Disclaimer: this is a work of fantasy and should be treated as such. Real rape is a heinous crime that deserves to be punished to the full extend of the law. If you do not recognize the difference between reality and fantasy, you also lack the maturity to read this story.
Changing of the guard
2076
He reached for the receiver of his desk phone and dialed the desired number from memory. A somewhat tedious task, especially with the rotary phones that just had made their comeback into popularity. But he stoically manage the task, because as a dutiful grandson he knew her number by heart and Granny didn’t allow her number to be written down anywhere, as she was concerned about it adding a trace to her whereabouts.
After what felt like an eternity, the connection came to live.
“Hello Benny.” Her voice was like a mountain stream, clear, bright and full of untapped power.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Who else would call me today? Aside from that not many people do have this number.”
“That’s sad to hear, happy 75th birthday Granny.”
“Nothing sad about it, most people are idiots and I’m better off without them. But I still very much appreciate you remembering my birthday.” Lady Penelope Thorpe replied. “How are you doing my boy. Hard at work or hardly working?”
“Most definitely the latter.” he laughed “You should have received the numbers for the quarter last week.”
“I did, and I’ll read them when I suffer from a pang of insomnia” he could hear her smile over the phone. “So far you have done a good enough job, so no need for reading those reports.”
“So I finally have convinced you?” hae asked only half mockingly
“You convinced me years ago.” no trace of mockery in her voice.
“But that wasn’t always the case.”
2071
Spring was in full bloom as he drove his roadster from Thorpe Hall towards London. He had put the top down and enjoyed the feeling of wind in his hair as the car shot over the country lanes, with the engine giving of only the slightest of whispers. The car was the recreation of a 1960 Corvette Roadster, bright red with white trim.
Embedding the entire country’s road system with energy lines had made it unnecessary for cars to be light and aerodynamic to conserve battery power. So there had been a renaissance of old fashioned car makes. Aston Martins DB5 was very popular with older men, but like many of his generation he preferred American muscle cars.
He was slightly irritated, as he had planned of spending the weekend of his birthday at Thorpe Hall, the old country estate that had been home to his family for centuries. Yet he had barely arrived when the Butler had informed him in a rather formal tone that “Lady Penelope, requested his presence at the main office, at his earliest inconvenience.”
Benny was pretty sure, that the instructions his Grandmother had given to Jenkins had been expressed a bit more strenuously. At his earliest convenience meant in his Granny’s mind right bloody now. But it had been primarily her that he had wanted to see this weekend, so he might as well get into the car and drive back to London.
The offices of Thorpe & Associates was located in Whitechapel, over the small and exclusive gallery that exhibited many of the artifacts sold by Thorpe’s. To this day he had never known who the associate might be, as his grandmother was running the business with an iron hand. She occasionally spoke about a man named Parker, so he might have been a partner in the business when she was younger.
He parked the car and strolled towards the entrance, where a burly man in crew cut and tailored suit, held the door open to him. Nobody asked him what he wanted, he might not be here often, but all of the employee’s knew Lady Penelope’s grandson by sight. With quick steps he marched down the gallery, not looking at the exhibits around him, he didn’t care for this artsy stuff, until he reached the Elevator. He had never understood why there was the need for an elevator, to just go one story up, but it was the only way to actually gain access to the offices.
He entered the mahogany paneled cabin, and it smoothly moved upwards, without actually paying attention to what he was doing he counted the 5 seconds the ride took. Upon arrival on the first floor he exited to a richly carpeted floor, dark green silk covered walls, massive oaken doors. This might look like the epitome of the long forgotten Gentleman’s club, but Benny knew behind those doors where offices equipped with all the modern amenities necessary to run a business in the 21st century. He walked towards the office his grandmother occupied, knocked and was asked to enter.
