Hell of a Day

Potentially a darker storyline than my previous series. Like when reading any work on here, productive comments really help in knowing if you enjoy our work or if there are any ways I could improve. Suggestions for future works also welcome! ; )

Enjoy...

In the last three decades, the wealth divide across the globe has grown exponentially. Governments became increasingly powerless as international businesses could simply move their money abroad if countries did something they didn't like. With the conflict between the west and Russia pushing the country into poverty, the few left with money knew they had to do something drastic to avoid falling into poverty themselves.

With lots of internal turmoil causing a new political party to take control, the war ended and everyone hoped for a new dawn and integration with the outside world. Instead, what blossomed was something far darker than had ever existed before. With their borders remaining almost completely closed off and their economy sliding into the dark ages, people were desperate to get any work they could.

Desperation allowed for the rich to employ people to do whatever they wanted for less and less money. Within five years of their new regime, people were working for the rich simply for basic food and accommodation. The rich claimed regions of land like it was a couple of thousand years before and the peasants had to farm their land.

The country became self-sufficient, buying nothing from the outside world. They did however officially export one product, and unofficially another. They continued to supply oil and gas, whose prices continued to rise. They also started selling slaves. Although this soon became common knowledge around the world and remained illegal elsewhere, so many countries were dependent on their petroleum that no one did anything.

Over a decade after the new regime took over, the country started exporting a couple of other products. Without the stringent human rights most of the rest of the world stuck by, Russia was able to make technological developments that were beyond the availability of the others. At first that allowed them to develop new drugs.

With foreign money going into the country and little to no money leaving, the country started to recover its economy. This didn't reflect in the way of life for any but the rich though, as all the money from abroad went straight to them. Another decade went by and they started rebuilding their factories.

Human rights groups started getting angry at the way countries were encouraging trade with Russia despite its lack of ethics. The rich however, realised that they could learn some things from the Russians. Soon, laws started to relax testing of drugs on people. At first it was paid volunteers, then prisoners and eventually people on benefits. With robots replacing more of the workforce, more people became reliant on benefits.

Two centuries after the wealth divide started growing, less than 50,000 people now share over 90% of the globe's wealth. To be on benefits in my country, you need to get onto drug trials, participate in scientific studies or have been employed in the last six months. With over half the population unemployed, it is a fight to tick one of these boxes. With almost no requirements to run a medical trial apart from paying the government, getting involved in drug trials or medical studies is becoming ever more dangerous.

Although it had been decades since official stats had been released, from my experience, about 20% of drug tests have bad side effects. I had even known of a few people to have died shortly after their tests. I was once bed-bound for a week after taking a drug that was supposed to make your skin more elastic and it didn't have any effect on my skin. Supposedly the idea was that pregnant women wouldn't have as many stretch marks or someone getting breast or butt implants would look more natural. I have always managed to stay employed, only ever taking part in order to get some extra money as it was so hard to come by.

School had changed dramatically, even from my parents' day. We still had exams at 16, these were predominantly to select our best subjects, which we then continued for another two years before our main exams. To solve overpopulation, people who were in the bottom 50% of results in this second round of exams got made permanently infertile. Obviously, like all laws I will ever mention, this didn't apply to the rich. The top 20% got an extra three years of education whilst the next 60% had to go find work.

The bottom 20% was where no one wished to fall. They fell into the same category as criminals, essentially government property. Whilst officially slavery was still illegal, it was considered enough payment for people who fell into this category to be given food and accommodation. Criminals were required to perform well in order for each year to count towards their sentence, the average person being 'enslaved' for twice the sentence length. Meanwhile, those who are less inelegant, or simply poor at exams, are 'government employees' until they are fifty.

Officially referred to as labour, the general public simply referred to these people as slaves given that is the term for people working and not actually being paid. To further degrade and humiliate these people, they were each chipped and given nose rings to show their status. It also meant that employers, or owners, couldn't mistake others for these people. Although they had some more rights than animals, they could be used as test subjects, kept in living spaces that only needed to be safe and sanitary, and could be made to do almost any work with only one day off a week. So essentially, they couldn't be raped, tortured, or killed.

Sadly, I am not one of the rich so I have to work in order to avoid being "enslaved". I work in a science lab trying to develop a drug that slows ageing. So far, we can make the heart last longer and skin age slower, but the rest of the body still struggles, and the mismatch actually results in earlier deaths. This we found out the hard way.

With no real success for over a decade, I'm not overly shocked when Sarah, one of my colleagues, comes to me saying they heard a rumour that our team would be shutting down soon. Without any actual successes on my resume at almost 30, it will be hard to find a new job. While going through my own personal panic at this news, I have to keep a brave face and support my friend as her younger sister, Annie, had failed her final school exams a week ago. Having been on track to be in the top 20%, no one expected the 18-year-old to be enslaved. It never rains but it pours as they say.

