Note:
This is a fiction-based story and all characters in this story are fictitious. It is about a life of a young man who immigrated to MANCHESTER and how he ended up signing his fate to the hands of various mature women he came across & how he become victim of their abuse and degradation in the bid for obtaining his right to live in MANCHESTER. Content is of Extortion, MATURE, FEMDOM theme. If this is not your cup of tea, then I suggest you do not read further.
The first part of the story has been published separately. This below is the continuation of the first part.
********************
Day at the chippy
Jimmy took his time recovering from the shock of what Mary had put him through. With the laundry basket in his hands, he moved like a man on autopilot, subconsciously fulfilling his duties. He washed her clothes mechanically, his mind consumed by disbelief. He couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened.
For the rest of the day, Mary left him alone, barely acknowledging his existence as he completed his tasks around the shop. Each time he passed her, Jimmy kept his gaze fixed on the ground, too humiliated and afraid to make eye contact. Mary, however, wore a constant smirk, clearly enjoying his discomfort. On occasion, she deliberately brushed past him, but she didn't utter a word.
As the day wore on, the shop neared closing time. Mary, excited about her plans for the evening, decided to close up an hour early. The whirring sound of the shutters rolling down echoed through the shop. At the back, Jimmy was peeling potatoes for the next day. He heard the shutters but paid little attention. Time had long since lost its meaning for him inside these walls.
The clinking of coins and rustle of notes broke the silence as Mary tallied the cash sales for the day. She was nearly finished when a sharp knock sounded on the shutter, followed by another on the side door that led to the flat upstairs. The voice that called out was definitely familiar--Pat, the widow from next door. Mary smirked and headed to open the door.
Pat was a 57-year-old widow with a fair complexion and ginger hair. She walked with the help of a wooden stick, her movements slow but deliberate.
"Come in, Pat," Mary called out with excitement, her voice practically dripping with energy. She swung open the door, ushering her friend inside. The moment Pat crossed the threshold, Mary swiftly locked the door behind her, ensuring they were alone as whatever Mary wanted to tell Pat begged privacy.
"Mary, I haven't seen that look on you for a long time," Pat said with a smirk, her eyes narrowing as she stepped further into the shop, scanning the familiar surroundings. "What's going on?"
Mary grinned with mischievness in her eyes. "Oh, you wouldn't believe it, Pat. It's been a... VERY interesting day."
Mary began recounting the events of the morning, sharing in vivid detail how she had caught Jimmy red handed sniffing her underwear and manipulated the situation to her advantage by taking pleasure in his vulnerability and forcing him to pleasure her pussy with his nose. She could feel herself getting worked up & feeling moist down below just talking about it, her voice becoming huskier as she recalled the whole scene.
Pat leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Oh my! Mary you naughty girl! That boy... he doesn't even know what hit him" she said, a chuckle escaping her lips as she spoke.
Mary smirked. "Oh, he'll know and he'll learn his new role." She glanced toward the back of the shop where Jimmy was still busy in the kitchen.
Pat leaned back in her chair, liting up a cigarette and taking a slow drag from it, the smoke curling around her like a cloud. "You've really got him where you want him, haven't you?"
Mary chuckled darkly. "You have no idea." She shot a quick glance toward Jimmy. "In fact, Iet me give you a demo of his obedience."
Without warning, she pointed sharply at the floor near Pat's feet, where a stain had clearly been left unattended and shouted. "Jimmy!" her voice sharp enough to make him flinch. "What is this? Didn't I tell you to clean this up earlier?"
Jimmy immediately froze in the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest. He had heard Mary's tone too many times to know it wasn't good. Slowly, he made his way into the seating area, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to look either of the women in the eye.
Mary glared at him, her eyes cold. "Do you see that?" she pointed at the floor "Do you see the stain? This should have been cleaned already."
Jimmy nodded quickly, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't see it."
"Oh, *you didn't see it*?" Mary's said in a mockingly. "That's not good enough. I told you to be thorough, Jimmy. Do you think I'm running some charity for immigrants here? No. Get a scrubbing cloth and clean that mess up. NOW!"
Jimmy's heart sank. He could feel the heat rising in his face as he turned to go back to the kitchen to fetch the cloth. Pat's gaze followed him the whole way, her eyes lingering like a predator watching it's prey.
When Jimmy returned, he knelt in front of the stain, with trembling hands he began to scrub. The humiliation of being watched, of knowing Pat was staring at him with those appraising eyes, was unbearable. He could feel his breath quicken, but he dared not stop or look up.
Pat took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she flicked some ash onto the floor near him purposely.
"Stop," Pat said suddenly, her voice calm but with a sense of authority. She took one final drag from her cigarette before crushing it out in the ashtray, her eyes never leaving Jimmy. "You're not cleaning that up? Why?"
Jimmy's face flushed deeper with shame. He could feel the weight of their gaze on him, like both women were waiting for him to make some mistake.
Mary folded her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "You've got one job, Jimmy. And this is what happens when you can't even do that right."
Pat leaned forward slightly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think he deserves another chance, Mary?"
Mary's eyes burned with frustration. "He *better* learn from this." She shook her head, her voice stern. "You're lucky I don't throw you out on the streets right now. If you had any self-respect, you'd clean every inch of this place properly without me having to remind you at all."
Jimmy's face burned with humiliation as he continued scrubbing, feeling the sting of their words like a whip. Pat's eyes never left him, and one could feel the tension in the room.
Jimmy finally managed to scrub the last of the stains and carefully wiped away the ashes Pat had so carelessly scattered across the floor. His knees ached from the hard tiles, and his hands were trembling from both exertion and humiliation. As he collected his cleaning cloth, ready to retreat to the kitchen, Pat stopped him with a sharp movement.
Her wooden stick slid beneath his chin, forcing his head up. The unexpected action startled Jimmy, and he instinctively froze, his wide eyes meeting Pat's piercing gaze. She tilted her head slightly, her expression a mix of disdain and amusement as she studied him.