The office had a deep masculine flair to it. Bookcases with leather folios set into the paneled wall, a large oil painting of a sailing ship hanging over the fireplace behind the big wooden desk. The woman behind the desk should have looked out of place, yet she didn’t. His grandmother was 70 years of age, but could easily fool people in believing her to be 10 years younger. Her once blond hair had liberal amounts of silver thread through it, and Benny once again thought what a stunner she must have been when she was young. Now character had replaced the beauty in her face, but the blue eyes could still manage a mischievous twinkle. Or a rather stern glare, as she was giving him now.
“So nice of you to finally show up” her voice was exacting precision.
“Jenkins said at my earliest convenience, so I had thought about perhaps having lunch first.” He had decided long ago, that her bark was worse than her bite, and that she detested groveling.
“Poppycock.” yet she robbed the word the harshness by smiling. “How has my favorite grandson been?”
“Here I thought I was your only grandson, that what were your words lazy layabout?” he shot back.
“I admit there is rather little competition for you in this race. When will you graduate?”
“If the London School of Economics isn’t lowering their standard for me, another year. That is if I don’t find a way to fuck it up.”
“I have utter confidence in you.” Benny did notice that she hadn’t said in which part of his statement.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes I wanted to pick that brain of yours. How do you see the current political climate?”
“London, Britain or the world?” he asked intrigued
“Global”
He thought about the question for about a minute, not so much about what the answer should be, but on how to best present it. While his grandmother enjoyed banter, she hated poorly presented opinions. She insisted on clear and consistent argumentation without any filler.
“The assassination of President Berghoff, will cause massive unrest in North America. She was well respected and the only force that held her coalition of liberals and feminists together. There are speculations that the feminists might try to grab the power. During Berghoff’s reign, she had appointed many control positions with members of her political ally. Minister of Defense Ally Young, is supposedly exercising an unheard control over the North American armed forces. If she decides it is time for the feminist cause to be forcefully spread, it will get ugly.”
“How ugly?”
“There are forces in Britain, that strongly sympathize with the militant feminism spouting in North America. If they rise up, they will rise up in many countries Britain included.”
“Will they succeed?”
“I don’t know, there are many factors playing into it, but no I don’t think they will succeed. They will cause a lot of bloodshed and destruction but ultimately they will fail, and condemn their cause. Feminism as it is known today will cease to exist under the backlash.” He noticed his grandmother’s pensive gaze “Why do you ask.”
“Because I wanted to see if the money invested into your education was well spent or wasted.” in a quieter voice she added “Also because I didn’t like the conclusions that I arrived on when considering this topic. Regrettably they match your analysis.”
It was his turn to look bewildered. His grandmother had always been well informed on topics of world politics, yet he had never known her to involve herself in political analysis.
“Where does this leave us?” he asked.
“In the stage of contingency planning. What do you know about the business of Thorpe’s & Associates?”
“An old established dealer in arts and antiquities, but what has this to do with me?”
“Because I need you to take over the business.” she stated matter of fact.
He felt like she had punched him in the gut. “But I do not understand anything about arts or antiques. I majored in global economics, a choice of subject you have particularly encouraged.”
“Poppycock” her piercing blue eyes expressed a hardness he had rarely noticed before. “I know perfectly well, what you studied. After all it was me paying for it. Now be a good boy and shut up, while I clarify a few points.”
He felt stung being treated like a schoolboy and he was about to give her a piece of his mind, when he reflected that in a contest of stubbornness between a rock and his grandmother the rock stood no chance.
“So what am I missing here?”
“You don’t miss anything, but let’s say you have a rather incomplete understanding about our business. We are here to rectify this.”
“And you couldn’t have talked me through it at Thorpe Hall, over tea?”
Her eyes seemed to twinkle “We could have done that, but afterwards we still would have had to come here. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Let me show you our inventory. Please leave your wristcom here.” she got up and unstrapped her own personal communicator from her wrist letting it lie on the desk.
He followed her example, noticing how much more elegant and delicate hers looked next the the brutish design of his EX-5500, which was supposedly the latest and greatest. Benny felt almost naked without the gadget laden tool, that had been his constant companion. Like many people he rarely took it off, not even when sleeping.
