Tom Ch. 02

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Tom sells himself into slavery.
11.8k words
52.6k
6
3

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/08/2012
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TimT1972
TimT1972
338 Followers

This is the second instalment in Tom's descent into slavery. It is advisable but far from necessary to read the first episode before reading this one. This works as a stand alone story.

*

Whilst Tom had been at college he had been kidnapped by three ladies, tortured and humiliated. Although they paid him well the experience left him hurt and confused. In the short term he was in a lot of pain, in the longer term he could not work out if he enjoyed the night or not. Anyway for several reasons Tom decided not to repeat the experience, in time he graduated and got a job. Now things were falling apart, his marriage had collapsed and he was up to his ears in debt. He needed money badly and he thought back to that night when he was dominated. Perhaps he could offer his body to the people who kidnapped him. It seemed the only way to raise a meaningful amount of cash quickly.

The first challenge was to try to track his kidnappers down. This proved surprisingly difficult. The internet may be great for some research (or plagiarism), but it seemed surprisingly difficult to trace a woman if she had changed to name when she married. Tom seemed to spend ages in dingy internet cafes until at last he tracked down one of his three kidnappers. Even then he could not be absolutely sure. He thought it was the same woman, but let's face it when he was kidnapped there weren't many formal introductions. He remembered he had been naked and gagged most of the time. His kidnappers only really wanted to hurt or humiliate him not talk about mutual acquaintances! He was sure one of the ladies had been an accountant called Mel. He remembered her surname was something like Hicks or Higgs or the like. After some research he found a Mel Standish (née Higgins), a partner in a larger accounting firm Cromwell and Cruickshank ('C&C'). The first thing was to think of an introduction. He could hardly ring up and say, "My name is Tom, do you remember the evening when you whipped me and ensured I lost my anal virginity!" It would be quite a conversation if he got the wrong Mel!

Tom eventually thought of a tactic, so he rang C&C and asked to be put through to Ms Standish. He got through to her secretary and had to leave a message he said he was Tom and they had done business some years ago along with Kathy and Stephanie, she might remember the deal was sealed in Kathy's basement. It was a risk he just hoped that Mel hadn't been down to Kathy's basement that frequently and would remember that was where he was taken when they kidnapped him. He left a mobile number.

To his surprise Mel Standish called back very promptly. She was also circumspect, saying she remembered a Tom and such a deal but was not sure if he was the right Tom.

"Well Ms Standish the deal was recorded on DVD for legal purposes, so I am sure you would be able to remember me if you wish to meet."

"Yes, I remember the DVD it is in my files somewhere. It was a great piece of work. I enjoyed doing business with you, are you still in the same line of work?"

"I took a sabbatical Ms Standish but now am available in my old capacity if that would interest."

"Yes Tom it would, I will need to go over your CV and interview you in person, how would you like to meet for lunch? Would next Thursday be convenient? The Old Post Office, Cleveland Close?"

"I would be honoured, what time would suit you?"

"1pm would be good, wear the mementos you took from the last deal if you still have them."

The conversation seemed fairly innocent until one understands that the DVD was a hard core porn movie Mel and her friends made to effectively blackmail Tom, the line of work Tom referred to was prostitution and the mementos were some pink satin panties.

The difficulty was Tom was broke, Mel was clearly extremely wealthy. Lots of people say they will do anything for cash, few really mean it. Tom did, he knew he would put up with any pain and suffer any indignity to get his life back on track. Tom still had the DVD and the panties and knew he would wear the latter if it increased his chances of getting employment from Mel.

On the Thursday in question he was late, he simply overslept, pathetic but true. He was also scruffy. He always was, sadly this was not chic scruffy it was dirt poor scruffy. He looked pretty awful but at least he was wearing the 'mementos'. He told the rather snooty maître d' that he had an appointment to see Ms Standish and was taken over to Mel's table as if he were a leper. The maître d' looked at Mel as if to stay, surely there is some mistake you don't really want to lunch with this 'thing'.

But Mel graciously received Tom and offered him a seat.

"Well, well, well, Tom. You don't look much better than the last time I saw you."

"Well Ms Standish..."

"Mel, please."

