Slavery 2050 Pt. 03: The Offer

"Machine slaves, switch off your machines!"

Beside me, 2F stumbled on his ankle chains. He was new to all this but had eight more years minimum to get it right.

"All slave you face the centre aisle!"

"Stand to attention, slaves!"

The last order was perfect English and perfect sense as our Owner was visiting after ten hard years. Two usually surly and sadistic Chinese overseers opposite grinned and covered their ears as 10000 wrist chains clattered and grated in unison. Both overseers, clutching leaded whips and HV cattle prods, had huge muscular thighs beneath their uniform grey tights. They were clearly made to work out in a gym so they could inflict that much more pain and work us that much harder. To give them credit, just thinking about those thighs makes me work harder, and my now very exposed and vulnerable plums retracted upwards just thinking of the pain I'd be feeling during Lady Noor's inevitable double speed.

Far off doors opened. Good to know again that Lady Noor's royal ears with the swaying diamond earrings aren't subjected to that racket. Apart from the hum of a distant generator or compressor, the factory was strangely quiet, and I could hear what sounded like a whole army of heels approaching the centre aisle carpet. I stiffened my back and held my breath. All the slaves I could see opposite had the same nervous expressions. Ankles three feet apart. Leg chains neatly pushed behind. Eyes front and fixed ahead. Don't even blink when those golden heels are within earshot. Hips forward. Hands on back of head. Wrist chains dangling freely and not caught and likely to slide noisily off my shoulder. Lot to remember when an Upper visits. Anything to avoid being noticed by Lady Noor who was now seconds away. Diagonally across from me stood Miss Taylor-Joyce, our well-connected EViva PR eye candy, looking even more photogenic today in a royal blue one piece. She curtsied deeply revealing well-toned quads whilst the two Chinese overseers snapped to attention and saluted. And there she was, passing less than four feet in front of me, Lady Noor. I could smell the Upper Class arrogance as her smug confident face passed by. It was the same long hazel black hair and glowing skin, but her cheeks were heavier. Nice blue diamond earrings today, Ma'am. I risked severe punishment by lowering my eyes fractionally to glimpse an amazing and stunningly expensive white mid-thigh backless vicuna wool dress. The breasts were still shapely, and fortunately, or unfortunately perhaps for exposed testicles and backs within viewing distance, had retained that painful head-turning pertness from her last visit a decade before.

A sob came from 2F behind. He was terrified.

Two young Chinese-looking assistants in white one pieces followed, and my heart sank as I recognised one as the merciless Miss Li and her steel whip from yesterday. Next came Lady Noor's personal protection team consisting of three heavily armed Royal Marines, two sergeants and a warrant officer. The senior soldier was truly terrifying, a real bonecrusher, and 2F let out a whimper. I could almost hear his scrotum shrinking in fear. Lance Overseer Lou, the older of the two Chinese nutcrackers, smiled again, trying to attract Bonecrusher's attention whilst Miss Taylor-Joyce took a distinct shine to one of the others.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant. Welcome to Slave Labour Facility BAe3."

Her breasts appeared to grow two bra sizes as she thrust her chest in the soldier's direction. Well, I'm available, Miss Taylor-Joyce, Ma'am. Dinner for two by my machine after midnight? Her breasts and massive smile followed the younger soldier but turned into a scowl as her eyes met mine and looked down with obvious displeasure at my lesser physique and swollen and very unmilitary-looking testicles. I guess that's a no then, Ma'am.

No reaction from Bonecrusher or his two colleagues, just eyes from fixed on their VVIP.

It was never ending. No wonder there was a whole fleet of helicopters. I thought fuel was being rationed out there. In the relative quiet, I could hear the pigeons scampering and cooing overhead. They'd settled back at home after being so rudely interrupted and were probably wondering why the rows of skinny humans weren't dancing about as usual. A further group of maybe thirty white one pieces, a mix of Chinese and European, tagged along behind, perfectly in step, three abreast. Pun very much intended. Holy shit! The pertest breasts were now gliding past two feet from my eyes, within touching distance. I had to force my eyes down as I really thought I might ejaculate right there. The group were literally suited and booted with the shiniest matching brown boots I'd ever seen. Some conscript chained in a basement probably gets to polish those boots daily but likely never gets to see them walking. All wore a pin on their right breast with Lady Noor's coat of arms similar to the one tattooed on our right chest. These were just personal assistants or gofers, albeit young stunners every one, but all carried matching whips. Wouldn't want you missing out on the action later, ladies.

