Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 8
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
Outside the apartment, Hal stopped, leaned on a lamp post.
Some old ladies tutted as they went past: “Drunk in the afternoon. Millennials! I don’t know...”
“It’s Gen Z,” muttered Hal. He flushed. The blood to his skin made his welts throb.
What had he become? He’d let his kinky fantasies take him way too far down a dark path. The first thing was to get rid of the device before the PA hook merged with his penis.
He rang the Artemis Clinic. Once the phone operator had gone through the normal disclaimers and identification routine, he blurted, “My red button got pressed.”
“Congratulations on becoming your true self, Will. I’ll record you as ‘neutered’ subject to confirmation. You can come in any time or see one of the local Verifiers...”
His pierced penis twitched in protest. “No... I changed my mind.”
“I’m sorry, Hal, but Artemis isn’t responsible for what you do with your device. We didn’t install it. You weren’t even wearing it when you left the property.”
“But somebody else pressed the button!”
“That sounds distressing,” said the operator.
“But can you remove it for me?”
“When it finally comes online, the removal operation will be subject to a new legal framework. You can subscribe to our news letter on the website. In the mean time, perhaps you would be interested in one of our propriety collars to advertise your neutered status?”
So much for Artemis Corp.
Next he tried the Police and got through to a bored duty officer:
"Another Artemis Chastity Device?" She didn't bother to hide the sigh. "Were there any witnesses?"
"Uh..." That just seemed like an odd question. "How could there be?"
"Do you have video evidence?"
Hal's voice was still hoarse from pleading. He must have looked pathetic. "Jesus! I hope not!"
"Can you explain why you installed such a dangerous device in the first place?
"Um... it's hard to..."
"Sorry, sir, that's not enough to go on and would be very hard to explain to a jury were it to come to court. Was there anything else...?"
He'd been walking while he talked and now found himself outside an upmarket café. He spent some of Ms Armstrong’s money on an expensive coffee and a custard pastry and settled into a comfy arm chair.
It was surreal, sitting here surrounded by normal people, all of whom --- presumably --- could have an orgasm given a just few minutes privacy.
And had had been just like them until an hour ago.
A glossy magazine on a nearby rack caught his eye.
Prime Minister Aurelia Sharpe bestrode the cover like a Norse Goddess, all bosom and flaxen braids with gilded sword in two hands: "BUT CAN SHE DELIVER CARGO?"
It was the famous picture of the statuesque politician bearing the Sword of State during Queen Anne's coronation. Hal didn't much like her politics --- the Social Harmony Party was a splinter of the old Conservative Party, as were most of her coalition partners --- but my god, Sharpe pushed his buttons.
He leaned over, snagged the magazine and started flicking through for sexy pictures while a little voice in his head told him it wouldn't do him any good.
"CARGO" turned out to be the official name for the Consenting Adults Relationships, Gender and Orientation Act, the cross-party compromise that was supposed to give everybody what they wanted, from traditional marriage through group marriage to gender fluid polyamory with intersecting polycules... and maybe --- the satirists joked --- leather families and pocket matriarchies to boot. Nobody could tell whether Sharpe was acting on libertarian principles, or just clinging onto power.
Nothing clinging in these pictures, alas.
There she was looking prime-ministerial in a trouser suit. And there she was in a knee-length black dress at a fund raiser for a women's education charity....
Sharpe was deep in conversation with a brown-skinned woman with lustrous black hair, luscious lips and big eyes flanked by deep laughter lines: "'Artemis', the former model turned medtech entrepreneur."
Hal's penis heaved against its cage, as if the woman herself were gripping it. That was Artemis?
And there was her husband, a British architect, apparently. He was looking at her with complete devotion... and there was a tell-tale bump in his dress trousers.
But of course. Artemis's husband would be a neuter.
Now Hal went looking for the Prime Minister's husband... the research assistant she'd married so suddenly.
Sure enough, he too sported a cage bump.
Sweat broke out on Hal's brow.
What was it the call handler at the clinic had said about a new framework?
He took out his phone and searched for kink friendly locksmiths.
There was actually one on the edge of town. They even responded to chat --- at least this wouldn’t be as excruciatingly embarrassing going to the local hospital.
