Secrets of The New World Order

"Y-Yes...Sir."

She heard the zipper on the back of her dress being lowered. He pushed the garment off her shoulders. The dress free-fell to the floor; his hands fondled her breasts through her bra. She felt sick to her stomach, but stood still and let him touch her.

"Good girl...you know, Judy, I've wanted to see your tits from the day we met – take off your bra and show them to me."

"Please, don't make me do this, Mr. Bagley," she said with a whimper.

"Sweetheart, all I want to hear from you is 'Yes, Sir' – do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes, Sir," she whispered then reached around her back and unclasped the bra and pulled the straps off her shoulders.

In one last attempt at modesty she hugged the garment to her breasts, but the man easily snatched it from her and tossed it to the floor. He stood behind her and pulled her close. His hands held her naked breasts, kneading and squeezing her flesh.

When he pinched her hardening nipples she exclaimed, "OH," he squeezed them harder and rolled them between his fingers.

She felt his hot breath on her neck. He pushed his tongue in her ear and she shivered. Then he pressed the bulge in his slacks into her buttocks. She felt his hardness against her and gasped.

"Sweetheart," he said. "You are one sexy bitch – I can't wait any longer. Get on your knees and take out my cock. I've been dreaming about this blowjob since yesterday."

She wanted to scream. The rudeness of his talk, the very private act he demanded her to perform, it was one thing to use her mouth when she made love to her husband, but this was downright obscene.

"Please, I can't do that..." she began softly crying.

He forcefully twisted her body so she was facing him.

He sneered into her petrified face and snapped at her, "Well then, I'll have to pick up the phone and tell Mary to start your eviction papers...you have 48 hours to get out of your house!"

She coughed and choked. Judith gave one last cry before she fell silent.

Her mind went numb as she knelt before the man. Her fingers trembled so much she had difficulty opening his slacks and extracting his hard prick. When she finally saw it she gasped. The only male erection she had ever seen was Jeffrey's, and Mr. Bagley's cock was longer and thicker than her husbands.

She heard his laughter.

"Yes, Sweetheart, it is a nice piece of meat, isn't it? Start sucking – those luscious tits of yours have me so horny it shouldn't take you long to suck the cum out of my balls...."

Judith cringed at his words, but was resigned to her fate. She decided to do her best and make him cum as fast as she could and get it over with.

She had sucked her husband's cock hundreds of times, and had become quite good at it. She remembered what Jeffrey had liked so her lips and tongue performed the way he would have wanted.

Mr. Bagley couldn't believe his good fortune. His own wife would never do this for him, but now, thanks to the new-found power the ruling elite had bestowed on him, a beautiful woman with gorgeous tits was on her knees servicing him.

His eyes went back and forth from her swaying breasts to her sensuous lips and mouth.

His cock throbbed as a feeling of absolute power spread throughout his body. He laughed to himself.

The bank was handing out more than a dozen eviction notices a day. By the time the economy settled in, he figured the bank would own at least two thousand houses.

Houses that had virtually no chance of selling any time soon because of tight money, and no credit being given to the average person; the bank would be stuck with thousands of houses whose value was depreciating daily.

He had already allowed families to stay in their foreclosed homes rent-free until they found someplace else to live. He could have made the same arrangement with Judith, as well. He could have allowed her family to remain in the house rent-free.

His climax was getting close. He began thrusting his hips, forcing more of his cock into the pretty woman's mouth.

I am the CEO of the bank, he thought to himself, and the ruling elite installed me as Town Manager. I am the most powerful man in town, and, by God, I am going to use that power and reap the rewards.

He smiled down at the madly sucking woman – she was the first of what promised to be, many, many more women who would be forced to degrade themselves on their knees before him.

Yes, he thought, I'm definitely going to love this New World Order crap.

He felt his balls contract; he held her head still and madly fucked her mouth.

"SWALLOW IT, BITCH – SWALLOW IT ALL...."

She had allowed her husband to cum in her mouth out of her deep love for him.

Now it was a necessity or she'd choke on it. She couldn't believe how much 'love-juice' he had in his balls. After three-four streams her husband would be finished, but this man kept cumming and cumming....