The inevitable began. Miss Taylor-Joyce was ready and her cut glass accent spat out the expected order.

"Eyes front, machine slaves!"

Us well-trained and disciplined slaves might have remained rigidly at attention whilst Lady Noor passed by, but that array of one pieces following behind was too cruel, especially for the teenage conscripts with hormones bouncing off the roof. We were warned about this, and the nervous glances from PR ladies, Miss Taylor-Joyce in particular, started as heads turned.

"I said eyes front, slave!"

Miss Taylor-Joyce's voice went up an octave as her whip caught a younger slave at 35S. To be fair to her, his head had drifted at least forty-five degrees to the left whilst his penis had travelled the full ninety upwards. I think that'll be airbrushed out of your video, Ma'am. He crumpled in pain, but at least he then straightened and snapped his head back into position. His eyes were now fixed on the back of 34S's head. Good lad!

The silence was broken by further shouts from PR ladies and overseers then a whip crack from elsewhere then another and another. From another row, probably 33, came that dreadful but familiar splat of toecap against shiny scrotum and grunt of pain.

"Eyes front, machine slave!"

Miss Taylor-Joyce, much photographed daughter of the T-Gyms CEO, was used to getting what she wanted and still narked at the rare rebuff. She decided another teenage slave three machines back in 35S was enjoying the show too much and delivered a shapely but powerful knee up into his balls. He too straightened up as did the slaves behind him. I could hear nutcracker's steel heels behind me and fully expected to see her toecap appearing between my spread legs, but I was spared this time. My erection was at 45 degrees, but I could see raging erections opposite from some of the younger conscripts. Miss Taylor-Joyce, aware that the occasion was being filmed, was clearly outraged at all her good work being undone, and at least six machine slaves in 35S had their fun for the day well and truly squashed. Ouch! To my credit and that of all the slaves I could see in 35S, we were now fully at attention, eyes front, as the second half of the group strode by. I must admit, that will look bloody impressive on video. Were the breasts as pert or the matching boots as shiny as the first group? I was too afraid of nutcracker to dare look down. In the very last row to pass, a younger brunette with a distinctive button nose caught my eye. Her lips were there to be adored and turned up slightly in the split second she was in my eye line. I started to wonder why such a young girl, maybe eighteen, was subjected to a place like this before I remembered I was here at eighteen too. Being in an Upper's inner entourage at eighteen meant she had the world at her feet. Good for her. When I was her age, all I had at my feet where these damn welded shackles which are still here eleven years later. I'll keep a look out for button girl when she's part of Lady Noor's inspection later. The cycle of pain repeated upstream with numerous whip cracks and several loud grunts of testicle pain.

"Eyes front, cunt!"

Lady Noor was clearly out of earshot for such language from an unseen male overseer to happen. I then heard the offender being thrown against his machine. The mesh safety guard shook and components tumbled to the ground. The predictable pain followed. The sickening crack of rib cartilage and three winded groans as he was punched in the solar plexus and now gasping for air.

"On your feet, pathetic fuck!"

Button girl would've seen all that, and for what little dignity I have left, I felt relieved it wasn't me and nutcracker giving her a similar display. These suited and booted stunners will likely end up deaf. Every time they march through a factory, they're treated to an orchestra of whips, punches and shouts.

Finally, last but very least, came three slaves carrying various boxes of no doubt food and gifts. Uppers treat their high performing staff generously I've noticed. I should consider myself honoured that Lady Noor even spoke to me in 2053, but all she gifted me that day was an extravagant silky knee in the balls. These three slaves were well toned and nourished with an all over tan. Funny how such slaves never end up chained in factories, but they must be worked long and hard being attached to an Upper 24/7.

"Silence, slave!"

Lance Overseer Lou had had enough of 2F's whimpering. I heard his sobs change to that horrible abdominal grunt as nutcracker thrust her knee into his balls. I must admit that always stops that yearning feeling. I felt for him. Not only was he terrified of an Upper inspection as was every slave there and quite a few overseers, he too had witnessed the blatant flirting from Miss Taylor-Joyce, who was probably only one or two years older than him, and then been subjected to that flood of pheromones walking past no male on Earth could resist. The primeval instinct to chase after the female species soon becomes the grim realisation you're in welded chains, surrounded by overseers like nutcracker who put Lady Noor's Spending Needs far ahead of human biology and enforce their point with a steel toecap. It took me about five years of pining to block out all the daytime flirting and then the PR ladies' evening jaunts with the male overseers and soldiers, male and female overseers and any other combination. No prizes for guessing who's not invited to play. How are we expected to concentrate on Lady Noor's Spending Needs whilst we can all clearly see a naked PR lady leaning over a desk being hammered from behind by a muscular male overseer night after fucking night? But you accept it, as painful as it is.