What made it worse was Sarah didn't even get to say goodbye to her sister as she had already been employed/bought. It normally took a month or so between getting grades and the government employing or selling them. Sometimes though, a rich person would visit a school in the lead up or even during exams and make a claim on someone to the government should that person fail. I can't say I am too surprised by the news she had been preselected as despite her intelligence making it unlikely she would fail her exams, like her older sister, she had a beautiful curvy body. What did surprise me though, was that she had failed. Having spoken to her a couple of times, she seemed as smart as her older sister who, like me, had been in the top 20% of her year.

The following day, I still don't have a plan for how I am going to survive once they close our research team. I have always kept a careful track of my money and know I could survive two months on benefits in my current flat before I would need to move or get a new job. On my way home, my mind is still running though my options when I notice a gorgeous young woman walking down the road towards me. With most people unable to afford attractive clothes, it is quite easy to tell when someone is rich. And this woman definitely is, so I stepped to the side and lowered my gaze as she walked past.

However as she passes me, she stops. I stand still, staring at the blood red pair of heels pointing towards me, unsure of what to do. A hand reaches under my chin, one of her red nails running up my throat before her fingers rest under my chin and excruciatingly slowly tilt my head up until I am looking at her in the eyes.

The slow movement gives me the option of roaming my eyes over her body or closing them. I think you already know which option I choose. I know this makes me a bad feminist, and I have no defence, or regrets. Her feet are enclosed in the red shoes, which have a small heel to them helping show off her slim, athletic legs. Not only do her legs have some muscle definition, but they are also quite tanned for someone in our rainy and grey country.

My eyes are lifted slowly up to where her legs disappear under her purple dress. The dress itself has a light purple underlayer with a slit up dangerously high on one side. Over the top is a darker purple mesh with some patterns in it that attaches to a bodice, I think the term for it. A solid bit of dark purple that covered her breasts and a band below it.

As my eyes continued up, I realised the bodice isn't completely solid, there is a triangle of mesh up the middle giving a glimpse of her cleavage to the more observant onlooker. Or someone less than a metre away whose head is pointing straight at it. The dress, while loose around her legs, squeezes her waist and breasts giving her an impossible hourglass figure and emphasising her chest.

"You work at the lab down the road, right? I think I've seen you there before?" She asks me, an eyebrow raised. I can't help but be slightly stunned as I look at her. As she had lifted my head so slowly, we had actually been completely silent for almost a minute before she spoke. Now I stand almost unable to move as her green eyes bore their way into my soul.

"Yes mam, that's right." I mumble eventually.

"Have you heard that it's going to shut in two weeks?" She continues.

"Sort of mam, I heard it might be shutting. But I didn't know for certain or when." I answer, my voice now wobbling more as my mind panics now for a completely different reason.

"Well consider this confirmation. So, I offered you a job, would you accept it?" She asks me, smiling as she sees my eyes light up in hope.

"Yes mam, absolutely. Although I would need to hand in my notice and see out my week notice period." I reply, hoping that that won't cost me this job. With companies holding all the power, they no longer had to give reason or notice for dismissing someone. However, you breach your job contract, and it was standard practice to be enslaved by that company.

"Of course, let's go there now and see if we can get it all sorted out now. Come." She agrees, tapping her hip as she says the last word. She turns and walks towards the big building where I work. Going back the way I had just come, I follow silently by her side feeling like a dog that's been ordered to heel.

Entering into the foyer, there was a secretary sitting at a desk and two slaves stood to one side. This had become common in larger organisations in case anyone rich came by for a tour. In our facility, they were generally there to follow along with any tour and could be injected with any drug that took the guests' fancy.

Ours were also always male and female so that guests could use them for sexual services if desired. Despite causing some protests, a court order a few years ago allowed for slaves to agree to sexual acts, they simply need to sign an agreement that covers whatever acts they are willing to agree to. The only stipulation is that this consent cannot be changed by either party without both agreeing and whilst in the presence of a judge.

With our company making a range of aphrodisiac drugs and being allowed to use them on slaves without their permission, I doubt it would be hard to get them to sign any form that would give them a release. Once I had to watch an old man fuck a younger man over one of my colleagues' desks before injecting him with a paralytic. Once frozen, I knew the guy was still aware and able to feel and think like normal. This meant he had to experience all the different poses the old man put him in or got the female slave to pose him in. He was then left there, cum dripping out of his ass while positioned with one hand pulling his balls and the other behind his head. I could almost feel the pain that his ball sack must be in as the tour continued and he was left in the now dark room. I later found out the guest had bought more of the drug along with the male slave with the intent to use him and some of his existing slaves as frozen decorations and sex toys.

At the moment, the two slaves in our atrium were tall and quite attractive. The guy looked young, maybe only recently out of school. Probably has gone through some training so maybe 19 or 20. The woman looked only a couple of years younger than me, probably mid twenties. The rich woman had signalled for me to stop in the middle of the room, so I wasn't close enough to hear what she was saying to the secretary. As I waited, I looked at the female slave and tried to work out what her life between school and now might have been.

Eventually I settled on working in the company and had been tricked into breaching her contract in some way as her boss wanted to get her enslaved. Sometimes bosses did this as a way to earn favour with the rich as they then might claim ownership of a slave possessed by their company. Others did it as a way to flex their power over their team or in the hopes that they would get access to the enslaved individual.

