Chapter 2

David Beatson approached the open barred door to cell seventeen, hesitated, and stepped across the threshold. A naked young woman (young relative to himself, that is, over ten years younger than himself) sat at a laptop, but glanced round as he entered, stood quickly (but, he had to admit, gracefully) stepped away from the chair, and knelt, head down, arms folded behind her, her knees spread wide. He couldn’t keep his eye from sweeping across her, taking in full, firm, C-cup breasts, their nipples erect and swollen, down her body to rest on the pink, glistening, lips of her pussy.

It had been six years since his wife, younger son and daughter died in London. He’d never considered trying to remarry and satisfied his needs with occasional visits to Madame Anastasiya’s, monthly or bi-monthly. It being over a month since his last visit, inevitably he responded. He dragged his eyes away from the evidence of her arousal and tried to turn his mind away from his own.

“Virginia. Ginny...” her head lifted and her eyes met his for just a moment, but then dropped.

“I am IS29/17,” she said, quietly. “How may I serve you?” Her eyes fixed on the bulge in his trousers and, as her head was up, he could guess at what she was looking at.

“Stand for me,” he said, a request, rather than an order.

“Sir.” She duly stood, feet apart, arms still behind her back, tits out-thrust. She was the epitome of fit young women. Not grotesquely over-muscled, her toned muscles were evident, her legs and arms showing developed musculature, rather than being smoothly tapered. Her belly was flat, but showed the suggestion of a six-pack.

He sighed. “Magnificent.” Pause. “You are quite beautiful.” He walked around her, taking in the perfection of her body, in particular her rounded bottom. He stopped in front of her.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I am David Beatson. Do you know why I am here?”

“Major Prestwick said you were looking for apprentices to help you in your garage and to relieve you of your domestic needs. I know little of car maintenance, but am willing to learn. Regarding your housekeeping, I am considered competent in that respect.” She opened her mouth again, but hesitated and shut it.

“Was there something else you wanted to say?”

“Well, sir, if you want to give me a chance, I ... sir ... well, I ... all us trainees, we need sex, sir. We’re used to sex. A lot of sex.”

He held his hands, spread, in front of him. “Ginny ... I am not going to call you by a number unless in a legal setting ... look at my hands. They are as clean as they can be. Working on engines and car parts, it’s not possible to avoid ingrained grime. We cannot get latex or nitrile gloves. They are expensive and what is available goes to hospitals.”

“I understand, sir. I am not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

“Okay. Well, I need to talk to my son, and then interview your neighbour...”

“Before you go, sir, I’d really like you to fuck me...”

He stared at her, mouth open, as she cupped her tits – too firm to be lifted – turned and bent over the bed. His penis, already more than half-hard became trapped in his underwear. He had to adjust it in order to move at all. Whatever reservations he had fled. He released his straining organ, took two steps, and buried it to the hilt in her pussy.

It was ... curious. He stayed, fully embedded, and it felt as though her vagina was actually sucking him in as deep as he could be. It was ... a good feeling. Better than good. He caressed the globes of her bottom, then slid his hands up to cup and squeeze those delectable tits. She sighed, and he felt her vaginal muscles begin to massage him. Naturally he began to move, but withdrawing it felt as though her pussy didn’t want to release him. Five, at most, thrusts later he felt the unmistakable evidence of her orgasm, and emptied his balls into her.

Some noticeable time later – he’d had no wish to withdraw, but he softened and slipped out – she spun round, knelt, and took him in her mouth. She cleaned him up, released him and looked up. “Thank you Master. Thank you! Please, take me with you? Please?”

His immediate reaction was to say ‘of course’, but he restrained himself. He wanted to think about the experience, and he knew he should discuss things with his son. “I will certainly think about it,” he said, “and that’s not a rejection. I enjoyed that a lot.” He tucked his organ, thoroughly depleted, back into his trousers and turned to leave. But he turned back. She was still on her knees. “Stand for me, Ginny.”

When she obeyed, he took her head in both hands, kissed her gently, then turned and left, not noticing that she stood stunned, watching him leave.

Outside the cell, he was about to wait outside cell sixteen for his son, but he noticed one of the trainers walking briskly towards him.

“Good morning...” she hesitated, glanced at her watch, smiled, and went on, ‘just, sir. Major Prestwick asked me to invite you to have lunch here, as it’ll be arriving any moment now.”

“Thank you, Sergeant...”

“Brown, sir. But I’m Sandy except to the trainees.”

“Thank you, Sandy. That sounds like a good idea. I’ll just wait here for Harry, then come to the office?”

‘Yes, sir. I’ll tell the Major.”