"Always lick it clean when I'm done," he snarled at her once his spasms ended.

The tears returned to her eyes as her tongue lapped at his nasty spunk. She softly cried when she realized this was her future now.

God dammit, Jeffrey, her mind railed. How could you do this to us? Why did you leave us alone in this world? What is going to become of us?

The man pushed her way from him and fixed his clothing.

"Not bad, Sweetheart – you'll get better with more practice...look at me bitch!" he demanded.

Judith stared into his eyes and saw nothing but evil.

He fumbled in his pocket and produced a key.

"Do you know the old 'Flowerton Motel' on highway ten?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"This is a key to room 137...we are going to meet there every Tuesday and Friday at 2pm until I say differently!"

"No-no, please – I can't---"

He interrupted her. "If you want your family to remain in the house, you can – and you will."

"You need to understand the 'new reality', Sweetheart...the only way you're going to survive in this New World Order is with your body – you don't have anything else to offer anyone...you're going to be like Blanche DuBois in 'A Streetcar Named Desire' – you are going to have to 'rely on the kindness of strangers' to meet your family's needs...."

He threw her dress and bra at her and told her to get dressed.

When she pulled herself together he gave her further instructions.

"I want you at the motel at 1:30...you're going to take a shower first...when I walk in at two I want to see you naked on the bed – with your legs spread wide...I'd advise you to make your pussy wet for me – I'm not into foreplay...if you have hair on your cunt get rid of it – I want you soft and smooth...you'll be out of the motel room by 4 o'clock – five at the latest...now get out of here – I'll see you in two days."

When she closed the door behind her she stood in absolute stunned silence.

Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening to me. How is this possible in America?

She suddenly felt Mary's presence and tried to smile, but couldn't.

Mary brought a tissue to Judith's face and said, "You have some, ah, 'stuff' on your chin." And she tenderly wiped it off.

Judith turned beet red and began trembling again.

"Please," Mary said, "don't be embarrassed...these are crazy times we're living in now, we all have to do things we wouldn't have done before...."

Judith looked at the woman and saw the pain in her eyes. She guessed Mary had also been required to provide non-work related services for her boss

"What is going on in this town, Mary? The men all seem so different now," she asked.

Mary sadly shook her head then said: "It's not just here – it's everywhere! The New World Order is one nasty men's club, and to them, women are good for one thing only!"

Judith walked quickly to her car.

She thought to herself: If it wasn't for the kids – I'd take the cowards way out like Jeffrey did.

I decided to file a complaint against Mr. Blank with the Better Business Bureau.

I found a parking spot adjacent to the town square, across the street from 'Jensvold Hardware'. I walked to city hall and found The Better Business Bureau listed in room 325. The elevator was broken so I had to walk up three flights of stairs.

The office was at the end of a hallway, and as I strode past numerous offices with glass doors, it struck me as odd that many of the rooms were empty of people and furniture. The few offices that were open appeared to have very few employees working.

The Better Business Bureau was no different. I didn't see anyone working so I rang the bell on the counter.

After four minutes had passed, a haggard-looking older woman appeared at the counter. She seemed surprised to see me.

"Oh, the driver's license and taxation offices are on the first floor," she said. It sounded like she told that to people quite often.

"No, no," I said. "I want to file a complaint against a business in town."

Her tired-looking eyes narrowed as she stared at me.

"Why would you do that?" she asked suspiciously.

"My boss, ah...I want to file a sexual harassment complaint against my boss," I quietly said to her. My heart was pounding.

She stared at me a long time as though I spoke a different language, and she couldn't understand what I was saying.

She finally said in a small frightened voice, "Are you one of those secret shoppers? Do you work for the Council? – are 'they' testing me?"

What is wrong with this woman? I wondered. What the heck is she talking about?

"No, I want to file a complaint against my boss at the 'Shop & Bag'!" I said exasperated.

She carefully studied me for thirty seconds. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. She leaned over the counter and whispered to me.

"Aren't you Jeffrey Strong's boy?" she asked.

My eyes misted over when she mentioned my dad's name.

