Excerpt from: "Brextopia!"

 

On a bright, fresh day in early spring, Penny Adams approached the looming mass of the Ministry of National Security with faltering steps, feeling her stomach beginning to churn. Why had she been summoned here? Her personal life might be in a mess and she was close to despair, but there was nothing criminal about any of it.

A summons to The Ministry of Exploitation and Licencing, she could have understood, after her recent licence application, but why Min Sec Nat? Of course, it was vital to the safety of the country, but it also had a slightly sinister reputation. It held people whose purpose was to examine the affairs of every citizen for any subversive act or tendency, and even the totally innocent felt uncomfortable at being subjected to such scrutiny.

The Ministry had been built on the North bank of the Thames amid the ruins of Old Central London, after the devastating floods following the tragedy of Megastorm Morgana decades before, which had overwhelmed the old Thames Barrier - although that tragic failure was said by many to have been an act of sabotage by EuroFed agents.

As Penny crossed the great plaza in front of the Ministry, she passing flapping banners proclaiming the centenary. 2121: a hundred years since the country's final liberation! Despite her worries, she swelled with patriotic pride. What was once embittered old England was now dynamic, free Brextopia.

She saw some tourists in strange foreign costumes taking pictures of the river front with its parade of historic bridges, overlooked by a forest of restored church spires. She smiled automatically as she passed them. Citizens must always be polite to tourists because they were vital to the economy. Sometimes they asked locals for help when they were confused by imperial measurements on maps, and paying for things in pounds, shillings and pence. Brextopia had reverted to traditional units and measures on its foundation.

Now the Ministry towered over her. It was a great rectangular slab of a building a city-block long, with thrusting, temple-like porticos sheltering its entrances. In keeping with New London's cultural aesthetic, it had been finished in the Anglo-classical style, with towering half columns with cross-helical fluting breaking up its sheer sides, with ranks of tall mirror glass windows peering out between them. The columns supported massive gables, friezes, and cornices. High above the surrounding streets and plazas, its roof terraces were sheltered behind tinted armoured glass and statue-capped balustrades.

A large and intimidating fanlike sweep of steps led up under one of its porticos to the specific entrance specified in her summons. There were several doors with a sign over one at the end of the row saying VISITORS. She held up the summons on her pad display before its reception screen.

'Penelope Adams, Class LL, to see Inspector Flack,' she said aloud.

'Enter, Citizen,' the screen said. 'You will be processed in Security Suite 3.'

The doors slid apart and she stepped into a small lobby. The doors closed behind her. A second set of doors opened before her onto a long windowless corridor with several doors along it. One halfway along had an illuminated 3 flashing above it.

This opened into a white, brightly lit room. There was a wall of lockers and another door leading off it and cameras and mirrors on the walls, no doubt some of one-way glass. A black-uniformed guard with a scanner wand was waiting for her.

'Stand there,' he told her gruffly, pointing to a red rubber mat in the middle of room. There was a metal mesh bin standing beside it.

The guard walked around Penny, looking her over with understandable contempt, noting her lowly LL class rating pin, lack of wedding ring or WNS badge.

'Strip and put your things in the bin!' he commanded.

Biting her lip but expecting nothing less, Penny obeyed.

Penny put her handbag in the bin and began removing her approve period costume. She took off her gloves and her faux ostrich feather hat (which was beginning to look rather shabby), her coat and ankle boots, her long-sleeved ankle length dress, her under slip, her stockings and finally her suspender belt. Then she stood naked and trembling before the guard's unfriendly gaze. She had wondered about wearing panties in defiance of convention but was now relieved that she had not. The mirrors on the walls reflected her body back at her from all angles. They made her feel even more exposed. Perhaps that was intentional.

