And for All

Justice Ch. 05: And Justice For All

Although this story can be read on its own, I suggest you read the first four parts of this series to get the full context of what is happening here.

I would like to thank all those who took time to beta read this. In my opinion, their suggestions have helped make this a much better story! I also want to thank those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

Derek Smith sat in the heated outdoor area of the small pub in his usual seat, nursing his beer as he thought about the current state of his life. He would liked to have been inside, but the 14-year-old smoking ban prevented that, much to his chagrin. At least he wasn't in Manchester anymore, where even this was no longer allowed, he thought.

Having completed his twice-weekly run to London, a task that took up much of his day, Derek was on his way home from work. He was able to schedule the drive south at night so he could avoid much of the traffic on the M1. Early the next morning, he would return after a few hours sleep, but it still took a lot out of him. After making the three-and-a-half hour trip back north, he turned his vehicle over to the dispatcher and headed home, stopping for a pint and a smoke on the way.

Thanks mostly to his wife of six years, Cynthia, who worked in the clerical section of the company, Derek began driving for Acme UK about five years ago, He thought about his life with Cynthia and wondered what would become of them.

He had known the feisty redhead for most of his life, and the two of them fell in love during their final year in school. While Cynthia went to university, he got a job driving for another local company. They married after she graduated, and she was recruited to work at Acme. A year later, she suggested he drive for Acme, so he put in his application.

He was offered the position at the interview and was shocked when they offered him three times what he had been making for the same work. The only thing that concerned him was the 10-year employment contract. He had never heard of such a thing, but figured that having job security for at least the next ten years was worth it. Cynthia told him the main company in the States usually had their employees sign on for life -- something they had picked up from the Japanese. So he signed on.

Between what the two of them now made, they were able to buy a home in Sheffield. Granted, it was a bit small, but it was fairly new and decked out with all the modern appliances. It also had a fairly nice garden, which he liked. Better yet, it was closer to where they worked.

Having been born and raised in Manchester, it took him a bit to get used to the dialect in Sheffield, but he eventually got the hang of it. Things were going well for them and they even discussed starting a family.

That got put on hold about three months ago, however, when Cynthia announced she was being considered for something called the Executive Support Team. He had never heard of that, so he asked her about it. Her answers were, to say the very least, vague.

"As the name implies, it's a team that provides support to the company's executives," she said.

"But what kind of support?" he asked.

"Well, whatever the executives need to get their job done." Realizing he wasn't going to get a straight answer from her, he dropped it. But he still had concerns. Then, about a month later, she came home and announced that she had been accepted.

"Not only do I get a major rise in pay, but so do you," she exclaimed.

"Me?" he asked. "I'm glad to hear that, but why would I get a rise for your promotion?"

"As compensation," she said. "The job requires a fair bit of travel, so this is the company's way of thanking you for my time away from home."

"How much travel are you going to be doing?"

"It could be extensive, depending on the projects," she said. "In fact, I'll be in London for training for three weeks. I'm scheduled to go down this Friday."

"Three weeks? That's an awful long time," he said.

"There's a lot to learn," she said.

"Well, I do have my runs to London. Maybe I can swing by and we can see each other for a bit while I'm there," he said. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm afraid that won't be possible. I've been told the training is quite rigorous, and the company doesn't want me to have any distractions," she said.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "What about weekends?"

"The schedule is quite full," she said. "Especially weekends."

"I see. Will you at least be able to ring me now and again?" he asked, not liking what she had told him.

"I'll do what I can. I've been told that I won't be allowed to carry my mobile everywhere, but I should be able to call you once a week," she said.

"Once a week? That's it? That's crazy," he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, dear. Those are the rules. There's nothing I can do about it," she said.

"Yes, there is," he told her. "You can refuse the assignment."

"No, I can't do that," she said. "I've already been accepted onto the team. If I tell them no, we could lose everything and end up on Antarctica or something."

"I don't like it," he said. "Not one damn bit."

"I know, and I understand," she said softly. "I don't like it either, but it'll be okay. Trust me. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah, I trust you," he said, taking her in his arms. "I just don't like being away from you. You're my life and I love you, you know that?"

"I know, and you're mine as well. I love you too and I'll make it up to you. Promise," she said.

Those were the hardest three weeks of his life. Cynthia did contact him -- one time each week for a five-minute chat -- hardly long enough to say anything of any merit. Yes, he liked seeing the extra money in his pay, but that hardly made up for the empty bed he slept in every night.

Nor did it make up for the lonely weekends. Bored and despondent, he went to Meadowhall, a massive shopping center just north of the city center, and window-shopped for a bit, stopping long enough to grab a burrito at a restaurant in the Lower Oasis Dining Quarter.

Cynthia finally returned home after her three week stint in London. She seemed invigorated by the experience, but he also noticed some changes. For starters, her pubic area was completely shaved, something she had never done before. She practically jumped on his face that night in bed, grinding her wet, shaved crotch on him as he ate her out.

