Take Only as Directed Ch. 06

This story takes place in the year 2029. America is a very different place. New laws have abolished personal bankruptcies and debtors' prisons have been revived. Janie, our twentysomething heroine, was about to be sentenced to just such a prison when she was tricked into signing up for a pilot program that keeps her in a kind of chemical captivity. Medicine released within her body causes debilitating nausea and other symptoms every 48 hours, unless she is administered a rescue dose of another medicine. The rescue dose is delivered through the ejaculation of the man for whom she will be a personal domestic servant, a latter-day concubine. Janie's still in the Training Center, learning the art of being a high-class, government-sanctioned sex worker, as prospective masters look her over.

That's basically what you need to know, but read the earlier chapters if you want to know how Janie got to this point.

***

My blue interlude didn't last long. The effect of the drugs delivered through my anonymous paramour's semen, seeping through my vaginal walls, suffused my whole being with a kind of warmth. After a little moping about his caddishness, I couldn't stop smiling.

The guy may have been a real dick, but at least that dick was loaded up with something special for lil' ol' me.

I was rapidly realizing these liaisons were not about affection. They were about sheer, unbridled lust. And I was the lustee. Or, one of several candidates for that distinction.

Once our little group got through the initial few days of adjustment, we were allowed a little more freedom to roam around within the Training Center. There was a breakfast area where we could fix our own meals. That became a favorite gathering-place.

That's where I learned, from LaToya, the tall African-American, that Lisa, the attorney with a predilection for S&M, had been snapped up by a master with similar interests. LaToya herself had had a tryst with a professional basketball player, but nothing had come of it. She was hopeful he'd return and claim her, but she wasn't losing sleep over it.

Wei Mi, a willowy Chinese-American woman with a gorgeous alabaster complexion, was likewise scooped up by Mr. Goldchains and had an experience similar to mine. He turned her over his knee, spanked her, fucked her in the ass, then dropped her as rudely as he dropped me. Still window-shopping, I guess (or orifice-shopping, as the case may be).

My next "interview" was a tandem experience involving Wei Mi. Just as she and I were leaving a sex-toys demonstration, Ms. Lockhart showed up and took us aside. "There you two are!" she said, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye. "I need to speak with you."

Whereupon she informed us there were two potential clients who wanted to speak with Wei Mi and myself together.

And why would that be, I wondered? – being pretty sure I knew the answer.

Ms. Lockhart chuckled. "Well, perhaps 'speak' is not the best word. These guys like girl-girl action. I figured you two are quick on the uptake and can make that happen for them. Am I wrong?"

Ms. Lockhart was standing between us as she said that. Reaching down, she gently caressed each of our butts. "They're looking to see you two rather soon. Too bad, because otherwise I'd take you aside myself and give you some private instruction."

She led the two of us to a bedroom where a couple of twenty-something men were waiting. They looked like bored rich kids with a little too much discretionary income – which is exactly what they were.

"Well helloooo, ladies!" said one, leering at us and giving us the once-over. "My name's Alex. This is my friend, Matt. Wow, you two are HOT!"

What a romantic.

"I can think of something even hotter," leered Matt.

"And what would that be, my good man?" asked Alex, in a way that made it clear he already knew the answer.

"Why, if these ladies would show us a little lezzie action!" (How subtle their approach.)

I walked over to Wei Mi, putting my arms around her and nuzzling her neck. Alex and Matt responded with catcalls. That gave me just enough cover to whisper in her ear, "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"No. I come from a very traditional family. I was actually a virgin when they brought me in here."

"Well, I haven't, either. But we need what these guys have to give us. I say, the show must go on. Capiche?"

Whereupon I turned and gave Wei Mi a huge, sloppy kiss right on the lips. I could feel her tense up at the touch, but almost immediately she loosened up. Evidently, she bought my logic. Necessity is the mother of Sapphic invention, it would seem.

I ran my index finger down her back and palmed her left butt-cheek, giving it a friendly squeeze. She did the same for my right posterior lobe. Seeing that, our appreciative audience responded with heavy breathing.

We continued to stand there, kissing and groping, until the thought occurred to me that one of us would have to initiate the next step, and it wasn't going to be my inexperienced partner. I reached down, picked up Wei Mi's diminutive body, and slung her over my right shoulder. Walking over to the king-sized bed, I dropped her down on her back. She bounced up in the air a few inches, and when she came back down, I pounced.

