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Wage Slave

By: LesterTwo



"Three thousand dollars for a transmission! that's ridiculous and besides it wasn't my fault that piece of junk broke when I was driving it" Keri exclaimed exasperatedly.

I replied "piece of junk or not. it's my car, you weren't supposed to be driving it and from what the mechanic said you were not exactly babying it when it broke. You busted it and you're responsible for getting it fixed."

With a pout she said, "well big deal anyway, we can afford it, just get it fixed and stop trying to blame me."

I was mad now "sure we can afford it but why should I have to work to clean up your mess. I'm the only one with a job so WE can afford it only because I make the money. This is your doing and it's your problem paying for it. In the meantime I'm using your car."

She whined "but I've got PTA and pack meetings and ..."

I completed her sentence "and as long as I don't need the car, enjoy yourself but I get first dibs until my car is back in the driveway."

In an even more irritating whine, Keri replied "but you work all day I'll be stuck at home. You're gone before I even get up and don't come home till dinner."

Now seriously pissed at her self-centered, world rotates around Keri bull, I replied "No shit, which is exactly why WE can afford to get the car fixed. It's time for you to get a job."

The expression of near horror on her face was priceless. It's not like she couldn't work, she had been a professional herself before our first kid. but it had been over 10 years and she had grown accustomed to the leisure time since our youngest was in school now. She had also made it abundantly clear that she was not going back to her original profession, and the technology had changed so much she really couldn't anyway. 

Trying to take the logical high ground, Keri said "well even if I did go back to work it would take months to earn the money and I'm not going without a car for that long."

I was not giving an inch "You're going without a car until my car is back in the driveway. If that takes months that's your problem."

It was then that the thought hit me. To summarize the whirlwind of thoughts that went through my mind ... our sex life was horrible; once a month, in the first week after her period, we have the same kind of dull, boring sex we had the previous month, unless she happened to be visiting her parents or having a girl's weekend, in which we had no sex at all. So, as could be expected having been two weeks since I had seen so much as a naked breast or even glimpsed a pussy not on a computer monitor, I was thinking about sex.

I offered "Tell you what, I'll hire you."

Keri haughtily replied "No way, I don't want to deal with all your paperwork. You're the one who wanted to be self employed so you deal with it. I preferred it when you had a nice secure full time job."

With more than a bit of annoyance I replied "Ignoring for a second that I make about double what I did at my last full time job, which I also despised, and you have little trouble spending the extra cash. that was not the kind of work I had in mind."

"Then what?" she asked with more annoyance than interest.

The month long breaks between sexual encounters had allowed plenty of time to research, shall we say, alternative sources. The going rate for call girls in the area was anywhere from $200 to $350 an hour and that was for seriously hot young babes. A pathological fear of contracting an STD had so far prevented me from procuring their services but I did plenty of window shopping.

Keri now owing me $3000 and years of sexual frustration collided in one rash sentence: "I'll pay you $300 an hour to be my personal and exclusive call girl."

In sixteen years of marriage I don't think I had seen anything within an order of magnitude of how pissed off she became. Her eyes grew wide, lips thin and cheeks stretched tight from the conflicting muscles spasming.

She fairly screamed at me "I am not a whore, either your exclusive and personal whore or any other kind. You pervert, you'll be lucky if you even so much as see me naked in the next six months."

"Since I've barely seen you naked in the past six months that is not much of a threat!. Fine go work at the damn WalMart for $6 an hour. At that rate it shouldn't take more than a year till you get your car back."

Keri ranted and raved, called me every name that could not be used in polite company; and I just stood there. All her foul language and accusations washed off of me like hot butter on teflon. Truthfully I wasn't looking forward to driving a damn minivan for a year but I sure as hell was not going to give in now.

We barely spoke for a week...

It turned out that even getting a job at WalMart wasn't easy. It was just after Christmas and the worthwhile holiday part time staff was first in line for full time jobs. After a week of scouring want ads and filling applications for anything available I began feeling a bit sorry for her. Like I had said she had previously been a professional white collar type, she had a college degree and she was plenty smart. Internally. at least, I was beginning soften up. Maybe I'd offer to split fifty-fifty, that way when she found a job it would only be six months of menial labor before she had her independence back.

Two weeks later, with the car still busted, she came to me while I was working late in my home office. Most unusually she came wearing a most revealing mesh black mini-dress. In the sweetest voice she could manage she said, "Mark, can we talk about this car thing some more."

I looked here up and down, my gaze stopping momentarily at her nipples pushing little buds in her dress and then her black g-string plainly visible under the sheer fabric of her dress. Under that her smoothly shaven pussy lips were revealed as mere shadows... damn this was not going to be easy.

As calmly and flatly as I could manage I said, "What do you want to say?"

"I was just hoping we could put it all behind and maybe restart on a happier note."

"How is that going to get my car fixed?"

