It's a Man's World

CHAPTER ONE: CATHARSIS

Antonia LaCroix crossed her legs as she sat on the sofa. She did it out of modesty - she wasn't used to wearing pencil skirts this short - and also an attempt to stop the anxious bounce of her left knee.

She was nervous. She'd never done anything like this before, never gone out on a limb like this. The truth was, she was auditioning to be a house slave to one of Rust City's richest and most eligible bachelors.

Alexander Saint-Clair was the heir to the Saint-Clair fortune; a fortune made in the liquor and print business. They owned clothing retailers, real estate, breweries and distilleries, paper mills and printing presses - some of which were even used by the New York Times and the Boston Globe! The Saint-Clair name was a sign of respect and was held in high regard. It was an old name; they came from old money. At one time, they'd been the richest family in New England, now it was estimated they were number three or four.

Toni had read up on the family history after her house slave application had been accepted. How'd she'd found the ad had been a funny story. It wasn't the kind of thing that was advertised on Craigslist. No, her roommate Kelly had stumbled upon it after being given a business card by one of her sources.

Now, Toni called herself a feminist -- and a damned proud one at that -- but Kelly was militant. She was an investigative journalist who specialized in women's issues, in particular the sex industry. The source who passed her along the business card was one of Rust City's city councillors, who hinted it was relevant to former Mayor Caroline White's shock resignation. The card just stated:

The House of Saint-Clair

For the conscientious working woman

"Can you believe this Toni?" Kelly had said one night, after interviewing the councillor. "Women actually apply for this! To be a sex slave! It's not even poor women down on their luck, this sick fuck's slaves are means tested it makes me sick. Can you imagine hating your gender that much?"

"No... of course not." Toni had replied, ten minutes before finding the job ad itself through a hidden QR code on the business card. Toni was never usually impulsive, but she'd applied in less than ten minutes, and then spent the next three hours researching the Saint-Clair family to the nth degree. She'd known the name, but that was about it.

Now a week later she was sitting in the man's house, waiitng to interview for the position of sex slave. It was lunacy! She'd spent the entire drive over debating whether or not to go through with it, but she couldn't shake the feeling of joy she'd felt when she'd gotten the email to say her application had been accepted.

It was just nerves, that's all. Just nerves. The best she could do to relax was replaying the Saint-Clair family history over in her mind. Took her mind off the fact she was betraying everything she believed in.

August Saint-Clair had been a Scotsman, born August Sinclair. He and his French wife, Emilie, emigrated to the New World, settling in Apple Bay, Massachusetts. August became the landowner at Apple Bay's tavern; the Good Saint Mary. His first proper entry into the liquor business was selling rum shipped to him via old Navy contacts. The Good Saint Mary prospered, and August took to selling rum on the side. Soon he founded his own rum distillery, and bought another, as well as a share of a distillery on Barbados. New England Rum sold extremely well; going for about three shillings per gallon. Soon August Saint-Clair owned four distilleries; three in Massachusetts; one in Rhode Island.

In 1808; as the US prohibited the import of slaves from Africa the rum trade died down. Saint-Clair diversified, purchasing large tracks of land, as well as breweries and distilleries in Kentucky, Pennsylvania and Louisiana. However, August died in 1810, leaving the company to his son, Albert.

By 1840, Albert was a prominent figure in the liquor industry, and Saint-Clair Whiskey was a familiar name to most Americans. From their headquarters in New York, the Saint-Clair family consolidated their little empire. They played a minor role in the civil war, with the main branch of the family fighting on the side of the Union, while a smaller cadet-branch; the Ulfsons, fighting for the Confederacy -- and disowned for doing so.

And so it was for over a century, give or take. The family's fortunes stayed relatively on course, save a few exceptions -- two failed runs for governor in New York and Louisiana by overly-ambitious younger brothers, and the loss of the family heir -- Alexander's great uncle Sterling -- during the Second World War, fighting in the Pacific theater.

It was an open secret that the Saint-Clair's played a large role in underground liquor distribution during Prohibition, bootlegging, distilling their own liquor and importing the stuff from Canada. They were a major part of in New England and New York's liquor scene. Indeed, the Prohibition cemented their status in the liquor business, as it increased sales. They were richer than ever, but they kept their hands clean, laundering cash through the main legitimate businesses they ran. No case against them could stand up in court, but then again -- no case ever even reached a courtroom. The Saint-Clairs weren't secretive, so to speak, but they certainly kept themselves to themselves, they were an isolated lot; tucked away in the family mansion in upstate New York -- that is, save for Alexander Saint-Clair, who lived in Rust City of all places.