He also noticed a difference when he entered her. She seemed more lubricated than before, but there was something else -- she didn't feel quite as tight as she did before her three-week trip. She rode him hard that night, almost as if she was out to fuck him to death. After he came inside her, she got on all fours and for the first time ever, offered her ass to him.

"Fuck my ass, baby," she moaned. "Make me yours." He thought she was already his, but he wasn't about to deny her. She produced a tube of lube, which he happily used at her direction. He was afraid he might hurt her with his somewhat larger-than-average cock, so he took it slow and easy. But she wanted none of that.

"Do me, hard and fast," she said. "Fuck me good and hard." He couldn't help but wonder what happened to make her this way, but he didn't complain and did as she asked until he filled her with his seed.

"What got into you?" he asked as they lay in each other's arms afterward.

"Are you complaining?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Not at all. I've just never seen you like this before," he said.

"I've missed you so much," she said. "And I wanted my return to be special for you."

"It's certainly that," he said. For the next couple weeks, Cynthia seemed to be gone more than she was home. He had no idea what she was doing, and she volunteered nothing of substance. Then one day, she came home and informed him they were invited to an executive dinner that night at the home of Graeme Barton, the CEO of Acme UK.

"I'm invited as well?" he asked, somewhat surprised to hear the CEO would invite a lorry driver to an executive function.

"Of course," she said. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of renting a dinner jacket for you."

"You rented a dinner jacket?" he asked.

"Of course. I've been buying clothes for you for six years now. I think I know all your measurements," she said, palming his crotch with a wicked smile. "Now, why don't you go take a shower and start getting ready. We need to be there at 6:30." He smiled back.

"On my way," he said. He showered, dressed in the dinner jacket she rented for him and gasped when he saw the tiny black dress she wore. It was backless and the front was held up by a strap that went around her neck. It was quite short, revealing her beautiful long legs.

"You look good enough to eat," he said. "Why don't we stay home and I'll just eat you instead." She smiled at that.

"Down, boy," she said. "Maybe later, if you're really good." They left and drove to Graeme's large home. He was amazed at the sheer size of the place. Handing the keys to a valet, he escorted Cynthia inside, where they were met by a large muscular man, also dressed in a dinner jacket. Derek recognized him straight away as Graeme Barton.

"Mr. Smith," he said with a warm smile. "I'm so glad you and your lovely wife could join us tonight," he told Derek as they shook hands. "Please, come in and make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Mr. Barton," Derek said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Oh please, call me Graeme," the CEO said. They entered the large room, where several executives had already gathered with what Derek assumed were their spouses. A somewhat tall, attractive woman appearing to be in her mid-30s walked up to them.

"Cynthia, it's so good to see you again, darling," she said with a smile. "And this must be your husband," she said, turning to Derek. "I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," she added, extending her hand. He took her hand and shook it.

"Derek, this is Jan Stein," Cynthia said. "She's the head of the Executive Support Team and one of my mentors in London."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stein," he said with a smile.

"Please, call me Jan," she said, returning his smile. "Oh, I believe dinner is being served," she said, looking off to the side. Derek and Cynthia saw the others going into another room and followed them. Sitting down at their assigned places, they enjoyed the food that had been set in front of them. When the meal was finished, everyone stood.

"I think it's time we all got to know the newest member of the Executive Support Team a little better," Graeme announced to the group. Everyone smiled and began leaving the room. Cynthia turned to leave and Derek turned to join her, but Graeme held him back.

"Mr. Smith," he said quietly. "Or may I call you Derek?"

"Derek is fine, sir," he said.

"Derek, then. Why don't you join me in my study for a moment." Derek looked up and saw Cynthia looking back at him. She nodded her head and turned to continue where she was going. Confused, Derek turned back to Graeme.

"Alright," he said. The two men went into another room and Derek closed the door when they were inside.

"This won't take long, Derek," Graeme said. "I feel that it's time to fill you in on what is happening here tonight. As you know, your wife is the newest member of the Executive Support Team."

"I already know that, Mr. Barton," Derek said.

"Do you know what it is the team does, Derek?" Graeme asked.

"Cynthia said it's to provide whatever support the executives need."

"Indeed. But there's more to it than that. She will provide whatever services the executives need -- or desire, if you know what I mean. And she will provide those services at any time, day or night."

"I'm not following you, sir," Derek said.

"Derek, you're a smart man. I'm sure you can figure out what services your wife will be providing. In fact, she's getting ready to... service... the executives right now. They're just waiting for my arrival. As CEO, I reserve the right to be first in line, so to speak," he said. As Derek listened, it hit him what Cynthia was expected to do. He looked at Graeme, shocked.

"Wait. You're going to have sex with my wife?" he asked.

"Of course," Graeme said. "And so are the others. When we're finished here, we'll take her with us to some of our satellite locations and introduce her to the executives there. We may decide to tour some of the facilities on the mainland." Derek looked at him, his anger building. He clenched his fists.

"You can't do that," Derek said.

"It's too late," Graeme said. "Your wife has already consented to this."

"You mean, she knew about this from the beginning?"