A miniscule scowl crossed her face as it became apparent that this was not going to be completely painless for her. Then the sweet smile returned to her full, red, glistening lips. The tip of her tongue lightly glided over, moistening them. She tossed her curly brown hair back off her bare milky-white shoulders, accented only by the thin straps of her dress, revealing earrings dangled enticingly from the delicate lobes accentuating her long, beautiful neck. Her hand slowly slid down her body lightly stroking her nipple as it passed by until it rested on her creamy thigh, clutching the hem of her dress. She lifted the hem inch by inch until the diaphonous g-string was all that remained to, barely, obstruct a view of her feminine cleft. She knew I loved a shaved pussy but she had not done it for years. Regardless of how the rest of this encounter went, our sex life had already improved tenfold.

"I thought maybe we could just forget about that for a little while and just spend some time getting closer, ... much closer." Her hand slid under the waistband of her g-string and began rubbing over her clit. "I'm feeling very hot tonight. I've got an ... itch and was hoping you could scatch some places I just can't get to." She was really pouring it on now. Each word came out in a breathy whisper while one hand rubbed inside her panties and the other massaged her (very large) breasts.

Damn, damn, damn, this was getting very difficult. Very entertaining, enticing, and erotic but I .. must .. hold .. on...

Fortunately my desk hid my hardened cock, which would have been plainly visible through the cotton pajama bottom was wearing, else the degree to which she had me, figuratively for now, by the balls would have been obvious.

"Sure", I said "$300 for every hour you spend as my personal sex toy comes off the repair bill. That's a far better deal than you've found so far and you may actually learn to enjoy something new."

That look of fury momentarily crossed her face again but it was immediately followed by one of resignation. With that change in expression we were negotiating over details the major points of the deal were resolved. I knew I'd won just as long as I tossed her an insignificant concession in the final stages.

"Okay, but nothing really kinky or painful".

"Of course sweetheart but kinky is a matter of personal taste so lets say nothing too painful and we'll pick a safe word. If you use the safe word we stop but you lose 15 minutes of time."

"Fine, I'll do it. What do you want me to do?"

Perhaps I should have displayed supreme self control and told her to just go to bed because I wasn't interested right then but the truth was I was going to have her right there and in ways she had never dreamed of.

"Turn around and remove you panties. Make sure I get a good show while you are doing it."

She did as told and slowly turned around. The globes of her luscious ass were barely covered by the short dress. Her hands slid under the waistband at her curvaceous hips and slowly lowered her panties down her legs. As she bent further over and her dress rode up and over her ass, her pussy lips peeked out from between her thighs, their wetness revealed in glistening reflections. She removed her panties from her left leg and then her right and spread her feet shoulder width. Her hands traveled up the inside of her legs, calves, knees and then her soft inner thighs. First the first, then the second, knuckle of her middle finger disappeared between her wet lips.

She looked back over her shoulder while she slid her finger in and out of her pussy and said in a husky whisper "anything interest you?'

The temptation to grab her hips and plunge my now rock-hard cock into her pussy was nearly impossible to resist. But I knew that if I did then we'd be back right where we were ... once a month, dull boring, yada yada yada...

"Bend over again and grab your ankles." She was taken aback but she complied. "Now spread your legs." Again, though somewhat awkwardly, she complied. "Spread your ass cheeks."

This time she hesitated, "that's too personal. I'm not comfortable with you looking at me back there."

"Okay then, enjoy your walks" and I turned back to my computer to work. Now, if truth be known I was bluffing and she could have simply walked closer to me and the aroma of her perfume and sex would have had me ready to worship any square inch of her body I could get my tongue to. But, Keri never really seemed to understand just how strong the sex drive was for me. Judging only by her own needs she assumed I was serious.

"Okay, enjoy the show" I thought she whispered "pervert" under her breath but she moved to comply and I figured the battle was won, let her have the skirmishes.

Her hands slowly slid up her legs again until each was firmly grasping a globe of her ass. Tentatively she spread them apart just a fraction, then she stopped.

"That won't do. I want to see your ass and I want to see it now! Spread 'em wider." These last words were spoken with just a bit of the anger welled up from years of sexual frustration. She spread her ass further apart, gradually revealing her perfect, virgin rosebud of an asshole. This time she didn't look over her shoulder or even try to seduce me from my chosen course. She was clearly outside her comfort zone and that was exactly where I wanted her. She would look to me for guidance and direction ... and guide her I would.

She stayed in that position, still and revealed as a Mapplethorpe model, for a minute while my eyes drilled into every luscious inch of her ass. In my imagination, I could feel her smooth skin with my cheeks and lips. I could taste the smoky flavor of her pussy. I could feel the crinkly texture of the puckered skin around her ass and the rubbery strength of her anus as my tongue penetrated her most private orifice.

I stood up, walked around my desk and stood directly behind her. I dropped my pajama bottoms and leaned over her until I could hold each of her breasts in my hands. My cock slotted naturally in the cleft of her ass.

