1: How Did I Get Here?
…The year was twenty fifty seven, crime had skyrocketed, the prisons were full, and space was needed for the more violent criminals. Society had already decided that coddling criminals didn't work, after a series of violent and grisly crime scene videos were released to the public; only when these kinds of things started happening to the wealthy and connected inside their gated communities - as they were the only ones with things worth stealing - did a true solution emerge. It had been no accident, the elites had wanted to cause such behavior, upend society, but they foolishly didn't envision that horror ever coming to their own proverbial neighborhoods…
Violent criminals suddenly got the heavy hand of the law instead of immediate release, and perhaps even a fast track path towards the gallows if their crime had been a capital one, but non-violent thieves and debtors got a slightly softer approach; not out of mercy though, but practicality. I was of the latter category, my "crime" of not keeping up with my bills was still a serious situation though, as those that I owed were also connected to the ruling class; they simply had all the money, and the interest rates on borrowed money was something akin to economic slavery. None of this was an accident, but the laws had been amended to only allow citizens in good standing the right to vote, or serve on juries, and "citizens in good standing" had legally been redefined as property owners without debt. In a stroke of the ruling classes' pen we once again had a "legal" two tier society, the weak and poor once again serving the wealthy in uncompensated fashion. They maybe didn't call it slavery, but it was de facto slavery nonetheless.
Anyway, if I sound bitter about all this it's because I've had a long time to ponder my lot in life, my particular crime being running up over one hundred thousand dollars in unsecured debt as a teen, and with the prisons full some other way to repay my debt to society had to be found, even though my "debt" was to an actual third party lender. Not paying one's bills - even if one couldn't afford to - had also been redefined, it was now considered theft, felony theft by deception to be accurate, and in this new awful world only one step removed from armed robbery. The wealthy jurors had no problem convicting one like myself, in their eyes it kept things as they should be, with an endless supply of "free" servants to serve, if not them directly, ones like them.
I had no family to bail me out, and my few friends were struggling just like I was, hence my expanding debt in the first place. Not eating all that much kept me thin though, and thin was in, as in I could perhaps moonlight as a sex worker to increase my income and settle my debts - sex for taxed cash was perversely enough made one hundred percent legal - except of course that I didn't want to. It's the one thing that I had left to my name, my virtue, and that just wasn't for sale.
Anyway, my arrest was a forgone conclusion - I didn't resist, and I could even tell that the cops just hated having to do this - as was the selling off of my meager possessions, but my time with the court supplied public defender went about as I expected, at least at first. "I could get you out of all this" the twenty something year old newly graduated lawyer-man had promised, with a certain look in his eye. Who could blame him, he was doing well just keeping eye contact with me, as all my possessions had been confiscated and sold off, to include every stitch of my clothing I owned. I had been caged like an animal along with others with much the same fate, but at least I was properly fed, and the jail guards hadn't taken advantage either, although they easily could have. Maybe they didn't like this either, or maybe they were just waiting for somebody far better looking than I?
I had been delivered to the closet sized room with the public defender like a murder, belly chained and cuffed behind my back, with hobbles on my bare ankles as well. There was no modesty to be found, but such was their intention anyway, to turn this human that I was into something less than those that would soon judge me; something less than human and easily scored. I would be brought into the courtroom exactly the same way - my public defender had informed me - and if the debts were proven mine, and no other restitution was possible, I would be at the mercy of the court.
"There is another option though," the seated man had offered.
Sex service, I thought, it's likely why nobody had taken advantage of me yet; they were saving me for something "special." Not to be arrogant or haughty or anything, but objectively I knew I was one of a few in the human cages that perhaps didn't look terrible in just her skin, as some of the girls in there with me looked like they weren't quite as hungry as had been.
"So what's your other option?" I asked cynically, suspecting that he already had a brothel lined up for me, maybe even getting a cut of the sale - or free use of the soon-to-be product - then using the proceeds from the brothel transaction to buy out and settle my debt; pennies on the dollar. Pretty much court sanctioned sexual slavery; but with a "signed under duress" contract, also now one hundred percent legal. The terms of such contracts were everything. I had done my research; three years of "normal" sex service was the rough equivalent of what I owed, or a single year of "anything one could imagine" filmed sex service instead. That option would be like a year in torturous hell - men had such awful imaginations sometimes, women too - but then I would be done with this terrible adventure; assuming of course I survived.
"Maid-bot programming, as in you'd be chipped and bar coded, and leased out to a wealthy family as a live-in twenty four seven domestic. You'd retain the experience, not that you likely need any, cleaning and making beds both skills easily mastered, but you'd also maybe take on the chef role as well, lawn maintenance too maybe. You'd end your service with good marketable skills, and you'd be debt free."
"How long?" I asked. The terms were everything; a year, or ten? I wasn't getting any younger here, and the first part of my life hadn't been all that much fun so far.