"Well Mel, last time you saw me you had whipped me for two hours, poured wax on some pretty sensitive areas, found creative uses for crocodile clips and got a gentleman to do things to me that I would prefer not to discuss in public."

"Yes, I know we had fun! You know I ended up watching the DVD twenty or thirty times. I think I prefer it to Top Gun."

"Thank you for comparing me to Tom Cruise, but somehow I don't remember the torture scenes in Top Gun."

"Point taken, but if you hated our night together so much, I am curious why you have contacted me, a pay off perhaps."

"No, I may be hard up but strangely I have an almost Victorian sense of honour."

"Good, I hoped you would, you would have spoilt one of my fantasies if this had been a shake down, but here come our starters. As you were late I took the liberty of ordering for you. You may remember I like being in control."

As they tucked into their food they both felt the electricity, remembering the night when Mel was instrumental in Tom's kidnap and torture. This said, life had been rather kinder to Mel in the interim.

"So Tom why did you not contact us after the party? If I remember we offered you very remunerative employment."

Yes Tom thought as a slave! But he could not afford to be facetious, "Well Mel, you may remember I was in quite a bit of pain after you finished with me. Your £1,500 kept me going for a bit and by the time I thought to take you up on your offer Kathy had disappeared."

"Yes, she ended up going to Paris for a year, but why did you not try to leave a message."

"I should have I am sorry, at the time I was entering my final year at college and I didn't much want to leave a message that Kathy's 'cum slut' wanted to talk to her."

"Shh! be careful Tom our neighbours might overhear. So why the contact now."

"Frankly Mel life hasn't been too good recently and I thought I may be able to offer you similar services to those I unintentionally offered that night."

"Interesting, I confess I had fun that night, but would you really be prepared to offer me carte blanche? I will make it plain I am not interested in a meet where there are a huge number if rules, well I will do this but not that etc."

"Mel, yes I am prepared to offer you the use of everything I have."

"Mmm. Tom this could be interesting. You will have to let me think about it. Are you absolutely sure on the 'everything'? I don't want any disappointments, I am a busy woman."

"Yes Mel. I will be honest I am pretty desperate."

The conversation went on for only a few more minutes when Mel's mobile went. She apologised and said she had to take the call. After a brief conversation she said she had to go. She took some cash out of her wallet and said Tom should finish his meal in comfort.

As she was leaving she asked, "What about the mementos, we gave you of our last meeting?"

"Mel, I am wearing them I promise."

"Good, finish you meal. The salmon is excellent here. I will give you a call next week."

Tom was left to ponder how the meeting went, no offer per se, but he thought she had taken to him. He would just have to wait to see if she wanted to take things further.

The next week Tom got a text message saying, "The Beefeater, London Road 7pm, don't be late, Mel S."

Tom felt elated, he suspected Mel would want a lot for her money but if he could only raise a few thousand pounds his life would be so much better. Tom arrived at the Pub early and waited outside. Mel arrived in a taxi and simply waved to him, indicating he should get in. He did.

Mel now told the taxi driver to drive to an address in Docklands. She asked the taxi to wait and said they would only be five minutes. Tom followed her into what looked like a slick city office of a firm of lawyers or accountants. Tom noticed some corporate logo on the wall and the inevitable pretty, efficient receptionist. Mel showed her ID and was directed to the first floor. Tom wondered what was going on, perhaps Mel was trying to get him a job in the mail room at her firm. This was not his idea at all. Could she have misinterpreted his approach so totally? There was nothing for it but to tag along and hope for the best, if she had misunderstood he could perhaps spell things out in more detail later.

The first floor had another logo, and another receptionist. This time Mel asked for Miss Daley and was ushered through to a modern office where she shook hands with a middle aged, formally dressed, lady. Tom was feeling bored and just knew he was wasting his (not very valuable) time.

"Ah, Ms Standish, it is always a pleasure."

"Yes Abbie, sorry I can't sit and chat but I have a taxi and a room full of bankers waiting. This is the man I was talking about; Tom's his name, sort him out will you. I will be back at 9pm."

"Tom sorry about this but Abbie will explain everything, we can talk later." With that Mel marched out the door and ran to the lifts.