Hal glanced around to check nobody could see what he was typing:
Hal_14121: Hi. R U really kink friendly.
No response. He stared at the screen, then added:
Hal_14121: ?
The locksmith started typing.
UberSmith: Seen it all m8
UberSmith: Whats ur problem
Hal_14121: Ever heard of Artemis? The Red Button?
UberSmith: Ur fucked mate!
UberSmith: Well *not* fucked
UberSmith: Ever! ROFL
UberSmith: Material heats when cut
UberSmith: Roasted dick from inside
UberSmith: LOL.
Hal flushed.
Hal_14121: Help? Pls?
There was a long pause. Then:
UberSmith: LOL. Sorry. Had to wank to ur predicament.
UberSmith: BECAUSE I COULD.
Hal_14121: Do U know anybody who can help?
UberSmith: Well a mate did work out how to cut them off.
Hal_14121: Gr8! Phone number pls?
UberSmith: Serving 6 months in jail for performing surgery without a license. Made a real mess of the bloke’s dick.
UberSmith: Also Artemis sued him into the dark ages for IP violation because propriety medical device.
Hal frowned. He remembered the protests at the new IP law going through. Among other things, it was supposed to stop people from reverse engineering high end medical devices.
UberSmith: Nobody is going to help you.
UberSmith: Sorry not sorry.
UberSmith: Am wanking right now.
UberSmith: Hold on a moment...
Hal’s heart leapt. Had the locksmith thought of something?
A picture came through. It turned out that UberSmith was female, with lots of tattoos and labial piercing, and she really was masturbating.
Hal’s forlorn penis twitched into an attempted erection.
UberSmith: U won’t ever unsee that.
UberSmith: Careful what U wish 4
UberSmith: ROFL vibrator time 4 me.
(UberSmith is Offline)
Hal closed the app and buried his face in his hands.
The phone buzzed.
It was his boss at the cleaning agency. She was very sorry but there would be no more hours again, ever. She hoped he understood, but she couldn’t risk keeping on contractors who upset her clients.
Hal ended the call. “Bitch!”
The café fell silent. Everybody was looking at him.
He grabbed his coat and fled back to the street. He’d been used and discarded. “Bitch!” he repeated, but his traitorous cock was already hard in its cage.
He should march back and confront her. But then she’d call the police and he’d have to explain his predicament to sneering law enforcement officers.
Of course there were other emergency services.
The triage nurse scowled. “Pull up your pants!” As Hal obeyed, she added, “Really, we’ve got better things to do than get involved in your sex games.”
The junior nurse, also female, with fine head of thick black hair, let out a squeak but somehow managed not to giggle even though her big dark eyes were watering.
Hal blushed and fumbled to zip himself up. “Really, I’m stuck.”
The triage nurse turned to the younger one. “And what do we call this, Nurse O’Hara?”
The reply came in a sweet Irish accent. “Erotic Münchhausen’s combined with a medical fetish,” she said primly.
“We’re seeing an epidemic of this,” said the older one. “It’s that vile Artemis clinic drilling holes in the penises of any young man stupid enough to ask for it. I blame the Internet.”
“No,” said Hal. “Really. It wasn’t my idea. Don’t you have tools?”
The older nurse folded her arms. “It’s not that simple.” She repeated what the locksmith had told him, though more kindly and without stopping off to masturbate, though a glint in her eye suggested that she would remember this later.
“Please,” said Hal. “You can’t just send me away. Don’t you have to follow a procedure?”
“Procedure,” said the nurse. “Very well. She tapped at her notepad. “Is it stopping you passing water?”
“What? No,” said Hal. “I can pee fine.”
She tapped the notepad. It emitted a cheerful ping! She was obviously ticking off a checklist. “Is it infected?”
“No,” said Hal.
Ping!
The sound made Hal’s penis harden in its prison.
“Will it stop you from working?”
“Um...” said Hal. “I mean, people might spot it...”
“Don’t try that on,” said the senior nurse. “When you walked in here, it was invisible under your jeans.” She tapped and there was another cheerful ping.
Hal’s penis lurched and tried to heave itself free. He bit back a whimper.