It was small comfort at that moment, but Penny knew she had a good body. She had pale skin and long dark brown hair framing a heart-shaped, open face, in which were set large dark brown doe eyes that lowered with shy ease, a neat nose and a pleasingly proportioned mouth. Her figure was womanly but not over fleshy, with good shoulders and full breasts extending well out from her slender chest, whose scooping upper slopes tapered to full red-brown nipples. Her waist, punctured by a deep navel, was supple, and it flared gracefully out over her hip bones. Her legs were lean but still shapely. The sinuous curve of her back divided into the twin hemispheres of her soft, deep cleft buttocks. She was perfectly smooth everywhere, except for her pubic mound, which was covered by an unfashionably thick bush of dark curls that almost hid her pubic lips.

The guard looked at her with both normal male lust and clear disapproval at her bush of pussy hair. She had not kept herself depilated over the last few months and it had grown out. Maybe she should have removed it this morning, but she had been too preoccupied.

'Legs apart, hands clasped behind your neck!' the guard snapped, and she obeyed.

He ran the loop head of the scanner wand over body, and then extended its internal probe.

'Open wide...'

He pushed the wand head into her mouth, touching the back of her throat and making her gag by reflex. Then he bent down and tugged her pubic curls apart to insert the probe into her cleft and up into her vagina. Penny bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burning, struggling to keep still, as he waggled it about inside her. Was that really necessary, or was he toying with her?

Whatever the truth of it, she did not protest. Her consent was taken for granted. It was the price a woman paid for the privilege of living in Brextopia.

'Bend over and pull your arse cheeks apart,' he commanded.

With her cheeks now scarlet, she did so, reaching behind her to expose her most intimate parts. The probe went up her rectum. He seemed to hold it there a long time before he pulled it out and gave her bare bottom a slap.

'Stand.'

He took up the bin of her clothes and possessions and put in a locker.

'Please, Sir, can I dress now?' she asked meekly.

'No, girl, not until you leave. You just wear these...' From the locker he took out a pair of felt slippers and an electric custodial collar and leash. She put the slippers on and then bit her lip as he locked the collar about her neck. Naturally, the necessities of security came before her feelings.

'Mr Algernon!' he called out.

The other door opened and a small, neat, grey-haired man wearing a service pension uniform with a row of medals on his chest entered. He walked briskly but slightly stiffly. As he looked Penny over in approval, the guard handed him her leash.

'One for Inspector Flack...'

Algernon led Penny back through the door he had used, along another corridor and into a large reception hall. Half a dozen people were moving through it. As Algernon led her across to a bank of lifts, Penny wrapped her hands across her breasts and pussy and lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks burning.

At least there was nobody else in the lift. Algernon selected a floor, and they were whisked upwards. Then Penny felt his hand stoking her bare bottom and then give it a pinch. She flinched and bit her lip. Of course, appreciative pats and pinches were quite normal for a young unmarried woman, but not when she bare-naked like this! Algernon chuckled.

'Just exercising my good hand,' he said. 'My other hand and legs are plastic. Training exercise accident near Offa's Dyke back in '99 - although between ourselves, I think it was down to Cymrunian sabotage.'

Now Penny felt confused. 'I... I'm sorry.'

'I get by, and I can still serve the country... and there are perks to this job...'

And he pinched her bottom again.

The lift stopped and Algernon led her out into a huge echoing corridor lined with doors.

They passed a female secretary with clicking heels coming the other way carrying some files. She was thirtyish and wearing a trim dark grey long-sleeved dress with her neat shapely breasts exposed by lace trimmed cut-outs in its front. The tint of her perfectly defined nipples matched that of her lipstick. The dress had a fabric flap, currently folded up in a bow over her breasts, that could be buttoned down to cover them when she was outside in public. Female independence came at a price, and woman in such positions had to show they were aware of their status in a male dominated environment.

Algernon grinned at her mammaries' inescapable jiggle while touching his cap.

'Good morning Miss Tucker.'

'Good morning, Mr Algernon,' she replied. She spared Penny a glance expressing brief sympathy that became cool and composed once more as she passed on.

They reached an office door bearing the sign: 485: Inspector H. Flack. Algernon knocked. The lens on the door front blinked, and then a crisp voice said, 'Enter!'