"Now, squeeze your ass cheeks around my cock." A gentle pressure on my cock mounted as the soft globes encircled it in humid warmth.

I rubbed myself along her ass while I gently flicked her hardening nipples. She moaned softly. "I told you that you might learn to enjoy this" but her only response was a muted sigh of pleasure.

I rubbed and massaged her nipples harder and faster as her moans increased in number and volume. Her hands squeezed her ass tighter around my cock as my tempo increased.

"Tell me you like it, tell me how much my cock excites you and makes your pussy wet. Be a good call girl and talk dirty to me." Keri talking dirty was a Rubicon of sexual adventurousness, she didn't do it naturally and had never done it simply for my pleasure. If pussy, tits, ass, cock, cunt or fuck crossed her lips we were entering new territory.

She hesitated again but only to let the words form in her mind. She was clearly trying to say naughty things without using the naughty words.

"Your hands feel so good rubbing my breasts. Rub them harder, pinch my nipples." Actually saying "pinch my nipples" was progress but was not going to suffice. I wanted dirty talk, real dirty "lick my pussy, fuck my cunt with your big tool" kind of talk.

I pinched her nipples ... hard. She jumped under me and let out a surprised squeal. "That hurt, not so hard". I pinched them again, just as hard. "I said not so hard" she said with some anger in her voice.

"I'm paying for these tits and I'm going to do what I want with them. You want something different you learn to say so and use the right words." With that I roughly grabbed her right breast and said "what is this?"

"A breast?"

"No, it's a tit, understood? If you want your tits pinched gently then say please pinch my tits gently, understood?"

"Yes sir"

I liked the "sir" she added of her own volition.

I knocked her right hand off her ass cheek and roughly grabbed a handful of her ass. "What is this?"

"My butt, sir?"

I released her cheek just long enough to give her a nice hard smack across her ass.

"Ow, that stings"

"It's your ass".

"Yes sir, it's my ass. Please don't smack my ass so hard."

Finally, my hand sneaked down between her legs and cupped her pussy. "And this?"

She was catching on by now.

"My pussy, sir."

"That's right pet, your pussy. Do you want me to rub your pussy?"

"Yes sir, please rub my pussy" she sighed.

I gently parted her pussy lips and teased her clit with my middle finger. A pretty moan escaped her lips, "that feels so good."

I immediately stopped, "what feels so good?"

She immediately understood what I wanted "Your finger feels so good rubbing my clit, sir. Please don't stop." I resumed my gentle teasing, once again parting her lips with my ring and pointer fingers and stroking the sensitive flesh between with my middle finger.

Her hips began to rock in rythym with my stroking, building until the motion of her tits, swinging below her, built to where they softly bumped her chin and stomach. "Please sir, I need you inside me". I plunged my middle finger into her hot canal. "Please sir I need more, something bigger". I was not about to let this encounter end so soon, though I knew what she wanted was for me to fuck her from behind. I continued to finger fuck her, adding one, two and then three fingers to the one already inside her. She humped back hard against my hand, impaling herself with each stroke. The sight of her wet cunt tightly gripping my hand was too much. I wanted pussy, I wanted it in my face and I wanted it now. 

I pulled my fingers from her snatch and dropped to my knees. She moaned in disappointment and for a brief second I reconsidered then with my face inches from her pussy and ass I said "grab your ass again and spread your cheeks wide". This time there was no hesitation, she reached both hands into the cleft of her ass and rudely spread herself to my view.

"Now spread your legs wider." She awkwardly crabbed walked one leg at a time, never releasing the grip on her gorgeous ass.

I stopped for a moment, enjoying the view like it was my personal mountain vista. The outer lips of her pussy parted naturally as her legs spread revealing the flushed pink of her inner lips and the delicate folds hiding her sensitive clit. Her molten tunnel was slightly dilated as if preparing for the entry of my hard cock.

My gaze moved slightly upward to the object of my most carnal desire. In this position the pink rosebud of her virgin asshole was stretched but still clinched tightly to resist invading fingers, vibrators and cocks.

Fixing the view in my mind like the cherished memory it would become, I grabbed her hips and sunk my face into her hot pussy, I pulled her ass back against me until my lips were buried deep in the warm, wet nirvana of her cunt. My tongue sought her clit while my nose penetrated her like a small cock. She groaned loudly and said "oh god yes, lick my pussy, tongue my clit, I want you to bury your whole face in my fucking cunt". I smiled to myself even as my mouth was deep between her lips,she was definitely catching on to the dirty talk thing.

I moved up slightly till my tongue found the source of the hot juice covering the whole of her inner thigh. I curled my tongue into a hard rod and pushed as deep into her core as I could. She moaned loudly once again "yes, yes, yes, bury your tongue up my hot cunt, tongue-fuck your little call girl's pussy till I come all over your face". 

