Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 35
Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 35
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
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(For those who’ve just tuned in, this takes place in the CARGO’verse where male chastity and gender flipped trad marriage are enforced by a new law. Rest of story here.)
Hals' virtual enslavement shouldn't have been legal, but it was.
"The problem is..." said the lean grey-haired lawyer, taking off her glasses and pinching her nose. Her gaze flickered to his collar. "...that you deserted her."
"What? But she called the police to evict me!"
"Only after you declared your non-compliance, which is technically a form of desertion. So, you're at fault, not her." She sniffed. "A revival of a very old form of marriage law."
Hal's stomach fluttered, but his caged groin tightened. "Hang on. If we're old-fashioned, then she has to pay maintenance."
She replaced her glasses. "Unfortunately, you are not actually married."
"So how come she gets to control my bank account and veto my contracts?"
"That, young man, comes with her being your senior partner."
There was a catch in his voice. "I can't work to support myself. I'll end up being forced back to her against my will."
Were the lawyer's eyes twinkling? "Console yourself," she said, "that this is how it was for women before feminism. At least she can't have you consigned to a lunatic asylum... yet."
Hal plucked at his glass collar as if that could loosen in. "Help? There must be something?"
"Well, if you could catch her in an infidelity with another man, you could have cause for divorce."
Hal's shoulders slumped. "I'm not sure she's interested in men."
She opened a drawer and rummaged in it. "I am afraid that you are, as young people put it, 'shafted'." She produced some ten pound notes. "These might help?"
"What? Oh..." He put out his hand. "Thanks!"
She pushed her chair back from the desk, taking the money out of reach. "You have to earn them first. Lock the door..."
Hal heard the same thing from four different lawyers. One of them asked him for a blow job --- Hal politely declined. Another, a nerdy woman with bad glasses, asked him on a date, which at least got him a nice meal and a bed for the night. She also "tipped" him.
The money from whoring himself helped Hal replace the running shoes he'd left at Tabitha's. However, what he really needed was a job.
"Everything is digital these days, mate" they said, which included not just pay but also contracts. He did score with a couple of bored female night managers, which gave him a little extra cash.
His appointment with his social worker finally came around. She suggested going home to his folks, but they were long gone --- his mum was remarried and his biological father wouldn't recognise him. When he explained that to her, she gave him an earnest lecture on patriarchy and righting historical injustices, before sitting astride his lap and pushing her ample breasts into his face until he succumbed and went down on her.
She didn't tip.
Hal then visited his Member of Parliament. Her desk had a signed portrait of PM Aurelia Sharpe, the politician responsible for getting the CARGO bill passed into law. He wasn't surprised when the MP opined that he was being "silly" and should return to his "wifey" and, "maybe cook her a nice dinner to say sorry."
Next, Hal looked for advice online, but found only wank fodder.
When he asked on forums, he got accused of "one handed typing".
That took him to Christmas, which he celebrated at a church-sponsored temperance event. He wasn't the only homeless chaste man there, but he was the only one to get invited home by the plump lady vicar for a nightcap and then what she charmingly called "a quicky". She made him sneak back to the hostel in the small hours "to avoid complications."
Perhaps the horny vicar had taken pity on him because Hal was on his own.
Hal just didn't have the knack of making friends. What would he say to people? He didn't really have anything to talk about except Ancient Rome and he'd gone off that topic since his disastrous job interview. He was never going to be any good at male bonding either --- he just didn't have the ease of the Victors of this world.
After a joyless New Year, one evening Hal caught the eye of hairdresser as she closed up shop. She invited him in for a "free" haircut if he'd sweep up after. This turned out to mean her rolling down the blinds and slumping in the customer chair for a languid hour of cunnilingus while the rush hour traffic roared outside.
The next morning, he put on his best donated clothes and went to the public library where they had a printed copy of the UK Consenting Adults Relationships, Gender and Orientation Act (CARGO). He spent most of the day poring over the fine print, trying to ignore the way the librarians whispered and giggled and kept opening each other's blouses another button --- there was simply no good way to hide his gold-tinted collar.
Yes, the loophole really was there. Tabitha had been within her rights to take him into a "group partnership" and then exit the partnership, leaving him with Miss Armstrong. And, Miss Armstrong didn't owe him maintenance. Unless she released him, she controlled his finances and his ability to sign contracts. Worse, if he survived the next ten years, she would still be able to veto him getting the Artemis chastity device removed.
The afternoon ended with a visit behind the scenes of the library for coffee and cunnilingus with the two staff, one after the other, then three retired lady volunteers, then a friend they phoned. He left the place with an aching tongue but a pocket full of money, and feeling weirdly more like himself. The frustrated tightness in his caged groin had become an old friend.
Unfortunately, as HrLckr caught on, his hookups dried up, along with that source of cash. Women who liked chastes and neuters - "Virgos", they called themselves --- were all on the app, where he was flagged as exclusive to Shona.
So that was that.
Then, one spring day as he was making his daily jog, a taxi pulled up. A woman leaned out and hailed him in an Eastern European accent. "Hey, LostBoy --- want a ride?"