"Of course she knew. I know this is a bit of a shock to you, and I understand how you feel. That's why we've authorized an additional raise in your salary. The board has also agreed to pay your Council taxes for as long as your wife services us," Graeme said.

That was only around 1,800 pounds a year. Sure, 1,800 pounds was 1,800 pounds, but looking at the opulence of Barton's mansion, it seemed a mere pittance compared to what he was expected to give up. Part of Derek's dazed mind knew he would never sell Cynthia's virtue for any amount, but looking around, the 1800 pound per annum sum was like adding insult to injury.

"What if I decide to get a divorce?"

"That would be most unwise, Derek," Graeme said. "For both you and Cynthia."

"Why? Would you sack us?" Graeme snickered at that.

"No, your employment contract precludes that. But I assure you that after the two of you arrive at your new posts, you would wish we sacked you. Besides, there are other considerations. A lot of bad things can happen on the M1, especially at night. And there's also the possibility that items may go missing from your load. Perhaps end up in your home, or in your mother's flat in Manchester." The large black man looked at Graeme, shocked. "Yes, I know you visit your mother there periodically. A rather remarkable woman, if I do say so myself."

Derek agreed with Graeme's assessment of his mother. She arrived in England as a young girl in the 1950s when her parents emigrated from the Caribbean. They worked in the mills in Lancashire and saved up enough so she could attend university, the first of their family to get a higher education. That's where she met her husband, and the two of them settled down in Manchester where they raised their family. And now, this bastard was threatening her. He felt his blood boil and his face burned with anger.

"You'd stitch my mother and me up? Just so you could shag my wife?" Derek asked, ready to pound the older white man's face into pudding.

"Only with great reluctance," Graeme said. "On the other hand, you are one of our best drivers. You could very easily be promoted. Perhaps to a lead driver's position, or maybe to a shift supervisor's slot. I understand one will be opening up soon. It's up to you." Suddenly, he smiled and changed his tone. "Look, Derek. I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. I understand how difficult this will be for you. But Jan tells me your wife was one of her most enthusiastic students. She's in very good hands. We'll take good care of her. And we'll have her back to you in a fortnight... or so."

"A... fortnight?" Derek asked.

"Or so," Graeme added. "Listen, if it's any consolation, the women of the EST are very highly regarded and treated with the utmost care. If it weren't for them, the executives wouldn't be as motivated and sharp as they are. And their husbands are also very highly regarded by the company as well. You have nothing to worry about."

"Can I at least say goodbye to her?" Derek asked.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be wise, Derek." The door opened and three very large men in dark suits came into the room. "Listen, why don't you go with these very nice gentlemen. They'll escort you to the door. Your car is already waiting for you. Go on home, relax, have a nice hot cup of tea. Stiff upper lip and all that, you know."

Derek thought about rushing the men, grabbing Cynthia and running out of the house with her, but after looking closer at the very large security men, he reconsidered.

"Can you have her contact me every once in a while, to let me know that she's doing okay?" Derek asked.

"She won't have access to her mobile most of the time. But we'll have her send a postcard or a video from time to time if you wish."

"That's very... considerate of you," Derek said somewhat sarcastically.

"It's the least we can do," Graeme said, apparently paying no regard to Derek's sarcasm. "Now, if you don't mind, something has come up and I need to see to it. Go on now, go home. There's a good lad," he said, dismissing Derek with a slap on the back. The large security men looked at Derek without any expression and motioned for him to walk out the door. He left the office, one guard on either side and another behind him. He got to the front door and was practically pushed into the night air. Numb, he got into his car and went home.

That was 18 days ago. Since then, he received three post cards from Cynthia and a video by email. The email was short and to the point: "I'm doing fine, no worries. I'll be home when I can get there. Luv U, Cyn."

The video, however, was a different matter. It was more than two hours long and appeared to a compilation of her sexual exploits with the executives. He watched as Cynthia took on multiple men, sometimes two or three at a time. None of them used protection and all of them ejaculated inside her.

She seemed to love the attention they gave her and she gave back just as enthusiastically. He watched as she took on three men at once, with a cock in her shaved pussy, a cock in her ass and a cock in her mouth. When they ejaculated inside her, more men came forward for their turn.

She also seemed to develop a taste for women, and watched as she performed oral sex with Jan, who also serviced some of the executives. Derek was devastated, hurt and humiliated. How could Cynthia do this to him? He considered seeing a lawyer several times, but remembered what Graeme told him.

He continued running his routes, and took on extra time to keep from going to an empty house that no longer had any meaning to him. Then today, as he was filling his lorry with diesel in London, he was approached by three members of the Security Services -- a woman with an Irish accent and two men, one of whom had a distinctive American accent. Since when did British Security Services hire Americans, he wondered.

They asked him questions about the company, questions about his job and questions about Cynthia's "work." He answered in mostly general terms, not wanting to piss off anyone from MI5 or MI6 and not wanting to inadvertently provide too much information about the company. Becoming a target for the Security Services was the last thing he needed. Of course, he had no idea where Cynthia was or how long she would be gone.