Grabbing her hips harder I began to rock forward and back, plunging my tongue deep into her then withdrawing all but the tip before plunging back once more. She grabbed the back of my head and began roughly rocking back and forth in time, forcing me deeper into her with each thrust. Her breathing became faster and shallower until finally she screamed "oh god I'm cumming" and violently forced herself against my face. The walls of her pussy spasmed around my tongue and lips with the contractions of her orgasm.

She held me against her pussy for what seemed like minutes while her orgasm continued and then slowly subsided. Her breathing gradually deepened and slowed, she relaxed her grip on the back of my head allowing me to breath once again. Then she let her hands fall to her knees to steady herself.

"That was incredible ... please sir let me catch my breath before we continue." I was pleased with this reaction on a number of levels; first because she had become for awhile the wanton slut every man with a working cock wants in bed, second was that she stayed in the position I had told her to assume even after a massive orgasm, and finally because she knew that we were not through for the evening.

"Yes pet, relax for a moment." I began to massage the globes of her ass firmly bit gently, rubbing in a circular motion alternately pressing her cheeks together and then splitting them apart. She relaxed in my hands, lazily rocking as I continued the deep tissue therapy.

I moved closer to her ass as I continued my massage, altering the motion so that her ass cheeks remained apart more and pressed together less. I increased this tendency until, once again, the wrinkled object of my lust was fully and continuously revealed. My lips were now inches from her puckered asshole, wantonly spread open before me. I leaned in, extending my tongue and tentatively tasted the wrinkled pink skin. She had remained silent till now, probably waiting to see what I was going to do, but now a small sigh escaped her lips. Her hands slid up her legs again and replaced mine, opening herself to me.

I ran my hands between her legs to cup her tits in each hand. Another sigh escaped her as I found her nipples and began gently tweaking them between my fingers.


Wage Slave



My tongue began to lick her ass in earnest now, long slow licks across her puckered hole, then little circles spiraling into the center and gently probing inward.

"You tongue feels so good on my ass. I don't believe you're doing that but please don't stop."

My probing became more insistent, my tongue slowly parting the rubbery ring of muscle.

I said "Do you want me to tongue-fuck your ass?" knowing the answer before the word escaped my lips.

"Yes sir, please fuck my asshole with your tongue. I want to feel you buried inside my ass."

I returned to her ass, poking more insistently as she relaxed and allowed deeper penetration in her dark canal. I soon had my tongue as far inside her ass as it would reach and her anus, clinched so tight before, now remained slightly open. Her ass was wet with the saliva I had left behind.

"Now pet I am going to take your virgin ass." She tensed for just a moment, her ass closing again.

She relaxed a bit and said "Yes sir, I want you to. I want your cock in my ass. I want you to take me and ravage my sweet ass."

I stood, spat into my hand the largest spitball I old conjure and began rubbing her ass with my fingers. The first finger slipped in easily though her ass still clinched tightly around it. I probed around, flexing and relaxing my finger to slowly loosen her.

"Put another finger in." Keri said.

The second finger met resistance right after the entrance. Slowly working my finger into her asshole, alternately pushing and then allowing her to relax, both fingers popped in as her ass yielded to the invading object. A deep "uhhh" slipped from her mouth. "I feel full already, I don't know if I'll be able to take another finger let alone your cock."

"Relax pet, we are in no rush. Just relax and let me do the rest."

I spat directly on the junction of her ass and my fingers, working the meager lubricant into her. 

It was then I remembered a tube of KY that I had in my desk, left there months ago in a time of much solo and little tandem sex. I removed my fingers from her ass, opened the desk drawer and removed the tube. After squirting a generous blob on my fingers and directly into her now slightly open ass I resumed with two fingers. This time they slipped in easily. With two fingers, I fucked her ass, feeling her slowly relax and stretching to accommodate the intruders.

I knew as I added a third finger that I was now one step from the grand prize. She tensed slightly as she felt it at her back passage.

"Relax sweetheart, push out as I push in."

With that little bit of advice, the lube and her now totally relaxed state, my fingers popped into her with only a small gasp of surprise from Keri.

My cock was rock hard at the sight of her tight little asshole firmly gripping my fingers as I fucked her.

"Oh god that feels good. Finger my ass baby, get my little virgin asshole ready for your hard cock. I want to feel you pound my little ass."

That was it, I couldn't resist any longer. I pulled my fingers from her ass, noticing that it stayed satisfyingly dilated, squirted a healthy dollop of lube on my cock and into Keri's ass, and lined up the head of my cock with that previously forbidden passage.

"Yes baby, give me your cock. I want to feel it split my asshole wide open. I want you to fuck my ass, now dammit".

With that I pressed the head of my cock into her tightest hole. Even with three fingers inside a moment earlier the fit was tight. I pressed forward as her sphincter slowly relented until, with an almost audible pop, my cock sank into her ass.

"Oh my god baby, your cock is so big, it hurts so good. Take it easy for a second and let me get used to it."