It was an austere office with grey walls and a single cupboard and a hat, coat and umbrella on a stand. A single guest chair sat against a wall. A big slab of a desk took up much of the room with a black rubber mat in front of it. A man sat behind it wearing in a dark suit with wide lapels, a stiff collar, a patriot tie, and buttonhole pin. He had his head down studying a desk screen. He had thin blonde hair bushed straight back. On a big wall screen behind his desk, a loop was playing of the fluttering flag of Brextopia: a cross of St George with a shield in its centre and a lion in its upper left quadrant.

'Miss Adams to see you, Mr Flack,' Algernon said.

Still without looking up, Flack said, 'Thank you, Mr Algernon - put her there...' he indicated a ring bolted to the front corner of the deck. Algernon pulled Penny over until she stood on the mat and hooked the end of her leash to the ring. Then he turned and left.

Penny stood there, trying to cover herself, trembling with fear and burning with shame. Flack still had his head bent over the screen. A minute passed like this. Was she meant to say something? Then Flack suddenly spoke:

'You are Penelope Adams, born of Reginald and Virginia Adams, Class MM. Age nineteen. Divorced from Desmond Stapleton, aged sixty-seven, Class LU, for repeatedly disrespecting him over several matters, but mainly your refusal to allow him to put a small decorative brand on you. It caused a minor local scandal. Rightly disowned by friends and relations you have resumed using your maiden name. By law you had three months to find another husband to support you or do compulsory national service, but no one would have you and your time is nearly up. Currently living in Chantry Hostel, Bermondsey. Recently you applied for a private Harlots Licence. You must be desperate...'

Now he looked up at her. She saw he had a high forehead and a pale smooth narrow face, thin lips, and narrow piercing grey eyes.

'Well?'

She bit her lip. 'Yes, Sir... I am desperate.'

'You've only yourself to blame, you know that.'

'It was a brand! He wanted to mark me as if I was his property!'

'You were his wife, and it would have been perfectly legal if done by a licenced practitioner. He was your husband and I understand he had spent a lot of money on you. When a woman marries, she automatically gives her consent to such minor adjustments a husband might wish to make in her appearance. You should have obeyed his wishes.'

'He caned me for saying no until I fainted!'

'Again, it was his right as your husband to administer proper chastisement. But you ran away. So, he divorced you and you were turned out in disgrace. Your parents would not take you back and your social class rating was reduced from a very comfortable Lower Upper to Lower Lower. That must have come as a shock. But still you could have volunteered for National Service and redeemed yourself.'

Penny felt the old fire of resentment at the unfairness of life flicking within her.

'Why should I volunteer to degrade myself? There should be something better for women to do!'

'There are a few reserved professions open to women - but you do not have the qualifications, do you?'

Penny bit her lip again, fighting back tears. 'No, Sir,' she admitted.

'Your sole asset is your pretty body, but you were unwilling to offer it to the greater good. You are a silly young woman who has realized the consequences of her selfish and misguided actions too late!'

Now Penny was wiping away the tears that were filling her eyes and trying to stifle her sobs. Was that all too frighteningly true? Flack watched her impassively for a minute, and then said, 'But there is one way you can have your status restored and redeem your honour.'

She blinked at him, feeling a flicker of hope. 'How, Sir?'

He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, as if giving a lecture.

'Brextopia is a paradise of free enterprise, but freedom comes at a price. Men work and govern and guard the frontiers while women serve in their own way. That is the natural order of things. Women are a valuable resource that must be exploited for the national good. Some women suffer in the process, it is true; but one woman's suffering must be balanced against the pleasure she may give to hundreds of men, in addition to the income she earns for the nation. Thus, the greater good benefits. The mathematics are irrefutable. So is the fact that our country is continually under a grave threat!'

He touched a keypad and wall screen behind him changed its display. Now it showed the British Isles and the north western corner of Europe.

'Look at the map - see how we are surrounded by our enemies!'

Of course, she knew the history and geography of their situation.