Tom was so surprised he just remained standing. Until 'Abbie' started talking.

"Right Tom, I am Miss Daley."

"Do I get the impression Ms Standish has not explained Cartwright and Palmer's services."

"No, to be honest we are old friends and only met up last week for lunch."

"Come on Tom, old friends?"

"Yes Miss Daley, why?"

"Well she told me she had only met you once and you were effectively offering yourself as a submissive whore. In particular she said you agreed to perform any, and I emphasise any, sexual services she asked of you. Is that fair? Friend or whore which is it Tom?"

Tom's confidence went in a trice, he somehow mumbled, "Well perhaps 'whore' is more accurate now you put it like that, but I would like to stress I have only sold myself once and that was to Ms Standish some years ago. I wouldn't really categorise myself as a professional after one night."

"OK Tom, you aren't much good at whoring but we can work on that, now we understand each other. To Cartwright and Palmer you are a whore or perhaps more accurately a professional submissive. We cater for those with dominant personalities like Ms Standish. When she is not around you do as I say and follow my orders to the letter. Right now let's get you cleaned up."

Miss Daley ushered Tom along the corridor to what looked like a health club. "Right Tom this is where we clean you up. This is quite like a normal health club. The only difference is that you do exactly what you are told. Right, find a laundry bag over there and put all (and I mean all) your clothes in it then kneel outside that room on the right and someone will see to you."

Tom did as he was told and put all his clothes in a large laundry bag and knelt naked in front of an office marked 'Registration'. As he waited young women in nurses uniforms passed along the corridor. Few gave him a second glance. Eventually an attractive young woman poked her head out of the door and asked if he was 'Ms Standish's property?' He answered "Yes" and was told to step inside. He was asked to take a seat and was asked the normal bureaucratic questions, name, age, education etc. the only difference was he had a question as to his 'owner'. Half was through Tom crossed his leg and was given a hard whack with a hunting crop. It was made clear he should not cross his legs or cover his balls when on Cartwright and Palmer premises.

After the admin Tom was told to take a shower. He was then given a razor and told to shave himself, Ms Standish had apparently been most clear that all hair other that that on his head must go. Tom was getting cold feet. This was worse than his kidnapping at least they had left him with chest hair.

Tom thought his tactics had been pretty disastrous. He was naked somewhere in the Docklands, his clothes were now either being washed or perhaps shredded, one way or another he didn't have access to so much as a stitch of clothing and was now being asked to shave himself. Furthermore Mel had not even offered him a job (or did professional submissive have 'dates'?). She might not be prepared to pay anything like enough to get him out of his current predicament.

Tom eventually worked out he had better do as requested, Miss Daley did not look the sympathetic type. Shaving one's entire body is quite an exercise, Geo F Trumper could perhaps shave your face in five minutes but Tom would have liked to have seen them shaving legs or that space between the penis and anus. He covered himself in shaving foam and got to work, first the face, then the legs and finally the, oh so sensitive, pubic region. He had felt naked before, waiting outside the reception room, but now he felt a hundred times worse. He knew he had crossed his personal Rubicon and taken the first step to submitting himself to the life of what was now termed 'a sex worker'.

After he had finished he knocked on the door of the lady who had been helping him. He was told to come in and face the wall and spread his legs, the lady then carefully examined him as if he were a prospective purchase. She then told Tom to turn around and she examined his front. She did her work slowly and carefully, she was clearly professional, but at no time did she seem to acknowledge she was examining a living, thinking human being, a naked one at that. There were no reassuring words if such could be found. Tom seemed to pass the test as he was told to go to the next office and kneel at the door.

Another lady and another interrogation. This time Tom remembered not to cross his legs and to keep his arms on the rests. He was now weighed, his height measured and eventually asked to lie of a white PVC covered table. An older lady then came in and started to massage Tom, he felt massage was the technical term but if a massage conjures up soothing rubs with aromatic oil by a lady with loose morals, this was no massage, it was more like a wrestling match and one Tom lost comprehensively. The lady probed ever bone and joint from his head to foot, and when Tom said probed it was with a vigour of a Victorian matron (in a very bad mood). Tom was beginning to ache and understand he had passed over a 50% in interest in his body to Cartwright and Palmer.