Despite every instinct to drive myself as deep up her rectum as I could in one forceful plunge I resisted and waited for her to relax and accommodate my size. Once she started to rock back and forth I took that as a signal to begin an ass-fucking in earnest. Slowly our tempo and depth increased until I was buried to the root in her ass with every thrust.

I felt her hands move to her pussy. She began rubbing her clit furiously while she plunged four fingers in her wet pussy.

"Yes baby, that's so good. Fuck my ass hard and deep, give it to me baby."

Keri's newfound talent for dirty talk was working wonders for me. My orgasm began to build from deep in my balls working its way into my hips. At this point I was on automatic and could not have stopped if I had wanted to. I roughly grabbed her hips and pounded into her ass as hard as I could.

"Oh my god baby, I'm going to come. Fuck my ass harder dammit, pound my ass, fuck me fuck me fuck me....."

We came together, with a final thrust I shot my cum deep into her, my hips pressing hard against her ass and my cock buried to its full length into her rectum.

Our breathing slowly returned to normal. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close to me, I whispered into her ear "I love you". She turned her head and kissed me, "I love you too... I kinda like this job, maybe we can work a deal for spending money after I pay off the car."

I glanced at the clock, did a quick subtraction and said "nine more hours to go..."



Wage Slaves



Detective Lloyd Donahue noticed the girl approaching when she was about fifteen feet away from the entrance to the store. He recognized the look on her face more than anything else about her--she was the fifth employee of 'Strings and Things' to come in since the bust, and they all had that same expression. This one had it worse than some of the others. Lloyd was willing to bet she had a record of some sort, even if she was clean at the moment. She had the body language of someone who'd spent a few too many nights in a holding cell to be comfortable around cops. Her eyes added mistrust and fear to the bewilderment he'd seen in the other girls. She wasn't just unsure of the situation, she actively wanted to avoid it.

That didn't stop her from walking right up to the police tape that blocked the entrance, though. Her eyes might have wanted to hesitate, but her body didn't even pause. She started to duck right under the tape like it didn't apply to her, and one of the uniformed cops said sharply, "Hey! Can't you read?"

"It's okay," Lloyd shouted over from where he was going through the store's books. "Let her in." He turned away from the computer and picked up his walkie-talkie. "Yeah, Gina?" he said into it. "Yeah, we got another one. Female, caucasian, looks to be about twenty-four, twenty-five...I'd say about 5'9". Brown hair, brown eyes."

Once she did get inside, the girl looked like she was kind of at a loss to figure out what to do next. That was probably the programming breaking down when confronted with an unexpected situation. The girl knew she had to get to work on time, but there were no customers, and forensics had already put everything that wasn't nailed down into plastic bags and taken it off to the lab. The evidence locker was going to look like a fucking Arts and Crafts class for the next month or two.

"We were expecting a 'Francine' to show up about now," Gina said over the walkie-talkie. "That's probably her. Can you spot a name-tag?"

"Hang on, I'll check." Lloyd went around the counter to get a good look at the girl. That was one of the nice things about this whole fucked-up mess; everyone had to wear a name-tag. "Yeah, this is Francine. You wanna get out here and start the counseling?"

Francine looked sharply at him, her eyes narrowed in hostility. "Counseling for what?" she asked. "Where's Mr. Federer?"

Lloyd lowered the walkie-talkie and tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she took a quick step backwards. "Look," he said, "this is going to be a little difficult to believe for you right now, but...your boss has been arrested for violating state and federal labor laws. We believe that he's been using certain experimental and highly illegal technology to influence your mind." She started to open her mouth, but he held up his hand. "I know, it sounds crazy, but if you start to think about it--really think about it--you'll probably notice that some of the things you've been doing don't make a lot of sense."

"So wait, wait, wait," Francine said, her expression souring. Lloyd wasn't surprised. Two of the other girls had broken down crying when they'd finally managed to work through their conditioning and realize what had happened to them. "You're telling me you've closed the store?"

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. Obviously, some of them were more deeply conditioned than others. "Well, yes," he said. "But it's more important for you to understand that your boss, Mr. Federer, has been brainwashing you. He's been altering your mind. Try to think about what you used to be like before you took this job, and what you're like now."

Francine's mouth narrowed into a thin line that only accentuated her sharp, bony features. "You closed the fucking store?" she snapped. "Just fucking perfect. Thanks so fucking much for fucking up another job for me!"

Lloyd frowned, and tried again. "You need to try to think about this," he said, trying to sound soothing. He knew it wasn't his strong suit, though. Where the hell was Gina? "Allan Federer has been brainwashing you and all the other employees--"

"Yeah, yeah, the Muzak shit," Francine said dismissively. "You wanna talk 'important', I've got rent due in a week and a half, my boyfriend's unemployment ran out yesterday, and now I don't have a fucking job. That's fucking 'important', Mister I-Love-Screwing-People-Over-Because-I've-Got-A-Cushy-Government-Job!"