"Come." The woman calls out, not even bothering to turn around. I walk over and join her at the secretary's desk just as the director of the facility comes through the door that leads into the main building. The secretary looked like she was holding back tears for some reason. Although I don't really know her, she always seemed polite and friendly whenever we had interacted.

"Sign this release for him." She ordered the man, nodding her head at me. "And you, sign these two." She continued, sliding two sets of documents to me. The first was a release from my current job which I signed. The second one I read more carefully as the woman hadn't actually said what she was employing me to do.

The form briefly lays out that I am to help manage her home and slaves. In the rights and other information, it said my employer would provide accommodation and food along with a salary. Although the monthly payment wouldn't cover a week's worth of food, it didn't need to so I couldn't really complain. The document also says that I will be required to take any drugs requested by my employer however they would be required to provide healthcare for anything caused by the drugs they prescribed me. She would also get to decide my work attire, although she couldn't expose me in public. That last part is one of the main laws that separated being poor and being owned, not an act of kindness from the woman.

Aware that I was unlikely to get any better offers, I signed the contract and slid the two sets of papers back to the woman. Having been so focused on the documents, I had missed whatever her and the director had been discussing.

"Yes, Clare here will get those for you now and you just need to sign this to have Annie." The man told the woman as the secretary, I assume must be called Clare, holds back a cough as she stands up and disappears into the building still seeming to be struggling to breath. The director waves the female slave over to us and the woman pulls out a leash and clips it onto the slave's nose ring.

As we waited, the woman signed two pieces of paper and the director signed another one. Once they were done, they shook hands, whispered for a minute and then the director turned and returned back into the main building. We waited for another few minutes and Clare returned with a box and put it on the desk while she collected up her possessions.

"Your bra doesn't match your dress. Remove it." The woman ordered. Clare was dressed in a simple, but pretty, light green summer dress. It was a good combination of smart casual and light enough for the warm summer day. As she stepped around the desk, I also discovered that it left a large portion of her long legs exposed.

The neckline dropped low exposing a lot of her sternum but no cleavage, partly due to Clare having smaller breasts. What was visible at the bottom of the v was a tiny bit of purple fabric that now I noticed it, definitely clashed with her dress. Clare looked at the woman with a worried expression, clearly trying to work out if she would have to do it here. A subtle nod from the woman confirmed her fear.

What surprised me was that rather than glancing at me or either of the other two men in the room, her eyes immediately focused on the female slave. Eventually her eyes dropped, and she started to fiddle with her dress to get it off. Eventually she managed to peel off her top half along with unclipping her bra. She held her dress tightly to her waist as her free hand removed her bra exposing her small, slightly sagging breasts to the group. My eyes immediately focused on her bright pink aureoles that stood out from her pale flesh like reverse headlights.

"Drop the dress, I want to see if the underwear matches the bra." The woman spoke casually, causing Clare to jerk her head up and look at her with pleasing eyes. "Now." She added, showing her growing impatience despite her calm demeanour. I could sense that my new employer was dangerous, even without the need of the immense power her money gave her over the rest of us.

Clare dropped her head and dress revealing purple underwear. Knowing what was required of her, she slid them off and put them to one side with her bra before grabbing her dress.

"No" the woman said firmly. "Stand with your head up with your hands by your side. Good, now slowly spin for us." The woman instructed, now with a more relaxed tone. Clare was relatively slim and had small amounts of muscle. Still with her heels on, her cute bubble butt looked great as she faced away from us. Her slight muffin top stopped her having much of an hourglass figure, but she still looked beautiful.

"Your trousers getting uncomfortable by any chance Joey?" The woman asked me, catching me completely off guard. I hadn't even noticed that she had turned to look at me. Unfortunately for me, she seemed to pick the moment I was indeed adjusting my trousers because of my growing erection.

"Don't worry, you'll get to have your fun later. But for now, hands by your side." She told me, forcing me to stop covering my crotch as all three women looked at the slight tent my dick was making in my jeans.

"Slave, put the dress back on your mother for me. And then put on her underwear." The woman said, dropping the leash attached to the woman's nose ring. I let out a small gasp at the same time as the slave squealed as the leash jerked on her nose.

The daughter had dark brown hair unlike her blonde mother, but the body shape was similar. She also was more tanned and had far less arm muscle. As she walked bent at the waist to pick up her mum's dress, I could see that she had a bubble butt like her mom, although hers looked firmer and, thanks to her age and slave diet, she did have a slim waist.

As I watched the slave move, I could see she had clearly been well trained. Every action was taken with a side thought of giving her owner a nice view. This apparently included dressing her own mother. Her mother, however, didn't have this training and was clumsily trying to help speed the process up and kept her eyes on the floor whenever possible.

Eventually the pair were dressed, or partly in the slave's case, and the woman led the way out without a word. The slave attached to the leash walked next to the woman down the street whilst the mother and I walked behind. The mother clearly not wanting me to ogle at her daughter's ass, made sure that she was behind her daughter.