His grandmother stepped rapidly to the door and he hurried to reach it before her to hold it open for her. Earning a smile “Thank you Benny.”
“You know most people are calling me Rupert nowadays.”
“I know, but that’s a twits name your father chose and your mother was to weak to object. I prefer Benny, but I assume when you will inherit the title Lord Rupert will sound more dignified.” There was a considerable amount of vitriol in her voice.
“I’d wish you wouldn’t speak like this about my parents.”
“I stop as soon as they do something that convinces me it’s not justified.” her tone now matter of fact.
They stepped into the elevator, his grandmother playing with a locket she wore and the elevator began it’s silent but steady descent.
As the ride was approaching the five second mark he stepped towards the door, in anticipation of their opening. Yet they remained firmly shut.
“Is there a problem with the elevator, it is running slow today.”
He had barely finished that sentence as the doors opened and he prepared to step into the plush sales room of the gallery.
To his absolute surprise he stepped instead into a concrete hallway, dark blue steel doors sealing the corridor. It was an utter utilitarian look, nothing of the subtle luxury of the gallery or the offices. His thoughts were racing until he was coming to a conclusion, this must be a level below the actual gallery, likely the storage for the artworks currently not on exhibit. It made sense to have them in a secured place.
“Our warehouse I presume” he put as much stiff upper lip into the sentence as he could. “But why did the elevator go so much further today?”
“It will only ever reach down here, from the office level, and only with a special authorization by the Boss.”
Benny looked startled at the last word “And who’s the Boss.” it was such an unlikely word for his grandmother to use.
She laughed “Me of course, Parker used that particular common word to disguise my identity, whenever he deemed it necessary. Which to be quite honest was most of the time.”
“He must have been a character.”
“A diamond in the rough, his death was a severe loss to me. He was running the day to day business when I was about your age, but his biggest trouble was trying to reign in my own escapades. He was such a stuffy old teddy bear.”
She gestured towards the door, and again he held it open for her. The sight behind it was truly bizarre. He had expected shelves with dusty crates holding unsold merchandise. Instead he saw to burly men, manhandling a naked redhead into some kind of metal grid. Her head was poking out through a metal yoke and her wrists being fixed to shoulder height. The posture caused her impressive chest to be pushed even more forward. The men now grabbed her kicking legs and fixed them to a spreader bar that was attached with a vertical rod to the yoke. He decided to rush to her aide as he heard his grandmother’s voice.
“Welcome to the true T&A, purveyors of the most exquisite specimens in female flesh for over 300 years.”
He turned around and stared at her with wide eyes.
2076
Settling more comfortably in his chair he tapped with his finger between his legs.
The next sensation was her warm breath, as she nozzled her face between the folds of his robe. If she found the odor of his sweat or cock displeasing she had learned to keep her tongue in check, but not inactive. Said tongue probed and licked until his manhood took the desired form and she began sucking in earnest.
He quickly glanced down and saw the light brown hair in his crotch. Her name had been Kendall or Allison or something else. A young woman with dream and ambitions, but like her name he didn’t care about that either. Right now she was undergoing training as office furniture. There were four clamps underneath his desk, holding her wrists and ankles tightly in place. holding her in a permanent kneeling position, breasts swinging freely and the head always the same level as his cock. The clamps holding her wrists on the level of her shoulders would have entirely sufficed in restricting her movements. But the psychological effect of her knowing that her ass and sex were facing the door, and it would be the only thing visible of her was invaluable in the education.
On his personal ABC scale she fell on a B. B as in bouche, OK it was a bit of a stretch having to use the french word for mouth, but also very apropos.
New merchandise all started at A, meaning their only use was an endless stream of anal rape until they believably begged them to be allowed to suck dicks. Which increased them to B, but any infraction, no matter if it was lack of performance, skill or attitude was immediately punished by withdrawal of this privilege. They could and still would be taken anally, but those bitches fought for the chance of being allowed to offer another hole to their tormentors.