The Irish nurse’s eyes became watery orbs. She shifted her weight, crossed her ankles.
“Are you undergoing psychological distress...?” asked the older nurse.
“Yes...” gasped Hal. “I’m very distressed...”
“These things are expensive,” said the senior nurse. “You wouldn’t have bought one unless you wanted this.”
“Body dysmorphia,” pronounced the Irish nurse. “Perhaps this is a palliative?”
Ping! Another nail in the coffin.
Hal flinched. A drop of semen squirted from his penis. “What else is there?”
“That’s it,” said the senior nurse. “You don’t meet the criteria. The budget doesn’t stretch to helping every pervert with buyer’s remorse and the legal situation is murky. I suggest you go and visit a locksmith.” She folded her arms. “Now, will you leave or do I call security?”
“Come on,” said the Irish nurse. “I’ll get you signed out.”
As they stepped aside for a two orderlies escorting a very drunk looking homeless guy with blood on his face, the nurse said. “You should be looking at her licker.”
“What? Whose?” asked Hal.
The nurse laughed. “Spelled like Grindr.”
“What?”
“Might as well make best of the situation,” she said. “Since it’s permanent.”
Another spurt of semen escaped his cock.
After working doing his shift in Café Aura, Hal tried to settle to sleep --- at least he still had somewhere to sleep, just, even though his little bedsit was a million miles from Miss Armstrong’s modern apartment with its designer furniture.
But now he was thinking about her and the triumphant glee in her green eyes.
He got out his phone.
But it was too late at night, and anyway she’d made it quite clear she wanted him to go away. I am not a loser. I don’t have to stalk women!
But he wasn’t going to get any action while locked like this.
A pair of dark eyes seemed to project themselves on the dark.
Of course. HrLckr.
It turned out to be not your normal dating site.
Hal read the patter --- all about verification and trust --- and skipped to registering, which required the QR code on his chastity device.
That gave him his own profile with the badges, “Neutered” “Unowned” and "Unverified". He called himself, LostBoy, and hit save.
There was a forum, but no way of viewing the other profiles, or the female users. Was the whole thing a scam?
A message popped up:
NightNurse: You found us!
LostBoy: How do you know it’s me?
He hadn't even filled in the rest of the profile.
NightNurse: LOL. Only a couple of new boys locally each day. What were the chances? Plus Neutered stands out.
Lostboy: A couple a day?
Lostboy: That’s a lot of a locked men.
NightNurse: The Public Health Emergency They Won’t Talk About. LOL.
Hal started to ask more questions, but the app pinged.
His status changed to, Unowned Verified Neutered.”
NightNurse: Saw you in A&E so can verify. You are now LIVE. Enjoy.
Lostboy: Thx I guess.
NightNurse: You need to come to me to get the Welcome Pack.
NightNurse: I’m just off shift. Come round now and you can give me seeing to as well?
Hal’s penis went off like an airbag. His hands shook. He stared at the screen. There was a little button marked, “See user reviews.” He clicked through.
There was a picture of night nurse looking sweet and normal, with red lipstick. She was, so it said, a Verification Officer, Keyholder and Moderator.
Her reviews scrolled past. “****Clean, good licker. Talks too much .... *Sloppy shaver. Could do with shower. Avoid. ... ***Good back rub, oral needs practice.... -Good oral but did not leave key at home. (USER BANNED).”
There was nothing... nothing from the male users. This entire operation was set up to give women the ability to use and rate chaste men the way you would car rides.
It was like standing on the edge of an abyss. It was also pretty much his kinky holy grail.
NightNurse: If UR too shy or gay, I’ll get somebody else. Byee.
LostBoy: Wait!
NightNurse: ?
LostBoy: No whipping. Still sore.
NightNurse: LOL. Not my bag. I’m a Virgo not a Virago.
LostBoy: OK. Where do you live?
NightNurse: Nurses' halls. I’ll pay your ride.
While you’re waiting for the next episode, why not read my first novel in the CARGO ‘verse, set 10 years after the act passed?
Giles,You never disappoint.fantastic read.Thank you for your Stories,they are so much fun.
Edward.