"Chin up, conscript slave!"

My turn! She poked the sharp tip of her cattle prod, not powered thankfully, under my chin and stood squarely in front of me. If she noticed my erection, I or rather my balls would be in for one of her alternative biology lessons. Instead, she just did the iron stare that these Chinese overseers love to do before inflicting pain. I had to show her some respect and grovelling quick to avoid having the same treatment as 2F who was now wheezing behind in his attempt to remain at attention having had his balls pummelled into his pelvis. He'll learn.

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

Her half grin showed satisfaction as she looked down and poked my penis with the handle of her whip.

"Good discipline, conscript. No looking."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

I assumed she meant the gofers. She didn't know about my sneaky glances, and the lack of a full erection was probably due to eleven years of ProCarb® and toecaps more than my good discipline. She came in closer and prodded my chin again. I could smell chilli on her breath.

"Big day, slave." She looked towards the viewing area. "In a few moments, Lady Noor will be sat up there watching you work."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You will be worked hard this motivational visit." She looked down again at my penis with a frown. "Very hard. Work well! Serve your country and your Owner, conscript slave!"

"Yes Ma'am."

She knew I was well and truly broken in, but she still hovered dangerously close to me and more importantly my dangling testicles just in case I needed any reminders. I was thinking we should be grateful for the few minutes break, and I realised how tired I was.

"Chin up, slave!"

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

I was wide awake now. The wait was dragging on. Lady Noor and entourage had passed ten minutes ago. Overseers and PR ladies now sat around awkwardly, glancing towards Lady Noor's viewing area, waiting for her order to return to work. Miss Taylor-Joyce was still on erection watch, but her work was done. As well as the pigeons having their fun, I could hear footsteps, chit chat and polite laughter from the viewing area, but with nutcracker so close, I had the sense to keep eyes front.

"Work, machine slaves!"

Good afternoon to you too, Lady Noor, Ma'am. The rare silence soon became the familiar roar of machines and overseers' shouts and whips.

"Machine 2F, faster, conscript slave!"

Nutcracker had clearly taken exception to 2F's lack of respect or more likely his huge erection. Her whip ripped into his flesh with a splat causing a shriek of pain. He was still young and a fast worker, and I was now struggling to keep up.

Lady Noor was sat up in her viewing area. A Nordic blonde member of the white-suited head turners bent respectfully to light Lady Noor's cigar, no doubt a €$4700 Gurkha Black Dragon we see on her Spending Needs. Her legs were crossed exposing well over half the length of her thighs, still tailored silk hand-sewn by the same full-time slave chained for decades below her Villa Seri Perdana, but the shapely legs were thicker and less graceful. But so what? Lady Noor's aged just as I have in eleven years.

To her left, erect and motionless, stood the ponytailed Miss Li, looking far from impressed. Her white one piece showed off a tight athletic body and highly-toned thighs. Strapped to her left thigh was a bright yellow electroshock weapon, and her right hand held that coiled red whip with a steel tip. Miss Li was clearly a trained bodyguard in her own right, a walking pain machine. Maybe 2F was right to be so scared. As I steal another glimpse, which was no mean feat with nutcracker now sat just behind me, the light reflects off a chunky solid gold ankle bracelet. Lady Noor leans back on that soft leather, and as the tip of the cigar glows and the light catches a blue diamond earring, a slight double chin is evident. That's the sign of the Upper good life alright.

Li Teng Shiu

PA (London) to Tan Sri Lady Noor

Tuesday 13 August 2063

2.05pm

Chalk with cheese, as you British would say. This morning was Abbey Steelworks. Highly efficient workers but same as our glorious life slaves in People's Republic of Chong Gua. All male overseers and staffs focuses slaves' minds fully on achievement of Lady Noor's Spending Needs. We left satisfied after only twenty minutes. Targets met. Educational punishments scheduled for holo viewing 16 August at 2100 Malaysiana time.

The structure of BAe3 is not efficient. To satisfy customers, the facility is accessible to visitors, which brings slaves in contact with members of the public, including females. Moreover, the use and attrition of Class 1 male resource for front line military campaigns affects overseer selection. At least 60% of BAe3's overseers are female. Totally unacceptable.