Reaching for her hands, I lifted them up over her head and pinned them to the bed with one hand. Then, I lay my much larger body atop hers, inserting one thigh in between her legs. I began to rock my body gently back and forth.

Wei Mi pushed back and squealed a little, in mock resistance. I knew from the eager way she was kissing me back that she was by no means unhappy, despite my having taken her by surprise. Or, maybe because of it.

I reached down and slipped a finger into her pussy. It came out dripping. Fast learner, this Wei Mi.

Slowly I moved down her neck, kissing and licking all the way. I paused to suck each of her small but very prominent erect nipples into my mouth, nibbling them gently. That got a deep moan out of her.

Moving down to her navel, I gave it a little swirly action, then descended to the dense, very black jungle of her pubic hair. I inhaled the rich aroma of vaginal juices, mixed with the faint, leftover bouquet of urine. Wei Mi spread her legs without any encouragement from me. Good, obedient girl. She wanted this.

In my brief muffdiving career, I've learned there's only one way to approach this task: by giving it your all. It's like eating watermelon. Sure, you can try to do it genteelly, nibbling delicately at the succulent flesh and keeping your chin dry. Or, you can dive right in, paying no heed to whatever sticky juices may coat your face.

The second method is by far the most fun.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed my whole face firmly into Wei Mi's pussy. She let out a gutteral moan that was quite uncharacteristic of her. Then, I began lap up and down her labia with my tongue.

In no time at all, my face was wet with her juices. A true ripe-melon feast. And she was moaning to beat the band.

After her orgasm, I rolled off her, and moments later, we changed places. Wei Mi slipped into my eat-at-the-Y role. At first, her licks were gentle and delicate, but then I reached down and pressed her face into my own garden of eatin'. In no time at all, the watermelon juice was running down her chin as well.

I came, hugging her face to me and waving my legs in he air, until she pulled away from my grip, so she could breathe. "Sorry, lover," I said to her. "I kinda lost track of myself there."

"I noticed," said she. "But I like it."

Off to one side, on a couple of chairs, sat our guys. Both had their pants around their ankles and were spanking the monkey. Guess we put on quite a show for them.

Looking at us looking at them, they stopped their stroking, stepped out of their by-now very low-riding pants, and walked over to the king-sized bed where we lay exhausted.

Matt made for me, and Alex for Wei Mi. Noticing Matt had gotten a bit soft on his brief trip across the room, I got up on my hands and knees and opened my mouth, cocking my head to one side. He got the message: open mouth, insert dick. (Not rocket science.) I sucked and slurped. Beside me, Wei Mi, who was mirroring my actions, was doing much the same.

We were there with Matt and Alex for the next hour. Missionary fucking, doggie-style fucking, side-by-side fucking, and a few variations of those traditional themes. These two weren't especially adept at it, but what they lacked in finesse, they made up for in sheer exuberance.

It's every man's fantasy: watch a couple chicks make love, then plant your pole in them to claim the territory. Matt and Alex did so several times, switching off with us in tag-team fashion. One would slap the other on the back or rump, calling out "Tag!" The slappee would then roll off whichever one of us he was on, yielding up our furrow for the other to plow.

As we lay around afterwards, sated and happy, we listened to Matt and Alex talk about their rich-kid, party-hardy lives. Was there a place for us in those lives?

Evidently not. I don't think it was anything they disliked about us, necessarily. It was just that they knew there were greener pastures elsewhere in the training facility, and they wanted to try a few more of our fellow inmates out first, to see which ones they liked best.

We never did get a callback from them. For me, that didn't matter, because before 24 hours had passed, I was on a private jet heading off to the place that was to be my new home. Here's how it happened...

It surprised me, the next morning, when one of the staffers came by to ask me to come with her to a small room that had only a number on the door. Following her inside, I saw that the room was essentially a walk-in clothing closet. Selecting a silk bathrobe, she told me to put it on. "Don't worry about the all-nudity policy," she said. We have a client who wants to speak with you. He says he's already seen you naked over the camera system, and you meet with his approval. He'd find it easier to have an undistracted conversation, he says, if you've got something on."

Well, this seemed a novelty to me. She brought me down to a conference room and had me take a seat at the conference table. The room actually had a window to the outside. I realized that, in the two weeks I'd lived at the Training Center, this was the first time I'd had a look at the outside world.