Lloyd's jaw dropped. He saw Gina coming out of the back room, and he gestured her over urgently. "Okay, say again," he said to Francine as soon as Gina was in earshot. "You know about the brainwashing?"

"Sure," Francine said, crossing her arms and glaring at the two of them. "I ain't stupid, I got my GED. You think just because I work retail, I'm dumb or something?"

Lloyd's expression hardened. "Listen, lady, you might not be dumb, but I don't think you understand exactly what's going on here. Your boss is currently looking at a long stretch in federal prison for this brainwashing scheme, and now you're telling me you knew about it. That might just earn you the cell next to his if you don't explain exactly how you knew, and fast. Because there are four young women in various stages of a nervous breakdown right now as they realize just what that 'Muzak shit' made them do--"

"Oh, puh-lease!" Francine said, rolling her eyes. "This is the best fucking job I've ever had. The problem with those bitches is they don't know how good they have it, working here. I didn't help Mr. Federer do it, or anything. I figured out what he was doing all on my own. But if he'd have told me about this? I'd have fucking volunteered."

Lloyd and Gina exchanged glances. "We're going to need to take a formal statement," Lloyd said at last. "We can do it here, or down at the station if you'd prefer."

"I had enough of cops after I got off probation," Francine replied. "You want me to talk, I'll talk, but I ain't sitting down in a police station unless you arrest me."

Lloyd really wished he could find a good reason to arrest Francine, but Gina stepped in. She'd been trained to help deal with traumatized witnesses; even if Francine didn't seem all that traumatized right now, Gina would still handle this better. "It's okay," she said, taking out a tape recorder. "You just go ahead and explain to us what's going on, and hopefully we'll have everything we need without having to go anywhere." She pushed down the record button. "Please, Francine," she said. "Go ahead and tell us your story."

Francine still looked wary, but she must have realized she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. "All right," she said. "Not like it matters now anyway. So I first...

*****

So I first figured out that something was fucked up when Mr. Federer installed the whole elevator music system. He told us that it was just something to help productivity, or some shit like that, but come on. Nobody installs an expensive speaker system just because they think their employees work faster with music playing. It's the same bullshit everywhere, you know? Like when I worked at 'Mister Games', and the boss put a microwave in the break room because he said that it would help us save money by cooking our own food, and then he was all, like, "Oh, and by the way, that means that you won't be allowed to leave store premises on your lunch break!" Total BS. Every guy who owns one of these little independent stores, they're all looking for ways to screw you over.

So yeah, he's installing this whole big speaker system, and he's got this little skinny German guy with great big glasses working on it--yeah, Doctor Dietz. What, really? Interpol? Jeez, and I thought he was just a little weaselly dude. Anyhow, yeah, he's working on it, and he's always looking at our tits when he thinks we're not looking, and he's always walking around with some gizmo or other talking about "calibrating sound levels" or some shit like that. And I thought it was kind of weird, because nobody really cares if they get good sound on their shitty elevator music, but who fucking cares, right? It's just a retail job. They all suck just as bad as each other. I'd go home, I'd get st--drunk, I'd fuck my boyfriend and I'd forget about it.

So they start up the sound system, and Mr. Federer, he takes a six-week vacation to Florida. And that's another thing that kind of hits me funny, because it's the middle of November. Oh, come on, haven't either of you ever had a job in the real world? November into December is the busiest time of the year, especially for a crafts store like this place. We get fucktons of losers in here making nativity scenes out of pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks, or shit like that. It's busy open to close. The holidays are the one time of the year when the storeowners roll up their sleeves and pitch in just like the rest of us, because it's cheaper than hiring extra seasonal help. That's what you gotta remember about all these guys. They're all penny-pinching little bastards. So here's Mr. Federer, installing this brand-new speaker system that looks like it cost a fortune and then skipping out on the holiday rush, and I'm wondering what's up with that, you know?

Brandy? Fuck Brandy. Fuck all those other girls. They're a bunch of stuck-up college bitches taking a job to help pay their way through school, they don't know shit about dick. Fuck no, I won't watch my language! It's been nine months since I could swear inside this store, I'm gonna fucking enjoy it! What are you gonna do, arrest me for swearing?

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Point is, Brandy and those other girls, they don't know what it's like when you work retail for a living, instead of just to get spending cash to cover what Mommy and Daddy don't pay out for college. They just work one job for the summer, maybe a year or so, and it's off to find something "dignified". The rest of us? We work one job for a year or so, and then the store closes, or we hear that the 'Candy Is Dandy' on the other end of the mall pays a buck more an hour, or we get canned just because we showed up a little st--drunk one day for work and the boss is a total prick about it. So we get another, and another, and pretty soon that shit is just clogging up your job history and you can't get anything but retail jobs, and then you get to know how shit works around here pretty fucking good. So Brandy and those other girls, they might not have noticed anything weird, but I sure as fuck did.