C of course stood for cunt, and by the time they had earned the opportunity for being used in that particular orifice they had been completely broken. Eager to please, well versed on satisfying a man with every fiber of her body. Just like the current cocksucker believed she did. Benny felt she could use more tongue to his balls, perhaps a very big butt plug for the night would encourage her to rethink her technique. He rested his hand affectionately on the bag of her head. Causing her head to slide even further forward, accompanied by the gagging sounds coming from her.
He liked the desperate effort the bitches put in once their noses where pressed against his body and they were running out of air. At the same time he continued his conversation on the phone.
“The new line of office furniture is getting rather popular, we have more orders than we can immediately fill.”
“That’s lovely to hear, I had worried with the change in political climate the business would die.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you, the abundance of desperate bitches, offering their services for a pittance has created undesired competition. So branching out in nontraditional ways, like this carpentry is paying off. Our head of product development had proposed a new conference table.”
“I didn’t think, people still had face to face meetings. All of the dealings turning to the online realm.” He heard the doubt in her voice.
“A lot of them have. But with women no longer being in the business world the men have gotten more raunchy again. The proposed table sits six, with room for a slave at each of the seats. Pretty much a larger version of the executive desk. Development said that using it gets their creative juices flowing better than ever.”
“I’m sure it gets some juices flowing, not so sure I would call it creative. I’m still not fully convinced but if you are going for it go big. Mahogany rather than oak. Offer the software as well as the table. The business men in the new African nations, will prefer white women either former colonizing nations or North Americans.”
“Know your customers, I know you keep on telling me.” he sighed.
“Just because it sounds trite, doesn’t make it any less true.”
2071
Benny’s eyes flew open, sure he had misheard. His prim and proper grandmother hadn’t just stated that she was in the slave trade. Yet he was standing in a room where a naked woman was fighting against her being restrained.
He felt a hand softly touching his chin, shutting his mouth.
“What do you find so surprising? That there is such a thing as white slavery? That there is a busy market for slaves? Or that the family is involved in it, making you an accomplice after the fact?” Her voice was mild, but she wasn’t making any apologies.
It took a moment for him to compose himself before he answered meekly. “All of it” before being more forceful “Bloody hell, this is the second half of the 21st century, not the 17th.”
“There are some things that endure time. I have been about your age when I had to take over the company after my fathers untimely death. Admittedly it was a bit of a shock, when my own grandmother was explaining me where the family wealth came from. I have been doing this now for almost fifty years, and found early that I actually enjoyed the life.”
“I don’t believe I understand”
“Let’s say I had a desire for the extreme, rough sex, high stakes plotting and the scheming necessary to keep ahead of the competition. Men believe just because you are a women, you won’t be as ruthless as them. For almost 22 years, people believed that Parker had been my iron fist. And he was excellent in keeping that impression. After his death, a competitor tried to strong arm me.” Her face was wistfully
“What happened?” Benny asked
“Somebody tried to invade my territory, steal my employees undercut my prices and sabotaged the operation. It took some doing to finish him.”
Benny looked at his usually kind looking grandmother with entirely new eyes. “What did you do?”
“I’ll tell you the story another time, but once we were done he told me that he had made a mistake, Parker actually had been the velvet glove to my fist. It was very satisfying.” She smiled before continuing “But we have other business to attend to. Follow me.”
They went into another room, entirely bare of furniture, except for a steel drum in one corner and a metal hook hanging down from a chain on the ceiling. As well as a large bundle of clothes on the floor. Or so Benny thought, but as the steel door closed noisily behind them the bundle moved.
what he had mistaken for discarded clothes turned out to be a rather pretty young woman. Chestnut brown hair falling onto her shoulders, the fabric of her blouse stretching promisingly over her chest. Her eyes where startling blue, and filled with tears. He couldn’t see anything of her legs as they were hidden beneath an ankle length peasant style skirt. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. The moment she saw him she began pleading.