The breakup of the old United Kingdom left what was briefly called Noble England on its own: defiant and independent, surrounded by unfriendly nations to the west and north. These comprised the old West Country of England, which had broken away and reverted to its ancient name of Dumnonia that it had born when it was under Celt influence; then came Cymru itself; United Eire, and Scotia. The Celtic Crescent, as it was also sometimes called. While across the North Sea and the Channel, the arc of the EuroFed zone encompassed the lands to the east and south.

'They resent our freedom and independence and worldwide connections, and they would bring us down to their level if they could,' Flack continued. 'We need to be constantly vigilant, alert to threats. We need operatives of all sorts to root out subversives that would undermine our society. Perhaps we might even use disgraced young women - if they are suitable...'

He stood up and walked around her, looking with displeasure at her pussy bush. She only now saw that he was a small, wiry man, not quite as tall as her. It was the force of purpose within him that made him seem bigger.

He flicked her nipples and stroked her bottom thoughtfully. 'You are a very attractive woman. That is an asset to the country if used properly. It could also help you earn your redemption. Are you interested?'

She nodded.

'Unless of course you are a secret a Celt lover? Is that where you got your foolish ideas from? They talk about so-called "female liberation" and "sexual equality" in their propaganda broadcasts.'

Penny was shocked. 'No, Sir!'

'Are you ready to prove it?'

She nodded again. 'Yes, Sir.'

'But I warn you, it will take courage and dedication and above all total obedience. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Will you do what I tell you next without question?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Then bend over the side of my desk with your ankles pressed against its feet, then extend your arms sideways and bend them inwards. Feel under the rim of the desktop for a pair of recessed handles and squeeze them tight...'

Trembling, she did so. The edge of the desk pressed against the tops of her thighs and hipbones. The desktop was cool as her breasts flattened against it. She reached round and found the handles and squeezed. Recessed clamps sprang out and closed about her wrists and ankles. The halves of a larger semi-circular clamp pushed out of the top of the desk and snapped shut about her waist. By reflex she tried to pull herself out of their grasp, but she was held fast.

Flack slapped her now outthrust bottom hard, making her wince.

'If you give your body and your loyalty to the Ministry, then you will be given independent employment status and your parental class ranking will be restored. Certain adjustments to your body will be necessary, and none of it will be easy, rather like Harlot work. But then you were contemplating that anyway. The difference is that Ministry work will be secret and without any stigma being attached to you. None of your friends or relations will ever need know about it. And when it is completed successfully you will have redeemed yourself. Well? Do you consent to my terms?'

He was not promising an easy way out of her troubles, but it was a way. It might be her last chance to salvage her self-respect.

'Yes, Sir... I consent.... I'll do it.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Sir.'

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out an electric cane. He held it in front of her face so she could see it clearly, and then it swished through the air and cut into her buttocks, making them leap. There was a simultaneous thwack of plastic on flesh and a sharp crackle of electricity. She shrieked in pain as tears filled her eyes again. He was dominating her as a good Brextopian man was supposed to.

'Do you offer your body and soul to serve the national good?' he demanded, swinging the cane again and making her bottom shiver.

'Awwww... yes, Sir!' she wailed.

Swish, crack, crackle! Her bottom seemed to be on fire.

'Are you prepared to suffer to redeem yourself?'

'Ohhhh... yes, Sir!'

He put the cane down on the desk and there was the whisper of a parting fly-seam, and then she felt the head of his stiff cock rubbing through her pussy cleft. She shuddered and felt a sudden surge of warm slickness flow through her.

'Are you a loyal patriot?'

'Yes, Sir... I'll do whatever you want, Sir.... please!'

Flack rammed into her, grinding her thighs against the side of the desk. Penny squealed as his hips rasped over her hot, stinging bottom and his shaft stretched her tight passage. He was the first man she had had inside her for months. The first after Desmond. Only the second man ever to have her! He was big and hard and so assured. He was using her, but he could also save her. All she had to give in return was her total loyalty and blind faith and, and... everything!

Hope and fear were churning inside her. She had given her consent and that could not be withdrawn. He could do what he liked to her and with her. She thought she was going to burst and shrieked in despair.

But she climaxed instead.