At last Tom was ordered to lean across a table and 'present his arse'. This did not sound promising. He was mulling over if it would be needles or enemas. In fact he got both, several injections all done with the care and understanding of a rugby front row forward, a blood sample was taken and finally a cold hard tube was squeezed up his arse. Looking behind him he expected the middle aged dragon who had been ordering him around so far, in fact he saw a rather petite blond. Therefore it was an even greater surprise the force with which the tube was pushed up his anus. Tom had never really understood if the enema did anything useful or if it was just part of the plan to show him that he was really the lowest of the low. One way or another Tom's small tormentor forced a huge amount of water into his bowels to the extent he thought he would burst. The finale was not pretty.

At last the women in the white coats seemed happy and Tom was given an armband and told to wait in a kind of lobby. Tom noticed that all the chairs faced a mirror and the only alternative to watching CNBC was some weights. After a few minutes Tom crossed his legs and tried to go to sleep, as he did he heard a bleep from a small loudspeaker saying, "Slave 101, you have been warned you are not permitted to cross you legs whilst on Cartwright and Palmer premises and you are not permitted to sleep in the 'observation lounge'." Tom uncrossed his legs and started to watch a report on the 'prospects of the building industry in Monrovia', the answer if the reader is interested is that they are none too good, seemingly being pretty similar to Tom's prospects. Tom couldn't fathom why the room was called the 'observation lounge', but didn't really worry, the lack of body hair seemed to affect Tom's curiosity. He got a bit of a hint when the loudspeaker came to life again, "Slave 101, go to the front and place your hands behind your back...now turn around...touch your toes... good at ease". It was now pretty clears he had been 'observed'.

Eventually Tom noticed it was 9pm. Soon after there was another message through the loudspeaker, "Will slave 101 please present himself at door 2 of the observation lounge". Tom went to door 2 and waited but he got a shock when the loudspeaker said "Kneel slave 101, what do you think you are playing at?"

A moment later the door opened and Mel stood in front of him, Tom was relieved and rose saying, "Thank god, Mel I thought you had abandoned me".

"Tom you have to remember I am Mistress here, and you can't rise from your knees unless I give you permission, now let's start again".

Embarrassed, Tim, still naked, fell to his knees. Mel then invited him to rise as per proper protocol.

Mel was carrying a bit bag branded 'Cartwright and Palmer'. She told Tom to find some shorts and a sweatshirt. The black sweatshirt had the inevitable Cartwright and Palmer logo and number 101 on the front. The shorts were Lycra are like cyclists just much shorter. They also had the logo and his number '101'. The bag contained a few more pairs of shorts and T shirts with his number and the Cartwright and Palmer logo. The underwear was black and brief. There were various bikinis and G strings. Tom wondered when he would need them.

After Tom had dressed Mel invited him for a drink, "Sorry I did not give you any warning, I was in a rush and Abbie said they had an hour slot so I just jumped at the chance. I hope it did not come as a nasty surprise when I was registered as your 'owner'. You have probably learned quite a bit about this place. Essentially it provides submissive whores but is also a place where dominants lodge their own submissives. I have been a member for a few years but up to now have used other people's subs and it is all getting a little expensive."

"Great, so I am your economy drive."

"Tom remember where you are, you should finish all statements with 'Mistress'. But no you are not my economy drive you are my fantasy." A young woman appeared in a Cartwright and Palmer T shirt and brief skirt asking Mel what she and Tom would like to drink. Mel ordered for them both, as was the accepted protocol.

When the slave/waitress left Mel explained she had first call on Tom's time and would book ahead whenever possible, "If I do not require your services non slave owning members can book you at a price. 45% of the fee goes to you and 10% to me. A slave can make quite a bit of money if he or she is willing. The downside is that you have to serve men and women and some of the clients may have unusual tastes, remember you said you said at our interview you would do 'everything' Cartwright and Palmer take that very literally. If you don't like being a hooker, sorry submissive, you can resign giving 30 days notice. What do you think? Prepared to give it a go? I like this place and however much fun it would be to install you in some flat, it is here or nothing."

TimT1972
TimT1972
338 Followers