As David entered cell seventeen to interview Virginia Popplewell, his son entered cell sixteen to interview Penelope (‘Poppers’) Linden. Penny had been an early admission to the Centre. She’d been a party animal, an embarrassment to her family. Her main source of excitement had been ‘uppers’ and hallucinogenics, and she had used her body as currency. By the time she’d entered the Centre, her body bore tattoos of varying quality over eighty percent of her skin. In the course of her first year (at the time, one year was a standard period for a Training Indenture) she had learned to enjoy sex, and to function effectively within the Centre environment. She had also had the tattoos removed. She had not shown a particular talent, and had not wanted to leave the Centre, so her family continued to pay the costs of her stay, though they were reduced as she no longer required a high level of supervision and in fact offset the costs by being paid for her work within the facility.

She was a more than adequate ‘housekeeper’ and sous-chef. With the removal of the tattoos, exercised and of a more normal weight, she was an attractive young woman. Slightly above average height, slim, she had B cup breasts, and a hip measurement to match. Her short brunette hair was glossy with health. Like her neighbour, her muscles were well defined, and she held herself well.

When Harry stepped into the cell, she turned away from the laptop she’d been consulting, saw Harry, and slipped off the chair onto her knees.

“May I come in?” Harry paused at the threshold.

“Certainly, sir. How may I serve you?”

“I’m Harry Beatson. My father and I run a garage, maintaining as well as we can the vehicles which are still operating in our messed-up society. We need help, even unskilled help, and we’ve been told you may be interested in working for us. Is this correct?”

“Hell, yes! Mister Beatson, I’d almost kill for a chance to do something useful in the real world. They’ve not been bad for me here, quite the opposite, but...”

“That sounds positive, anyway. Please get up. Where may I sit?”

“Sir, you’re a guest. Take the chair and I’ll sit on the bed.”

The bed was quite high. (Harry didn’t realise that was to position a woman at the right height for penetration). As a result, when he sat in the indicated chair, his eyes were not much above the level of her genitalia as she perched on the bed. Since she made no attempt to keep her legs tight together, he got a very good view of all her ‘assets’.

“So, Miss Linden. Do you prefer Penelope, Penny, or Sixteen?” He smiled to indicate that the latter was supposed to be humorous. His eyes were (after a thorough scan of her) fixed on hers.

“I don’t mind being Sixteen,” she said, seriously. “I’m officially ‘free’ so I get all sorts of variations, but people are in the habit of calling me Sixteen. I like Penny, actually.”

“Very well, Penny. I get that you want to, what? Do something useful out of here?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think I’m cut out for nursing, nannying, housekeeping, not as a career. Of course I’m willing to do what’s necessary about the house or whatever, just as I do here. But I am interested in how things work, you know. I went off the rails when I reached my teens. That was partly because of the way everything was screwed up. Women couldn’t get work except in ‘women’s work’.”

“I understand that. You’re not out of your teens yet, are you?”

She smiled. “No, sir. But it’s only a few weeks. Sir, I only heard last night about the chance of work in a garage. I’ve been chasing down everything I can find, but I know it’s not much. I’m not stupid, though, despite why I came to be here. If you take me, I promise to work hard to learn what I need. I promise. I really do!”

He held up his hands, palms toward her, the ingrained black grime obvious. “Doesn’t it bother you that your hands will be like this?”

She hesitated. “Not really. The only thing that would bother me is if it put you off fucking me.”

Harry was shocked – he really hadn’t expected such a blunt invitation. In fact, he hadn’t got as far as considering the sexual potential of any recruit. He, like his father, had made visits to Madame Anastasiya’s. Actually, his visits had been pretty consistently weekly. A regular sexual partner? Hmmm. “If I have sex with you, I won’t be looking at your hands, Penny.”

She smiled. “Not once you got started, no. Would you like a sample? I haven’t had any cock for a couple of days. I’m an afterthought nowadays.”

He stiffened in his trousers, and it was becoming uncomfortable. “Really?”

She slipped off the bed, onto her knees in front of him in one smooth move. “Absolutely.” Then, unfastening his trousers, fished his straining organ out, and began to fellate him. Any thought of stopping her had disappeared somewhere about the time her hand closed on him. Her mouth was warm and wet, and the suction considerable. Then, before his mind had really caught up, her nose was in his pubic hair and he was in her throat. It was just all too much and he came, hard. She drew back, looked up with a ‘cat that got the cream’ expression, and began to work on him to stop him softening. Gently, of course, at first.

He didn’t have a chance, really; she obviously knew exactly what to do. Once his erection was reestablished, she smiled up at him again. “Doggy? Missionary? Cowgirl?”

He cocked his head, considering her. “Cowgirl.”

She rose smoothly to her feet, took his hands to lift him to standing, and commenced to undress him, taking every opportunity to caress his body as it was exposed. At length, cock standing proud, erect and hard, he climbed onto the high bed and lay back. She followed, straddled him and lowered herself to impale herself with a sigh of contentment.

She was, obviously, very skilled. Her own movements brought her rapidly to a climax, during which she paused for several seconds while her belly and her internal muscles rippled. She then took his hands and placed them on her tits, encouraged him to squeeze, and began to move again. When she ramped up to a second orgasm, Harry saw no point in holding back and his own release filled her. She then lowered herself gently to sprawl on top of him.