"Y-Yes, I am," I managed to say without choking.

Her face softened. She continued to whisper.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said. "He was a down-to-earth, straight-talking man – he told you the truth – he never played mind games or try to bs you..."

She paused. It appeared she was actually thinking about him.

"Son," she suddenly said, "I'm going to forget about what you said to me - you know, I'm required to tell my boss if someone makes an allegation against a business...listen to me, you don't want to go through with this...everything has changed – we don't investigate businesses anymore – if a worker complains we investigate them."

I couldn't believe what she was telling me.

"I don't understand," I said. "Where can I go then? A lawyer?"

She grimaced then said, "Son, lawyers won't touch employee complaints anymore –most of the lawyers have been bought by the corporations - the ones that are still independent...well, they'd be committing suicide if they went up against big business."

I winced when she said 'suicide'.

"The only thing I can recommend to you is turn around and walk out of here...if someone asks me why you were here, I'll tell them it was a mistake – you were looking for a different office..."

She seemed genuinely afraid, and her fear was beginning to take hold of me.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked in a daze.

"Son, I'm sorry about your situation, but you'll have to figure it out yourself," she said sadly. "All I can tell you is there are a handful of men in this town controlling every aspect of business and government, if you piss them off – you'll never work in this town again."

"That's not right," I said. "What about unsafe workplaces and unfair practices by management? What about the United States Constitution?"

She lowered her eyes and whispered to me.

"Son, welcome to The New World Order."

A car horn woke me from my zombie-like stupor. I managed to stop before I was run over. My mind was swimming in confusion.

What is going on here? How did everything change overnight? Why hadn't I read about this in the paper or seen it on Fox News?

I was opening my car door when I heard the familiar voice of Mr. Jensvold calling my name. His hardware store was across the street from where I'd parked. I went over to speak with him.

He was one of those 'radical liberals' that believed weak and lazy people deserved food stamps and money for doing nothing, but he had been one of my father's closest friends so I always treated him with respect.

We shook hands.

"John, good to see you. How are you holding up?" he asked.

He always called me by my name. Not like most people who'd say 'son' or 'boy' or 'kiddo' or 'young man'. I appreciated him doing that.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"I was thinking about you today," he said. "Earl gave me his two-week notice – yeah, he's finally going to retire...anyway, I thought about guys who might want his job and you came to mind. Would you be interested?"

I was momentarily speechless. Since my father's death, all I'd heard was bad news on top of more bad news. Now, seemingly out of nowhere, I was hearing the best news I could possibly hear.

Then he added: "I'm sure you know the new Wal-Mart Super Center is opening next month...your boss is going to find himself in a tough situation; he won't be able to compete with their grocery prices – if he doesn't go out of business, he'll at the very least have to lay-off quite a few employees."

He must have thought my silence meant I didn't want the job.

He continued: "I believe you were making minimum wage at 'Shop & Bag', that is until Congress rolled back the minimum wage to $6.25. You know darn well that tight-ass owner of yours will pay only what the law says he has to...I'm still going to pay $8.00-an-hour. In this day and age, paying someone $6.25 is an outrage – hell, $8.00-an-hour is not a living wage either, but, unfortunately, that's all I can afford..."

Then he said something that made me feel like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.

"John, the job is yours if you want it!"

The birds were singing again; the sky was as blue as I'd ever seen it.

"Y-Yeah, Mr. Jensvold – yes I want the job!" I said with more enthusiasm than I'd felt in a long time. This man was my savior from Mr. Blank's nasty intentions.

We both smiled and shook hands again. I followed him into the store and back to his small, cramped office. A tv was turned on and sure enough, it was tuned to the Communist channel – MSNBC.

I decided to keep my mouth shut. I certainly wasn't going to argue politics with the man who may have just saved my life.

He gave me some papers.

"I'll need you to fill out the application, and this one is for your insurance," he said.

"Insurance?" I said in a surprised voice. "I thought if you had fewer than five employees you didn't have to give them insurance?"

He looked sincerely into my eyes.

"John, what kind of employer would I be if I didn't look out for the welfare of my employees?"