That didn't mean I paid attention to the music, though. I just tuned it out; we all did. It was elevator music, you know? All crappy strings and no lyrics and you just sort of push it to the back of your head and get on with the day, especially when the days were as busy as they were. We had people in here all the damn time, buying yarn and styrofoam and all that shit, and we could barely keep up.

Yes, there's a fucking point to this. I'm getting to the fucking point. The fucking point is that it was crunch time, but Mr. Federer was still away in Florida for another week, and Keisha could say she was the supervisor all she wanted but I knew she couldn't do dick about it if I called in sick. And it was a Saturday night and I wanted to go see my boyfriend's band play, so I picked up the phone to call and say I had the flu...

And I just stopped. I put the phone back down again, told myself it wouldn't be right to skip work when we were so busy like this, and started getting ready for work. And if I was Brandy, or one of those other college girls, I probably wouldn't have even thought twice about it. I'd have been all, like, "Oh, of course it's not right to call in sick when you're not really sick! It's also not right to leave your cell phone on when you're working, or take a long break, or cross against the traffic light," or eighteen other kinds of bullshit.

But retail vets, we know better. We don't get vacations. They don't care about us, we don't care about them. It's been five years since the first time I called in sick when I just needed a day off, and four years since I stopped giving a fuck about it. I knew this was weird, deep down in my gut, even if my brain kept telling me that it was totally normal and I should stop thinking so hard about it.

So I went to work, and I was still trying to figure out why the fuck I did that. Only I wasn't, because every time I tried to think about it, I just sort of wound up humming along to the elevator music while I restocked the shelves or fronted the merchandise. It wasn't really important, you know? I was at work, and even if I kind of had other places I wanted to be, this was still a fun job.

And that's when I really knew something was wrong. Because this job sucks. The customers are all the kind of people who are out of grade school and are still making shit out of yarn, the merchandise is so boring I wouldn't even steal it, my co-workers are either stuck-up college bitches or mousy girls who work here for the employee discount on their crafts shit, and the only thing that keeps me here is the commission. I've hated every second of every shift I ever had. But here I was, refilling the beads instead of listening to my boyfriend's band, and I was actually happy.

And the more I thought about it, the more I noticed that it wasn't a "real" kind of happy. It was...okay, look, I've done a little pot, once or twice. I already got busted for it and I already did my time, so don't even fucking think about trying to arrest me, okay? But the point is, I know what it feels like to get baked, and that was what this felt like. It wasn't the kind of happy you get from going down to the beach with friends on your day off, it was the kind of happy you get from doing hits off your boyfriend's gravity bong. My head felt all empty, I felt all mellow and foggy and whatever I had to do to get through the day and do the job right, that was cool. I wasn't giggly or anything, but I felt totally stoned off my ass.

I didn't know what was causing it, not then. I just knew that something was making the shift go by in this warm, sticky haze of...the other girls told you about that? Yeah, it felt hot. Not as much then as it does now, but I was getting these sort of warm tingles all over when I did my job right. Like, my boyfriend called about halfway through my shift to ask me where I was and why I wasn't at the gig, and I started to answer...but something made me stop what I was doing, and switch my phone off instead of answering it. And when I did that, I got this warm little rush between my legs, like someone had just blown a little puff of air right on my clit. That was the best of them, that night, but even little shit like straightening the shelves and taking out the garbage made me feel like someone was petting me all over.

The buzz lasted all the way through to when I got to the bus station. I found myself actually wanting to go back to work, and I knew that was some fucked-up shit, because I don't know anyone who actually volunteers for a retail shift, and I bet you don't either. I thought about that on the ride home--it was kind of hard, because my brain kept wanting to slide away from the idea, but you know what it's like when you know something's not right, but you don't know what it is. Every time my brain told me to forget, I forgot, but I'd start thinking about something else and it'd lead me right back to the things I was supposed to forget. And after a while, I noticed that I kept forgetting, and that was something else I started thinking about.

And by the time I got home, I'd realized that I'd been feeling good about work for a while now. This was the first time I really noticed, because this was the first time I'd tried to skip, but when I thought about it, I remembered feeling kind of happy about going to work for a few weeks now. No, I still didn't figure it out that night. I got home and got into a fight with my boyfriend about missing his gig, and by the time we got to the make-up sex, it kind of didn't seem all that important.

But over the next week, I noticed even more stuff. I noticed that all the other girls at work had this weird dreamy look on their faces every day, and I was pretty sure I looked like that too. Not that I minded. Fuck, I loved it. Every day I came in to work, I felt better coming in to work. Every day I spent here, I enjoyed it more. It got hotter every time--I wasn't, you know, moaning or anything, because keeping quiet and acting polite and "professional" felt good too, but by the time Mr. Federer got back from Florida, I was creaming my jeans pretty much non-stop. It was fucking sweet; I'd be sitting there, helping some little old lady pick out a macrame kit for her niece, and the whole time it felt like someone was pounding my cunt with a foot-long dildo. I never used to like helping the customers much, but damn, you know?