"The best terms I can get for you, but just looking at you I know you'd fetch top dollar." Here it is, my court appointed lawyer is actually my broker, selling me off to a brothel for a cut of the action, and I'm somehow the one naked and chained in jail; awaiting "justice!"
"Thanks. But I'm not interested in sex service, I could have gone that route myself last month, last year even, and then skipped all this fun here with you." I turned and shook my cuffed wrists behind my back as if to make my point. I had been standing this entire time, not only because sitting like this seemed difficult at best with the chain running between my wrists and my ankles, but also because there was no chair for me, only him.
"Simple then, we write the lease so it strictly prohibits any sex, it will mean longer terms, but if that's your desire I can make that happen too."
"What's in this for you?" I ask cynically, my life experiences to date tell me there's always an angle, especially with those in charge.
"Many of us don't like this any more than you probably do, but we can't save them all. In other words, I get nothing from this personally, other than helping out a fellow human being, and of course my meager salary. Not everybody gets this deal, it's kind of a new pilot program for those that look and act a certain way; consider this your interview."
"How much time do we have here?"
"About another fifteen minutes for you to decide, then it's either off to see the judge dressed as you are, so as to take your chances with the jury, or off to have your chipset installed and start your new adventure."
"What's your first name?" I ask.
"Anthony, why do you ask?"
I had been standing before Anthony this entire time by design, and other than to glance at my displayed nude body he's been mostly talking to my face the entire time. It's a pretty good trick, unless he's gay, or that happily-married that he doesn't even look. Why couldn't I meet guys like this?
I then go to my knees in the tight space between the wall and the cheap plastic table, looking up at him as he looks back down at me in shock.
"What the hell are you doing, Jackie?" he asks.
"Saying thank you, I'll take the maid bot option please."
"You don't have to do this, you know. For that matter, I thought you didn't like sex?"
"I like sex just fine, I just don't like to sell myself for sex; I'll give it to the right person if I want to, if I feel like it. You look stressed Anthony, this is like the worst day of my fricken’ life so far and you're the one who's stressed. Funny, isn't it, when you look at it like that? There's no cameras in here; are there?"
"No, attorney client privilege prevents them from looking in on us, it's why they pretend to have to chain you up like that, so I'll be 'safe' in here with you."
"Do you feel safe Anthony?" I ask with a smile while still looking up at him.
"No, not at all," he answers disingenuously with a smile before he stands, removing his suit's jacket and laying it on the table. I maybe wasn't sure a moment ago, with his lower half hidden from my view by the low table, but with him standing before me I can now see he's sporting a rather nice stiffy in his suit's slacks. Maybe he still has some reservations here, but his body obviously likes what I'm offering. Cuffed and belly chained behind my back I'll have to work at this a bit though, but I'm up for a challenge, apparently the last one for quite some time…
I playfully pull his zipper down with my teeth, and then fumble with his belt next, frustration perhaps spurring him on and he doing that for me. His pants and boxers are down around his ankles in a flash, his rather average endowment erect and pointing at me rudely. I tongue-kiss the head of him in greeting, slobbering it up while knowing I'll have to leave him squeaky clean so he doesn't print through his slacks later, embarrassing him unnecessarily. I work the head of him into my mouth like I'm savoring a favorite dessert, wondering how long it will be until I get the company of another man again. I love men, love what they can do; love what I can do to them too; I just don't have good taste in me in general, but that's a different story I suppose.
I'm looking up at him submissively, chained and helpless, and he's in turn looking up at the stained ceiling tiles, his hands in my hair and gathering it up towards the side of my head. His shirt tail is tickling my cheek on and off, but I plow through the distraction. I'm nursing on him like a babe on the bosom, but instead of getting something, I'm giving it instead, just to say thank you. I slowly pull back off of him with my lips tight, the pop when he pulls out of my mouth loud in the silent room. I repeat the move, only this time I drag my teeth along with my lips, and he groans.
I repeat the move over and over again, and I hold deep and suck, with him right at the back of my throat. He's gonna go, I feel it, I just love having this kind of control over a man. It's temporary I know, but wild while it lasts. He's trying not to be rough with me, making sure there isn't even the perception of force.
"Be rough!" I tell him around the cock deep in my mouth; up until now he was only holding my hair, not even pulling it. His hands then come in and hold my skull, and now I'm along for the ride… It's what I need, both the cuffs and being held firmly, feeling almost the same thing when the cops stripped and arrested me the other day. It's apparently what Anthony needs too though, because he erupts a moment later, and I drain every last precious drop from his man bits like I'm starving. After he finishes pumping off I draw everything I can get out of his deflated shaft, and he nearly collapses, he's so spent from my efforts.
"Thank you, that was magnificent," he tells me breathlessly.
"You're rather delicious Anthony, too bad we hadn't met under different circumstances. You don't happen to need a maid bot; do you?"
"I wish I could afford one…"
"I wish you could as well…"