But anybody who was anybody knew who they were. They held quite a bit of sway over politics, and were family friends with the Roosevelts and Kennedys, and other great New England families. It was a little daunting, she hoped Alexander's slaves didn't have to meet the whole clan.

While most rich playboys surrounded themselves with Instagram models, Alexander Saint-Clair kept it low key. According to internet, he'd studied at Harvard, but that was all she knew about him. He had no public presence.

Toni sighed. Maybe this was a mistake. She'd been waiting in the parlor for an hour. It had taken her all of five minutes to be bored by the room's chic design and the Edward Hopper print that hung on the wall across from her. When one waits so long, doubt starts to creep in. She'd left home primed and ready for whatever awaited her in the audition, but now she felt less and less sure with each second that passed. She'd skipped work for this, she reminded herself. Told her boss she had a sore throat and a headache.

Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and sighed - it was a text from Kelly.

Hey bitch! Where'd you say you'd be today?

Toni sighed again and began answering. A lie, obviously. She squeaked in surprise when a woman cleared her throat.

"Ahem," the woman said. Toni hadn't heard her approach.

"Hello, sorry, I..." she said looking up. Her eyes widened. The woman was completely naked! Toni's jaw dropped. Every inch of this woman's supple, curvaceous figure was on display. She was gorgeous, absolutely stunning. She had shiny dark hair in a neat bob, framing a face that Toni thought only existed in commercials and advertisements. Luminous blue eyes, long lashes, heart shaped lips painted a vivid red; she was the epitome of old fashioned beauty.

Toni felt a burst of insecurity bubble in her stomach. She didn't look like that. What made it worse, was this gorgeous, beautiful, incredible woman had almost ten years on her -- she must have been in her late thirties! As for Toni? Well, at thirty she was little more than a walking cliche; she sported a side cut and hair dyed a fluorescent red. A proper feminist cut. She had a smattering of tattoos and pale, alabaster skin.

She kept herself fit -- gym four times a week -- but still she never felt happy with her body. Her thighs were too thick, her calves too short. Her breasts were small and rather pointy, with prominent pink nipples that seemed to have a confidence that she herself lacked about her body.

It wasn't that she was fat or anything, it was little things she didn't like. Her boobs; the way her shoulders were a little boxy and masculine; her ankles; the way her nose was slightly crooked or how she had a tiny little torso that sat atop tree trunk legs.

She'd had boyfriends call her beautiful, and she got the usual catcalling and harassment that comes with being a woman, but there was always a niggling little voice at the back of her mind. What if she wasn't? It really shouldn't matter either way - woman are worth more than just their appearance - but it did matter to her. Even after all these years fighting back against the system, against the patriarchy, and she still just wanted to be told she was pretty. It was all bullshit.

She was more than confident in other areas, mind you. She knew her strengths; she was good at her job and she'd excelled at university. She did so well that they'd even stopped talking about her haircut in the office.

To add insult to injury, the woman had the most enormous breasts Toni had ever seen. A pair of humongous tits so damned big they made porn stars like Angela White look flat chested. But somehow, despite being so big and so heavy, they jutted out from her chest like the perky prows of two mighty ships. Her nipples, erect and hardened by the room's air conditioning, were like two little pointers proudly guiding the way forth.

The woman smiled, revealing pristine, pearly-white teeth. "I assume you're Miss LaCroix?"

"That's me," Toni said, smiling nervously. "You're naked!" she blurted out.

"I am." The naked woman nodded. Toni averted her gaze from the woman's magnificent chest, only to find herself drawn to the neatly trimmed patch of triangular dark hair that graced the crest of the woman's vulva. She felt herself blushing.

Toni swallowed. "Is that the...ah... I guess, uniform?"

"I suppose you could say that," the woman chuckled. Toni looked up and laughed too, more from nerves than anything else. She noticed the leather collar that the woman wore.

"Right, right. Totally naked. Okay. Well except for a collar. That makes sense. And you just walk around like-" Toni's phone buzzed again. She quickly shoved it away, more embarrassment bleeding into her cheeks.

"Fuck! Sorry, about the phone..." she said, patting down her blouse when she was sure the phone was away. I was just um... passing the time."