I figured it out when Mr. Federer got back. He said something about how he'd developed a little hearing problem while he was away, and part of me just wanted to believe everything he said about everything by then, but the other part of me, the part that had been noticing shit already? It wondered why Doc Dietz had the same weird hearing aid things in his ears, too, if it was a "hearing problem." And then things started to click about that elevator music. I would watch customers who spent a lot of time in the store, the real hard-core hobby people, and after a couple of hours, they'd be sort of humming along to the music, and then they'd start straightening merch without even realizing they were doing it. And they'd get that look on their faces. You just knew that it was giving them deep-down tingles to do it. Some of our regular customers, they started hanging around for hours, helping us out without even being paid for it. Not that we needed much help by then. We were all pretty fucking motivated, you know? 

And a few days after he got back, Mr. Federer called me into his office for a little meeting. He had the speakers in there, too, and the sound was even better. He and Dietz were both waiting for me, and they started talking about how happy they were with my productivity and all that bullshit, but I knew what I was really in there for. I walked around Mr. Federer's desk with this big, dopey grin on my face, nodding and thanking him for saying so many nice things about me, but the whole time my pussy was so itchy I could barely keep my hand out of my skirt. When he turned his chair to face me I could see his boner sticking up in his pants, and for the first time ever, that looked so fucking hot to me. I couldn't help myself, I dropped to my knees and unzipped him, and oh my fucking god, I've never felt so good giving a blowjob in my life.

It felt like I had a clit inside my mouth, it was so good. Every time I bobbed my head up and down the shaft, I felt like I was cumming all over again. Doc Dietz had gone around behind me and pulled up my skirt, and I didn't even care, I was so horny. Hell, I wanted it. My mouth and my hands were too busy with Mr. Federer's cock to really help him out, but if I could have, I would have. When he pulled my panties to the side and slipped me his dick, it was...it was the fucking nuclear orgasm bomb, or something. I can't even describe it. There aren't words for how fucking good that felt. He could have pounded my pussy forever, and I'd still have begged for more.

Instead, he wound up slipping it into my ass instead. And when I realized what he was doing, I wanted to tell him to stop, but my mouth was full of cock and it didn't even take a whole second before I could feel my thoughts twisting around inside my head until what I wanted was to take his cock up my ass while I sucked Mr. Federer's cock. And suddenly I'm grinding my ass up against Dietz's dick, because when he stuck it in me, it felt so fucking hot and dirty and good that I just had to have every inch of that inside me, and he's pounding away and it's forcing my face down onto Mr. Federer's cock and then suddenly I'm cumming like crazy without even touching my pussy.




Wage Slaves



No, I don't really care that they brainwashed me into it. I mean, it's not like I wasn't sucking Mr. Federer's dick before he installed all this shit. The part of me that could still think straight, I actually thought it was kind of nice of him to make it fun for me. Used to be it was just, "Oh, crap, I came in three hours late again. Well, I know what'll make Mr. Federer forget about that!" Now even the blowjobs were fun. Hell, even his cum tasted good, like it was candy or something. Bet my boyfriend wishes he could brainwash me into swallowing.

And that's what it's been like for the past six months. A non-stop high, work that actually doesn't blow, and kick-ass sex in the office. And now you fucked it up for me.

*****

...fucked it up for me. Happy now?" Francine finished with the same glare she'd worn when she started, a definite departure from the dreamy smile she'd worn when she talked about what it was like to be brainwashed. That smile had softened her whole face, made her seem beautiful in a way Lloyd hadn't seen before and couldn't see again now. He frowned, uncomfortable with that particular line of reasoning for reasons he couldn't articulate.

Gina broke the silence. "I, um...I think that'll be all, yes," she said. She was blushing pretty hard. Lloyd couldn't blame her, not with some of the things Francine had said. He wondered if that was some lingering effect of the mind control, or if she was just always that open about talking about sex.

"Then unless you're gonna arrest me," Francine said, "I'm getting the fuck out of here. You need my name and address, Mr. Federer's got all that shit on file--and I'm still owed two weeks' pay plus commission, in case he tries to duck out of that shit."

Gina said, "Wait!" She had an anguished expression on her face. "I...I don't think this has sunk in for you yet, Francine. You were brainwashed. Your free will was violated, Francine. We have people that can help you come to terms with what that means, what you were forced to...to..." Her voice faltered as it crashed into Francine's stony glare. "What are you going to do about all this?" she asked at last.

Francine shrugged. "I dunno. I hear the Colonel's is hiring." And with that, she ducked under the tape and headed off. Part of Lloyd wanted to stop her, but what could he do? She was right. She hadn't broken any laws, they had her name and address, and they clearly couldn't give her help she didn't want. Maybe for a girl like Francine, showing her the way things really were wasn't much help at all.

Lloyd watched Francine walk away until she was lost in the crowd, then returned to work.

THE END