Like all the other employers in this town, I thought to myself.

We shook hands for a third time and I was turning to leave when we heard a voice on the television announcing 'Breaking News'. We both stared at the screen and listened to the newswoman.

"Twenty minutes ago, the Supreme Court overturned a lower court's ruling that forbade private contracts – contracts entered into by one private individual with another private individual – from including in the language of the contract, indentured servitude.

The 5-4 majority wrote that "...individuals are free to negotiate for specific periods of time, a specific price, and specific duties the 'employee' is expected to perform. Since the employee is free to negotiate terms they desire, once a contract is signed by both parties, that contract is valid and binding. The state has no overriding or compelling interest in said duties or services included in the language of the contract."

Hanson vs Vanderbilt had been a national circus. Newspapers and television networks offered around-the-clock coverage. I followed the case closely myself.

Yes!! I thought when I heard the verdict.

A victory for the free-enterprise system! The average person can still be an entrepreneur in this country.

I was feeling pretty good until I heard Mr. Jensvolds reaction.

"Oh my God," he said. "The United States Supreme Court just legalized prostitution and slavery!"

They did no such thing! What was he talking about? I wondered.

I didn't say a word. He may be a liberal, but I guess he's still entitled to his own opinion, besides, I really needed the job.

I would begin work the next day. I said 'good-bye' and left Mr. Jensvold as he stared with open mouth at the television.

The first thing I did when I got outside was call Mr. Blank on my cell phone.

It took a few minutes, but I finally heard his voice.

"Hello..." he said.

"Listen, you old bastard – I QUIT! I'm not going to be your butt-boy, you perverted creep!"

A chill ran up my spine when I heard him ask: "Who is this?"

Good God, I thought. How many guys is he blackmailing?

"This is John Strong – go shove your dick up your own ass!" I ended the call before he said another word.

On the drive home, I briefly thought about the Hanson vs Vanderbilt decision, and Mr. Jensvold reaction.

He had been my father's closest friend. My dad always said he was the smartest man he'd ever known. I wondered why Mr. Jensvold thought the decision legalized prostitution and slavery.

The people on Fox News championed the case as 'individual rights vs government intrusion'. That it is a fundamental right that two people can enter into a binding contract with one another without government interference.

Vicky Hanson had applied to be Todd Vanderbilt's Personal Assistant (PA). Mr. Vanderbilt was the CEO of the biggest weapons manufacturer in California. They negotiated a contract that was acceptable to them both, then a few weeks later she violated the terms of the contract by refusing to perform a service that she had agreed to in the contract.

He stopped paying her, and even initiated a lawsuit against her for breach of contract.

The California Ninth Circuit Court ruled against him, but he took the case all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. And now today, the Supreme Court threw out that decision in favor of Mr. Vanderbilt and our system of free enterprise.

What is so wrong about that? I'd wanted to ask Mr. Jensvold. The woman had willingly negotiated a contract and then weaseled out of it. Shouldn't individuals be held accountable for their actions?

Fox never got into the specifics or details of the contract, saying only it's the spirit of the law that matters in this case.

They said if the Supreme Court overturned the Circuit Court decision, this would allow millions of people to negotiate their own contracts without outside interference from predator attorneys and the government.

Why shouldn't a person have the right to sell their labor for a fair price?

I was home twenty minutes when the phone rang.

"Hello, this is the Strong residence, John speaking," I said.

"Yeah, this is Fred from the city impound lot. The police are finished with the Honda Accord registered to Mr. Jeffrey Strong. Someone can come and pick it up."

"Oh – okay...thanks," I replied. The reality of my father's death suddenly shocked me back to reality.

"We cleaned it up the best we could, but you know, there's still some, ah, you know, blood on the window and front seat..."

I became sick to my stomach at the visual image of my father's last moments in that car.

And then for some reason I had the presence of mind to ask him how much we owed the impound lot for storing the car. I knew whatever the amount we could not afford it.

"Oh," he seemed to brighten up. "Not a thing! The bill says it's been 'paid in full'."

"By who?" I asked.

"Doesn't say...can you pick it up today – we need the space?"