"How long were you waiting?"

"Just..." Toni sighed. "An hour. It's fine! I understand Mr Saint-Clair is a busy man."

"Indeed. Well come with me then, darling," the naked woman said, before turning and walking off. "My name is Ms Paris. It's a pleasure to meet you!" She called over her shoulder. Toni found herself hypnotized by the woman's perfectly spherical buttocks as she strode down the hall in front of her.

"Yes, err... it's nice to meet you Ms Paris." She stammered awkwardly. "I was actually looking forward to meeting some of the... um... women who I'd be working alongside. Are there many of --"

Ms Paris waved her question away. "You'll have time to ask questions once we begin the formal interview darling!"

"Oh, you'll... be conducting the interview?"

"That's correct."

"Sorry, I was just expecting Mr Saint-Clair to..."

"Do you think Master Saint-Clair interviews all prospective women himself?"

"No of course not, how silly of me." Toni tried to laugh it off. "Of course you'll be be conducting the interview. W-will you be... ah... in the nude?"

"Of course,"

"Oh."

"Do you have a problem with that, Ms LaCroix?"

"No, no it's fine! Not a problem. Not a problem at all!" Toni gushed. "I'm completely cool with it, it's... in fact it's good. It's very good. Very good indeed. I'm glad a woman is doing the interview, because you know I --"

Ms Paris cleared her throat. "It's this way, Miss LaCroix."

"Lead the way then I guess." She standing up. Ms Paris stepped closer,

"In a moment darling. First tell me about this, it's the most remarkable color." Ms Paris said, idly curling a strand of Toni's hair around her finger.

"Oh my hair? Dyed. Yeah. Ah, I think it was called Red Robin...something like that." Toni replied shyly.

"It certainly stands out, and you'll need to stand out," Ms Paris stepped closer and brushed her fingers across the close cropped hair on the left side of Toni's head. Toni swallowed nervously. She feel one of the woman's breasts gently pressing against her, and could smell Ms Paris' perfume, sweet, floral and overwhelmingly feminine. It hung in the air like a waltz through a flowering field. Surprisingly, it made Toni feel somewhat nostalgic for a time she didn't recognize. Like... a romance in the one of those classic novels.

"I like this," Ms Paris said softly, continuing to admire Toni's hairstyle. Toni could feel the naked woman's breath on her ear. She shivered.

"The side cut? You like it? Really?" she asked.

"It's... an interesting choice." Ms Paris said smiling. "And they let you... keep it like this, at work?"

"Ha! The amount of money I make them, they don't get a say." Toni laughed. Ms Paris' smile widened.

"Excellent." She said. Her electric blue eyes locked onto Toni's own and sent goosebumps rippling the younger woman's skin. She'd never felt like this around another woman. But no woman she'd ever met before had the pure, unbridled sensuality, the carnal sexuality of Ms Paris.

"I...thankyou?" Toni said awkwardly.

"You're welcome. Such a pretty little thing," Ms Paris whispered, leaning in closer, pressing her chest onto Toni's arm. Toni giggled again. It felt like all she was doing was giggling. Was Ms Paris going to kiss her? Was this part of the audition?

"Thankyou, I...I-I'm not used to being called pretty," she said shyly, turning away from Ms Paris' gaze. "It's a bit... new to me."

"Well get used to it, darling." Ms Paris bit her lip. "Here, you'll be very much judged by your appearance. But don't worry. You present better than a number of girls we've seen."

"How many women... present...to you?"

"Oh, quite a few. Mostly looking for money -- we have to weed those women out. The women picked for the role are educated, sophisticated. They are expected to be a class above. Choice and agency are essential to true submission. Successful candidates are not doing this for the money, they feel a passion, a need for something different in their lives. "

Toni nodded. That was her down to a tee. She had a career people would kill for and more money than she knew what to do with. She had a loving family, a wonderful circle of friends - even an apartment in a part of the city she'd never dreamed she'd live.

Yet she still felt a longing for something. She couldn't explain it. No matter how many promotions she got, or how hard she worked or hours she spent laughing with her friends, she still felt unfulfilled.

Ms Paris pulled back and gestured for Toni to follow her. As she walked, her magnificent ass bouncing with each step. Toni was caught like a deer in headlights. They were in a historic mansion, there were paintings on every wall, the intricate detailing on the ceiling. But all she could look at was Ms Paris' ass.