An interior door opened, and a well-dressed man in his mid-40s came in. "Hi, I'm Janie," said I, trying to sound cheery.

"Yes, I know," he said, in an elegant English accent. "You may call me Mr. Gilpin. Before you get the wrong impression, let me tell you I have been sent here by my employer, who has decided he has need of the services of one of the participants in this (how shall we call it?) government program." He pronounced the word "program" in an ironic way, bordering on distasteful.

"I am the manager of his household, a role more commonly referred to in earlier days as his butler. He has given me some specifications, and instructed me to extend an invitation to a suitable young woman to join our household staff on a trial basis. I have decided that you are to be that person."

Well, this was sure a switch from Mr. Goldchains. And how, I wondered, had Mr. Gilpin – who, evidently, had the title "procurer" in his job description – determined I was the choice?

Perhaps he could see the curiosity in my eyes, because he went on: "Yes, I'm sure you're wondering how I made my choice, and especially how I could do so on behalf of another man. My employer actually has some things he would like for you to do, beyond the intimate personal services for which you have recently been trained. And so, I have examined your resumé from your prior employment, and found it a good match for the 'Gal Friday' responsibilities my employer has in mind. I have been observing your interactions with your neighbors here in this facility, and have been impressed with your general tendencies towards civility and kindness. As the manager of the household, such traits are important to me. I know they are to the other staff as well. While my employer is very interested in the physical solace you may provide him during lonely nights, he is not eager to have the rest of the staff, nor the world at large, be constantly reminded of your history in this program. So, I will ask you, please, not to speak of it to anyone other than him or myself."

"Curiouser and curiouser," as Alice would say. Here I was, all ready to drop to my knees and drain this guy's testicles, but it turns out he's not Da Man at all. Just an emissary.

And a pretty good-looking one, at that.

"Can you tell me, Mr. Gilpin, when I can expect to meet my new employer? You may know that I have a certain, shall we say, physical need that must be fulfilled."

"Quite. We have made arrangements to cover that eventuality," he said, giving me a knowing smile.

Whereupon I stood up, let the bathrobe fall to the floor, and walked over to where he was standing. I was just starting to reach for the zipper of his pants when he grew red in the face and said, "Janie, my apologies if I gave you the wrong impression. I'm not the one to provide you with the, er, medication you need. In fact, it is no secret in the household that my personal preferences are for partners of the male gender."

He indicated a sideboard, where a pitcher of water and a glass were sitting on a tray. "On that tray is a tablet which contains the same rescue dose that is delivered in a more lusty fashion in this facility. The pill form is for emergencies. Since it will be several days before you meet your new employer, I suggest you swallow it, for your own comfort."

Mr. Gilpin indicated a chair in the corner, on which was sitting an open suitcase. "You will find in that suitcase some clothing in your size. After you have taken your medication, please put it on, because it wouldn't do for you to travel to the airport in your present state of deshabillé. And by the way, you can leave the stilletto heels behind. You will have no need of them. Please be ready to depart in 20 minutes."

Gilpin turned to leave the room. "Wait," I said, grabbing his elbow to stop him.

He turned and looked back at me with some amusement: a stark-naked woman in high heels, holding onto the sleeve of his expensive tailored jacket.

"You haven't told me who my new 'employer' is."

"I have not forgotten," he replied. "Discretion is called for in this case, so my plan is to share that information with you once we are aboard the plane."

Whereupon Gilpin left, and I donned the clothing that had been selected for me. There was nothing especially sexy about it: a pair of slacks with matching blazer, a button-down shirt, practical, low-heeled shoes. Casual business attire. The only exception was the bra and panties, which were in black lace, of the Victoria's Secret variety. I wondered if Gilpin, that old queen, had picked those naughty undies out especially, on behalf of his boss – or if maybe they came from his personal wardrobe? I shook my head in bemused disbelief, not wanting to go there.

How swiftly my life had changed, once again!

Half an hour later, I was seated beside Mr. Gilpin in the back seat of a chauffeur-driven town car. The driver took us not the regular airport, but to a smaller executive airport. We boarded a private jet. It was not until we were airborne than Mr. Gilpin handed me a file folder. I opened it and learned that my new employer – the man for whom I was going to be a Gal Friday with benefits – was none other than the famously reclusive inventor and billionaire industrialist, Richard Balfour.

To be continued...