We were greeted by a smiling Mrs Kyla Parkes from BAe3 Public Relations Team. She curtsied correctly, but I made a note that her breasts outline was visible and her skirt too short for close proximity to slaves. I quickly calculated that every inch off her skirt accounted for a 3% loss in Lady Noor's Spending Needs. I was shocked to see wandering eyes and erect penises in the presence of an Upper. Both are unheard of in the People's Republic thanks to conditioning and diet.

As Lady Noor said to Mrs Parkes, many slaves will remember this day.

Alpha 375698/2052 Conscript (Hard Labour Level 2)

Tuesday 13 August 20

2.10pm

"Machine slaves, rows 33 to 40!" Miss Li barked into the microphone "Stop work!"

Now what was happening?

"Face forward at attention!" This was a rare order normally only for announcements or motivational videos. I stood perfectly to attention looking at Lady Noor and feeling the beginnings of yet another erection.

"Stand by for an announcement from Tan Sri Lady Noor, slaves!"

Miss Li passed the microphone to Lady Noor and sat down.

"My machine slaves." The accent was stronger than I remembered. "I shall be walking past and inspecting every single one of you today."

She inhaled deeply on her cigar.

"Closely."

2F breathed heavily. He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

"To honour this occasion, I shall grant Royal freedom to twenty of my machine slaves."

Fuck! Yes, please, Ma'am. How do I apply? She let the news sink in and inhaled again.

"Remember, slaves, in these times of austerity, economic hardship and ongoing war, freedom is not to be taken lightly. It is no longer a right but a privilege for the lower classes."

She let that last point sink in and blew a perfect smoke ring. Two logistics slaves arrived and started to stack thirty-two more boxes by my machine. Thanks, boys. That'll make me look so fucking great when she walks past.

"Chained in here to one of my machines, you are removed from the pressures and economic hardships that those outside are now facing. Conscripts from the lower classes are being killed and maimed in battles to defend our oil and resources. Yet you are fed and sheltered, given medical care at my expense, slaves."

If I recall, Lady Noor recently possessed a chain of boutique hotels in Europe and America. I hope her guests aren't as lucky as us. Rise and shine and check out time at 4am. Continental breakfast of ProCarb®. Full day of activities provided. Our friendly staff will always be close by to help. You won't want to leave.

"Costs are rising. Which means my Spending Needs continue to rise. Think about that last point. Think long and hard, slaves."

Another deep puff of the cigar emphasised her last point. Quite chilling. For the rest of us, when inflation soars and costs go sky high, we cut back. Lady Noor just gets her staff to take over a business and then sentences a few hundred more slaves.

"Work hard, slaves. Work to impress me!"

She handed the microphone back to Miss Li who stood back up.

"When Lady Noor orders you back to work, you will double speed! One hour!"

Nutcracker was right. We will be worked hard. Fucking hell! One hour!

At that announcement I heard overseers' boots walking forward, and through the glass windows I saw office staff standing to make their way down to the factory floor.

"Machine slaves, rows 33 to 40!"

I saw a shapely PR lady engrossed in conversation with a male overseer in the restaurant. They both quickly finished their coffees and stood up to leave.

As we were told in rehearsals, Lady Noor gave the order.

"My machine slaves, double speed!"

Lady Noor clearly wanted to see us work. A one-piece wearing intern with pink hair and pink ankle boots shouted as her whip slashed into the slave at 35S 1F, New Boy opposite who'd looked so very young and keen to serve back Lady Noor in 2055 when that mystery Eurasian made her fateful one-time visit, eight, yes eight, years ago.

"Work faster!"

That intern wouldn't have even reached puberty when New Boy was chained. I catch the briefest glimpse of Lady Noor's shiny ankle bracelet before the first whip slices into my back. We're less than ten minutes into double speed when I'm horrified to see my first box almost empty. With no overseer nearby, I make the decision to bend and pick up another now. Lady Noor, concentrating on following a smoke ring, is now looking to her right at an older slave chained by the aisle in 1F 39S. His BLOCKAGE is already flashing, and a huge, even bigger than nutcracker, Chinese female overseer is already moving in. A few more minutes pass, and a logistics slave brings me even more boxes. Fuck! A slave somewhere behind screams. I gag at the horrific stench of burning flesh which tells me Lady Noor has ordered high-voltage cattle prods be used at full power. One hour of double speed is just doable for the younger guys unless you have a machine problem. The older slaves or those with technical problems face crippling beatings. I lift another box. That ankle bracelet still shines as a beacon of Lady Noor's overbearing presence.