"I wasn't sure what to wear..." she said, trying to distract herself. "The letter said "sexy", so went out and actually bought some lingerie specially for today. I never knew Victoria's Secret had such..."

Ms Paris stopped abruptly next to a heavy oak door, cutting Toni's train of thought. She smiled.

"Here we are, Miss LaCroix. After you."

"In here? Okay."

Toni pushed the door open and had to laugh in surprise. The room before her was every rich pervert's dream. It was modern and spacious, with floor to ceiling windows offering stunning views of Saint-Clair's forested estate. The left hand wall had two doors and in between hung a variety of whips and floggers and other sex toys, the right hand wall was a floor length mirror with a chic credenza sitting in front.

"This isn't an office at all! It's a fucking dungeon!" Toni exclaimed.

"You are aware of the job requirements, are you not?"

"No you're right." Toni said, chucking. "I don't know what I expected I..." she turned back to Ms Paris just as the woman stepped into the room after her, voluptuous chest bouncing freely. Toni gawped.

"Whoa. I'm sorry, I still can't quite get past the nudity..." She giggled. "It's a bit sexist isn't it? Women naked, men wearing clothes. I mean, I guess that's the whole point."

"Precisely, Miss LaCroix." Ms Paris said smiling. "What we offer is an escape from the stresses of modern life, the constant stream of information, all the choices to be made, being constantly connected to everything and everyone, the barrage of news. A subversive and stylised return to traditional gender roles. But it must be noted, not an unthinking adherence to the past -- simply a romanticised vision."

"It would be nice to get away." Toni said idly.

"Have you ever tried to do too much, Miss LaCroix?"

"Yes!" Toni sighed. "All the time."

"Now you have the opportunity to let that all go, unplug. To stop trying to be everything to everyone and empty your mind of your troubles."

Empty her mind. Toni chuckled to herself.

"I won't lie," she said. "I couldn't stop staring at your ass as we walked. I...I should apologize... that's really embarrassing." Toni broke herself out of the daze. She was staring at Ms Paris's chest again. "Sorry, I'm ogling. Still. I can't *stop* staring. Must be what it's like to be a man!"

She cackled at her own joke. Ms Paris simply smiled and directed Toni to sit at a chair in the center of the room. Then she moved to the corner and retrieved a camera on a tripod. She set it up facing Toni.

"The interview will be recorded. I hope you don't have an issue with that." Ms Paris said. Toni shook her head.

"Good."

Toni watched the woman diligently work and felt a sort of envy. Ms Paris had a self-assurance, even naked in front of a total stranger, that Toni had never had. She had a confidence; a poise. Despite wearing nothing but her birthday suit, she had a class that Toni had rarely encountered.

Toni thought back to the first time she had a crush on a woman. Professor Lilith Woodley -- her supervisor in grad school. She was a magnetic woman, she had charisma oozing out of her, like a female James Bond. She'd been a firebrand second-wave feminist, and was, frankly, the sexiest woman Toni had ever known. Not in the physically perfect way Ms Paris was intoxicating, but just such presence, such poise. Rust City's own Lioness.

She'd wear crisp white blouses, roll up her sleeves, and leave a few buttons undone so when she leaned over Toni's shoulder the fabric brushed the back of her neck. She had this pair of hawkish glasses that always said halfway down her nose and gave Toni's male classmates a withering icy stare, before slipping Toni a smile that took her breath away.

Of course, nothing had happened between Toni and her professor. Nothing outside her dreams, that is. But the enigmatic feminist had awakened something in Toni, something deep...

Ms Paris cleared her throat, knocking Toni out of yet another daydream.

"Hmm?" Toni said, looking up.

"I said, your details please Miss LaCroix" Ms Paris said, smiling a sickly-sweet smile.

"My details? It's all in the questionnaire I filled out."

Ms Paris sighed. "For the camera, darling."

"Oh! Oh of course," Toni exclaimed, adjusting herself in the chair and looking down the lense. She cleared her throat.

"My name is Antonia LaCroix. I'm 30 years old. I work in finance. Assistant Director, General Operations, Brax-Muller Consulting. I'm secretary of the Rust City Women's Business Society. Um...I was a business major in college. Minored in Gender Studies. I... well, I also have my master's in Human Relations Management. Those...that'd be the basics." Toni giggled nervously, glancing at Ms Paris to see how she was doing. She'd never been good at talking about herself.