

"Yes. I have a lot of travelling to do."

"But I thought, after all that, you'd maybe want to stick around a little!" Alice managed not to add, "With me." He smiled,

"That's very kind but I can't stay. I'm sorry."

"How will I reach you?!"

"You won't. I don't keep in touch."

"But you must have a phone number, an email! Something!"

"I'm sorry."

Alice couldn't believe what she was hearing. After that incredible night. A night where neither of them had slept a wink. A night where she had been brought to the edge of everything! Over just like that?

Alice looked despondent, but otherwise composed herself. Realising that this was her last chance, she blurted out,

"How did you do that? Control me like that? I've never done any of those things for anyone else before!"

Gabriel reached behind and pulled her closer to him. Kissing her on the lips, he whispered,

"I gave you exactly what you wanted."

3

Alice got on with work despite her dampness, and tried to put the thoughts of him out of her mind. She kept telling herself to focus on work, but his silhouette in the bedroom mesmerised her. When she touched herself she thought of him. He was in her dreams. In her every second.

Apparently this was the only place he existed however, because she couldn't find anywhere. She didn't know his surname and there were a lot of French Gabriels. She had never come across someone with no internet presence before. No social media accounts, no company website photos. She knew so little about him and this only made the longing worse. Was Gabriel even his real name? It had seemed genuine at the time, but now she wondered. He was a ghost. The scent of cologne in her bedroom the only proof that he had ever existed. She despaired when she couldn't smell it anymore. How could a man enter her life like this and change it forever in one night?

She hadn't told anyone at work about it of course. She couldn't exactly speak to Sharon and Grace about her sexual adventures, and she didn't have any real girl friends to gossip with. There were all in New York, and she had ghosted them herself years before. She couldn't speak to her mother about it, what the hell would she say? Hi Mom I met this amazing guy he showed me I'm secretly a submissive that likes to swallow cum on command. Alice felt embarrassed about the whole thing, but she couldn't move past this epiphany. Those handcuffs...

In the process of her investigations she had started searching BDSM sites, wondering if he would appear in any of them. No such luck of course, but her eyes lingered on the images of women collared, shackled, kneeling, crawling. Alice had never been a lesbian but she thrilled at seeing these women. She realised that if Gabriel commanded her to fuck any of them she would do it without hesitation. She saw herself in his harem. He was cloaked in gold and crimson with a cream-white turban, she was nude, shaven, with gold braces encasing her wrists. She was holding a goblet for him with one hand, and playing with the pussy of a concubine with the other. Every night she would be defiled, defaced, degraded. and she would give anything for him. Sitting there in her cubicle, in her grey pencil skirt filling out spreadsheets, Alice's loins flared at with unchained abandon.