“Au secours Monsieur”
“She is French?”
“Rule #1 never collect merchandise around your base of operation. So nobody out of London, or the south of England in general.”
Hearing them speak caused the woman to change her pleading “Help me, Monsieur. Please.” her accent was very charming.
“Why did you bring me here.” Benny asked
“Because this is not a situation where I want to let a child loose in the candy story. I intend to turn over the candy store that secures out livelihood to said child. I need to know if you can handle it.”
“So this is a test?” Benny wondered aloud.
“All life is an endless test. But this is going to be a crash course on what this job entails. You will never be on the recruiting side of the business, but evaluating merchandise is something you will have to be able to do. So what do you think.”
“She is rather pretty, good tits I think. Wouldn’t mind dating her.”
“Men.” His grandmother sighed “Show them a pair of tits and their judgment is gone. But let’s start their, why do you think she got good tits?”
“I like what I see.” Benny was on the defensive
“Do you have x-ray vision? How do you know she hasn’t stuffed her bra with socks, that her tits are not flapping down? There is only one way to make an assessment, check the goods upon close.”
He bent closer towards the bound woman. As he heard his grandmother from behind “Off with her blouse, you are making an assessment, not asking her for a dance.”
With fingers trembling from excitement he began to unbutton her blouse, on button at a time. Revealing a cream colored lace bra that held a pair of heavy breasts. He cautiously cupped a feel, they felt as good as he had imagined they would.
“Just take your time, I have no other plans till Christmas.” his grandmother’s voice was acerbic.
But encouraged to go on he reached behind her back and unhooked the bra, allowing it to drop and freeing the pear shaped fleshy globes tipped by big brown nipples. They did indeed sag a bit, but that was to be expected by such big breasts. Curious he grabbed the bra and searched for the label 32 DDD now that was something he didn’t see every day.
Something hard touched his shoulder and he saw the pair of heavy scissors his grandmother was handing him.
“Discarded clothes go into the drum.”
He took the scissors and and with a few strategic cuts the blouse and bra fell of her body completely. As he got up to throw the clothes into the drum, he became aware that he was aroused. A small fire was burning inside the drum, and her garments became a victim to the fire.
“Let me guess I can’t assess the rest though her clothes either?” He grinned like a boy.
Not even waiting for an answer he began cutting of her skirt, the tennis shoes and socks, ignoring the constant shouts of “Non” or “No”, until she was only wearing a pair of cream colored panties, she had been wearing a matching set. Two further snips and they were a matching set of refuse. Every piece of clothing was burned and he could see something dying inside her with more and more of her past going up in flames.
Her mons pubis was covered by a dense patch of light brown curls. Covering the entrance to her sex.
“I should have guessed she was sporting a wooly mammoth. That will have to come of before auction. The only beavers worth preserving are redheads and natural blondes. Sometimes Japanese buyers will pay more for a furry snatch.”
“Rule #2 Thorpe’s and Associates do not sell virgins. My father had installed this rule to keep the pedophiles away, it also cuts down on our surveillance measures. I assume you know what to check for?”
“Yes grandmother, I do could I have perhaps 30 minutes privacy?”
“Take as long as you want, but as a piece of good advice, don’t put anything in her mouth that you can’t live without. She is a biter. I can tell. See me in my office when you are done. Somebody will come to pick her up.”
About 45 minutes later Benny knocked at the office door, feeling immensely satisfied. She had been a good fuck, and he could assure his grandmother certainly no virgin anywhere, at least not any longer.
“I assume you found some interest in what we are doing here?” she asked cooly.
“I would have never believed it possible that I could do such a thing. But it was very liberating to do what I please without having to think about the consequences. I guess that is how customers feel about the whole slave deal.”
“Now this might have been the smartest thing you have said all day.” she agreed with him.
“May I ask why now?”
“Because my sources in government have given me to understand that if the feminist revolt occurs, and the experts agree with both our assessments, they will implement harsh new laws to prevent reoccurrence.”
