Jacqui - Space Waif
Copyright© 2010 by Charm Brights
Chapter 1: A New Life
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1: A New Life - Jacqui's life was hard as an orphan born in 2093. She went to a number of jobs which she mostly lost for petty theft, or refusing to co-operate with her boss. Along the way she learned to enjoy spanking. Eventually she ended up in jail with a three month sentence for petty theft
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Rape Coercion Blackmail Slavery Heterosexual Science Fiction Post Apocalypse Space BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Spanking Rough Humiliation Sadistic Torture Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Food Caution Violence Prostitution
Bright and early next morning Jacqui set off for her first day at the new job; her first job. She wondered how it would go, and whether she would like the people in the company. Lacking a family life, she had never really had any friends, nor had she ever had to fend for herself. Thus she was very nervous about the company, and her new boss. The letter said she was to report to Miss Alison Drew and Jacqui thought, with mild relief, that meant she would be working for a woman.
The Call Centre seemed bright and cheerful and everyone was very busy. She had to wait nearly half-an-hour before anyone came to see her, and then it was a young boy with a spotty face, almost as young as Jacqui she guessed, who said, "Come on, I haven't got all day."
"Where are we going?" asked Jacqui, expecting to be told that she was going to meet Alison Drew.
"Up to your cubicle," came the startling reply, and the young man relapsed into silence.
"Am I not supposed to see Miss Alison Drew?" she ventured.
"You don't want to do that," said the young man determinedly, "You only see her if you are to be sacked."
Soon they arrived at a floor full of tiny cubicles separated by six foot high partitions. Each had a chair, a videophone and a tiny table, on which stood the inevitable computer terminal.
"What you do, see, when somebody rings up you ask what's wrong and key it in. Then the computer tells you what to tell them," explained the youth, "You'll soon get the hang of it." As he said that he moved away.
"Wait, please," asked Jacqui, thoroughly scared now, "How do I switch it on, how do I answer calls and how do I know when to stop?"
"You sit down and it's working, you don't do anything to answer calls and you go for a break or go home when the screen tells you. It knows who you are, what you do, and how long for, already." With that startling reply the young man vanished round the nearest corner.
Jacqui sat down nervously and the 3V sprang to life with the picture of a man in his mid-thirties. She barely had time to take in the shock of rich brown wavy hair and the small eyes, too close together, with a largish nose before he started to speak.
"Ah, Jacqui; you are with us at last. I was told you were arriving at nine o'clock and it is gone half past. Where have you been?" he snapped; not pausing for a reply, he continued, "Never mind your excuses. I expect Johnny has told you what to do, so get on with it."
As his image faded, Jacqui noticed that the caption on the screen read Craig Wilson, Supervisor and she felt that he looked like a rat wearing a wig. So this is the man for whom she was working.
Then the screen lit up and a distraught looking woman appeared on the screen saying, "The 3V won't change to the children's programmes. Can you fix it?"
Simultaneously the computer gave her the user's name and address, and the information that she was behind in her taxes and the 3V was only running on official news channels until she paid. Jacqui was just framing a way to say this politely when a script appeared on the screen to tell her what to say:
I'm sorry, Thelma, it is all a terrible mistake in the Government Service Office. We can't fix it from here, but if you talk to GSO 681, G — S — O — 6 — 8 — 1 they can fix it for you.
Jacqui repeated this and the woman burst into tears.
"They say I owe them a lot of credits, but I don't. Can't you fix it?"
Again a script:
I have talked to them myself and they say that if you talk to GSO 681, G — S — O — 6 — 8 — 1 they can fix it for you.
Jacqui repeated this and the screen faded.
Then it came up again with Craig Wilson's face with a broad smile that seemed to have been pasted on his face.
"Well done, for a first effort. Now you seem to have got the hang of it, I'll let you get on with it. Any questions, don't hesitate to ask," and he faded as she tried to ask him whether the computers always gave the answer, and if so why she was needed.
A few seconds later an elderly man came on the screen complaining about the quality of programmes. The scripted reply ran:
I know you think there were better programmes years ago, but there weren't. Your ideas have matured as you have lived your life and you now look for more depth in the programmes than you used to. If you add our five more sophisticated "Upper Channels" as we call them, you will find that the 3V is much more interesting to a gentleman such as yourself. They only cost another few credits a month and I can connect you to them now. Does that seem the right answer to you?
The old man wavered and said "Well it might be the answer." The screen display changed to show that he now had the extra channels and that his bill for 3V had more than doubled. Jacqui was horrified but managed to mumble the next script:
Only another few credits a month and I have connected you to them. Do you want to try them and see if it makes things better?
The customer's reply was, "Well, it might; but it might not." Jacqui started to tell him how much it was going to cost him when the screen cut off abruptly and Craig's face appeared again, this time without the smile.
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