Hal recognised WingedHussy. She didn't care that he was flagged exclusive, so he traded an hour of oral for a trip to UberSmith's place, and a ride back if he wasn't welcome.
He was welcome. Stacy --- UberSmith --- and Jo --- her butch partner the boxer --- had completed their home prison cell in the rear extension to their house.
It was... much more high tech than Hal expected: rubberised floor and walls, toilet and wash basin, and a real barred door guaranteed to open automatically in case of fire or other hazard.
They put him in naked and left him that way for days, except to bring him two meals a day. Jo liked her prison warder outfit --- it looked suspiciously real --- but the skinny Stacy tended to plod through in her bathrobe after feeding the cat. Sometimes she'd let him finger her through the bars and laugh at him when he couldn't resist licking her juices off his digits.
Hal was pretty sure they were enjoying watching him on the webcam they had installed beyond the bars --- sometimes the sound of them making love drifted from the main part of the two-storey house.
At first Hal was glad of the peace of his surprisingly real jail cell; no decisions to take, nothing to worry about. He mostly slept... that was until the dreams of endless pussies to be licked, and Miss Armstrong wielding the whip and him cleaning her apartment that seemed achingly lovely and spacious compared to Stacy and Jo's cluttered terraced house.
After two weeks, he was going mad with frustration and boredom and was overjoyed when his hosts announced he needed to earn his keep. The locksmith business was doing well enough that they could afford him, so he threw himself into the role of housekeeper and occasional sex slave.
Hal catered for regular games nights and planned and cooked Jo's birthday dinner. Sometimes they beat him for fun, but never for discipline: his domestic standards were ahead of theirs and he generally anticipated the women's needs better than they could themselves.
It wasn't exactly a glamorous life, but it was a relief to be useful.
For Stacy's birthday, he got the place really tidy and put on a fabulous Gothy party with candles and bats and spicy dips and blood red wine. She was so pleased that she let him select a dildo and fuck her with it while Jo applied a flogger to his buttocks.
The next morning, a lawyer's letter arrived. It threatened both women with being sued "for alienation of affection" --- another blast from yesteryear's marriage law.
"What the actual fuck?" said Stacy.
"Sorry love, he's got to go," said Jo, opening the cell door.
So Hal packed his bag and climbed in their van. They dropped him off at the hostel... only it was full.
The duty officer directed him to a charitable bunkhouse in a run down part of town which would be fine if he didn't mind morning and evening prayer meetings and being evicted during daylight hours. She hadn't mentioned how noisy it was, nor how... unhygienic some of the clients were. Nor that it was first-come-first-served each night.
There was nothing much to do but go for increasingly long runs in the hope of getting a bed then sleeping through the night.
More often than not, he had to sleep rough. Don't worry, they said, There's a church hall in winter and at least the streets are pretty safe these days. That last might have been true, but it didn't stop him from lying awake tensing at the sound of passing footsteps. When he did sleep, he dreamt of his old cell in Miss Armstrong's flat.
One sunny morning, as he rolled up his sleeping bag, Tabitha sailed past in the passenger seat of a sports car, her hair now trendily bobbed --- they were calling it the "Virgo Cut" --- and wearing expensive sunglasses.
Hal stared after her blearily.
He didn't see the driver, but he did see enough of Tabitha to know that she was doing great without him. She truly had had a lucky escape.
Hal realised that he himself wasn't ever going to escape.
The next years of his life were going to be wasted living off whatever they fed him in hostels and soup kitchens, while his mental health eroded due to boredom and lack of sleep.
Even if Shona did relent and let him get a job --- which she wouldn't --- he would have a massive hole in his employment history. If he worked again, he would be sweeping up and handling trash and sharing a room in some cramped shared flat.
And he'd still be permanently sealed into a chastity device anyway.
Hal gave his bedding to another rough sleeper and set off for Miss Armstrong's apartment.
He arrived just as she strode out of the front door and swept off in the direction of the office, like some Celtic goddess transported to the 21st century.
Hal's entry code still worked, so he let himself in.
His old cell was as he'd left it --- she hadn't replaced him... no infidelity there, alas.
The rest of the place was...
"Dear God!"
He had something like ten hours.
At lunchtime, he raided the stack of notes and coins he'd gathered from around the place and bought some decent provisions. He got a curry slow cooking, then set about deep cleaning her en suite.
With an hour to go, he went through the shower in the hall bathroom opposite his cell.
As he stepped in the hall wrapped in a towel, the front door opened. Shona stood framed in the doorway, as tall and formidable as ever. She sniffed the air. "Curry?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said, feeling the old tightening in his chastity cage.
Mistress let the door close behind her. "Nowhere else to go, then, slave?"
His caged cock gave a wet pulse. "No, Mistress," he said, "I hate you," he added.
The statuesque redhead whipped off his towel, leaving him naked. Something about her gaze made his balls shrink and try to retract themselves against the base ring of the permanent chastity cage. She nodded. "I'm going to beat you until you bleed."
He shivered and bobbed his head. "Yes, Mistress."
"But you can serve me dinner first," said Mistress.
the words "Be careful what you wish for..." are rattling around in my head reading this one. Extremely well done Sir, as always.