“What does this entail.”
“Unmarried women, will not be able to hold office or own businesses or property in general.”
“That sounds somewhat radical. I can’t see the Queen signing this law”
“It is, but I’m afraid there will be pressure on Victoria II to sign it. Only for her to learn that this will have implications for her own reign as well, she is unwed.”
“But she is very popular.”
“Mark my words by the end of the year she will have abdicated for a male relative. But I’m not concerned about the well being of the Queen, I’m concerned about myself. I’m a widow so will fall under the category of unmarried. I can’t transfer the business to your mother, because that would put it under the wise control of your idiot father, I set fire to the place first.”
Ben felt stung by the words against his parents but deep down he agreed with her.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Once the shit hits the fan, I will transfer the business, Thorpe Hall and the title to you my grandson. And then I’ll vanish, Lord Rupert Benjamin Nicklebrook how does this sound?”
“Hideous, the way you pronounce it. I think I’ll go with Thorpe instead, the title allows me that choice.”
She beamed at him “I wholeheartedly agree.”
—
Three months later the revolt had occurred and after a lot of bloodshed both in Britain and North America, the government of both regions announced a new set of laws. The newly minted Lord Thorpe stood on the lawn of Thorpe hall and watched the big green transport flying away southwards.
His grandmother and many of her unmarried female employees were aboard, with as much of their possessions as possible. She hadn’t been able to convince all of them but twelve other women had recognized the signs and joined Lady Penelope, on the long trip to Tracy Island. None of his efforts to locate that place on any map had been successful. But she had left him a phone number with the advise to memorize it.
The new laws were as draconic as his grandmother had feared. In North America a congresswoman had tried to speak against it, but had been raped right at the lectern, while C-SPAN kept on filming it.
Victoria II abdicated the throne to her cousin, tears filling her eyes as she gave the televised speech. Conspiracy theories crept up that, she had been forced to wear a butt plug during that speech. Benny didn’t give it to much credit there where always weirdos out there.
2076
“Out of curiosity where are you calling from?” his grandmother asked
“The North American facility.”
“2112 Division Street?”
“That’s the place.” he confirmed
“It was such a charming little house, when we bought it. Of course it was the basement that had caused our interest. absolutely perfect for having a local warehouse in that area. I still recall the former owner, he was looking at me in such a peculiar fashion. I must have been 27 years at that time. Parker shot him some very nasty looks. But that’s all that ever happened. Is it still the same house?” Her voice was full of reminiscence
“Regrettably not the house burned down during the riots, we built the new house on the ruins, but you will be glad to hear that the basement was still fully functional, your friend has invested very well in good craftsmanship.”
“Yes he was that kind of a man, a bit peculiar in his taste in art, but a perfectionist in whatever he started.”
“How is the island live?” he inquired
“We had a spot of bother a few days ago. Some pirates seem to have heard there was an island with some women on it. They decided to come for a visit.”
“What happened, anybody hurt.”
“Nobody of us, we saw them coming and retreated to the bunker. The leader of the pirate send a wave of his men after us. Once the dust had cleared he made the foolish assumption that all the mines had been now cleared along that path. So he ordered another massive attack along the same path. Clean up will take a while. Would you be so kind and order me another 100 claymores?”
“100? You must be the largest private owner of claymore mines in the world.”
“Well they do get the job done.” she said.
“Grandmother may I ask you a question?”
“Another one you mean?” he could hear her smile
“That woman five years ago, my first business contact. Was she chosen at random? She just coincidentally had all the aspects I love in a woman.”
There was a moment of silence on the other side of the line before she answered “Do you think I’m that careless? I had seen the string of girlfriends you had brought along over the years, all of them brown haired with large knockers. I wanted your lust to flare up, so that you would engage in the business at hand.”
“You manipulated me.”
“Let’s say I know my customers” she laughed and hung up.
Benny Thorpe looked at the brown hair in his lap as he blew his load down the slave’s throat. His grandmother had a point he decided.
The END.
