This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, or if you may be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read no further - delete the file.  Otherwise ....enjoy!

Protection
Book One of a Political Saga

By

Nessus

My life has changed and I am no longer the person I once was. When I look in the mirror I see a different being, a different soul with altered emotional intelligence. Such is life and such is my life.

How do I begin? Where do I begin?

My family was steeped in old money with the genteel facade that comes with a conservative tradition and a ruthless hunger for power hidden below that veneer. My name is Harvey Garret, the youngest of five sons. Being the baby of the family, I was spoilt endlessly by my father and my brothers, especially since my mother died while giving me life and, they say, I inherited her fine features, smaller statue and graceful manner. My brothers and my father towered over me but what I lacked in height I made up for in my ruthless quest for power.

While my brothers moved into professions such as law, science and the military, I focused on politics and, at twenty five years of age, I became the youngest member of parliament in the history of that fine old institution. The Prime Minister accepted me into his government after I won the by election for the seat caused by the death of a member of the Opposition. My winning was, he said, a testament to the youthful demeanour of his government.

He still didn’t accept me into Cabinet though and I moved into the backbenches. A few months after that, I met Jennifer at a reception at the Governors residence and my life changed. Slightly older than me, Jennifer was a stunningly beautiful redhead with an impeccable pedigree that would make her ideal for the wife of a future Prime Minister.

I wooed her, married her a year later and, a short time after the marriage, betrayed her regularly with small meaningless affairs designed to provide me with information on my enemies. Women found my soft androgynous appearance to be appealing and that, mixed with the sense of political power, made a powerful aphrodisiac. Jennifer was dutiful, gracious and the perfect political wife. She even made sure she wore flat shoes so she would not loom over me. I was on track to become the youngest Prime Minister in my country’s history.

That changed on a cold and windy night in the nation’s capital.

When parliament is sitting, Jennifer joins me in my small town house in the capital to accompany me to the many social events to allow us to publicly perform as the perfect couple. The paparazzi loved us and we always gave them plenty of photo opportunities with her regal beauty and my manufactured shy smile appearing on many a magazine cover. Magazines specifically aimed at female readers dubbed me “the most beautiful and sexiest man in politics” and they constantly asked my stance on the coming, so called,  “Women’s Bill” which would be tabled in Parliament soon. Unfortunately, our country has a history of prejudice and discrimination against females in all ways. This legislation, tabled by a maverick independent member, was designed to give women equality in all aspects of our country’s life with equal pay for equal work the most important issue. I would smile beautifully into the camera and wink, giving nothing away. Privately, I thought the idea of equality to be pure hogwash and knew no man would support it. . 

Jennifer was also very popular with all the magazines and was the most well known political wife in the country, even more than the Prime Minister’s wife. She was also always accepting invitations to speak at women’s luncheons, open flower shows and visit children’s hospitals. I knew she did it all to support her husband’s career.
 
One night, I had just showered after returning from a meeting and was relaxing on the sofa in our town house when I heard a noise in the dining room. “What was that?” I asked over the noise of the television news.

“What?” Jennifer asked, raising her head from her book.

“A noise. Did you hear a noise?” I snapped, pulling my robe around me as I stood. Suddenly, the door to the dining room opened and a tall powerfully built women stepped calmly into the room. Jennifer gasped and my heart started to pound as we both stared at the evil looking gun in her leather-gloved hand.

She was dressed entirely in black, dark glasses hiding her eyes and her hair was dark and cut into a spiky style. A small leather pouch was slung over her shoulder.

“Who are you?” I squeaked and she smiled down at me, tapping my forehead lightly with the barrel of the weapon.

“It’s not important but I’m Chorister Wolf. Sit, little man,” she said calmly and I felt myself pushed back onto the sofa. I wrapped the robe around me again and attempted to regain my dignity as well as my voice.

“What do you want?” I squeaked again, my heart pounding as I stared at that unwavering gun barrel. 

She ignored me and smiled at my wife. “Keep out of this,” she said calmly. “This does not concern you.” Jennifer nodded dumbly and sat wide-eyed and staring as the woman turned back to me. “I’m from the PFPP,” she announced. My mouth opened to ask the obvious question but she silenced me with a small gesture with the gun. “Don’t concern yourself with irrelevant knowledge. Needless to say the PFPP is a powerful global extreme feminist group committed to changing the lot of women throughout the world. Now,” she smiled as she aimed the weapon directly at my chest. “Tell me how you intend to vote for the Female Equality Legislation.”

I gulped. “I totally support it,” I lied and Jennifer looked at me strangely. 

“Bullshit,” the intruder said.

“How dare you!”  I spluttered in fake indignation.

A movement of the gun barrel silenced me. “Don’t bother to lie Harvey. I have confirmation of your comments to several ministers as well as other backbenchers. I suggest you don’t waste my time.”

I stared at the small twin reflection of me on her black glasses and my stomach churned. “Are you going to assassinate me?” I squeaked. She smiled and glanced at Jennifer who was watching the scene impassively.

“How melodramatic. No,” she laughed. “Not yet but you will vote for the legislation.

“Of course,” I lied quickly, knowing that voting for the bill would put my political aspirations in limbo for years.

She quickly stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face, forcing me back against the sofa, my head reeling with the force of the blow. “Don’t waste my time,” she repeated coldly, the gun inches from my eyes.

I blinked to clear my head and saw drops of blood fall from my face to the robe. My mouth was bleeding and I dabbed at it tentatively. My wife had a strange look in her eyes as she watched.

“You will vote the right way, Garret,” Chorister said coldly. “You might not think so now but you will. Her voice chilled me and as I struggled to sit up, I noticed my robe was gaping and my cock was showing. Blushing, I moved to close the robe when her voice stopped me.

“Don’t bother. In fact, open it all the way.” Shocked, I looked at her and the pistol pointed at my cock as it lolled lazily across my belly. “Here,” she said, tossing the small bag to Jennifer. “Open it.” Jennifer did so and removed a small tube made of a clear substance.

Jennifer examined it and, puzzled, looked at Chorister. “Don’t worry, Mrs Garret,” she said soothingly. “Sit next to your husband and thread his penis through the tube.”

I started in shock. “What do you think…”

“Shut up,” Chorister said icily. “Or I might change my mind and simply shoot you in the balls.” My face paled at that and Jennifer gingerly threaded my cock through the tube. I watched as my heart pounded and saw a strange glint in my wife’s eyes as she pulled my cock through it. It had been a while since she had even seen my cock. “The circle goes under his balls and then you lock it at the bottom,” Chorister instructed softly. “That’s right,” she said as the device clicked. “Perfect.”

Jennifer looked down at my cock encased in the strange device and, again, I thought I saw a faint glimmer of a smile pass across her lips.

“What is the meaning of this?” I croaked and Chorister laughed softly. “Control, Harvey. I now control your cock. That chastity tube is made from new industrial strength perspex and I have the only key. No metal so you’ll be able to get through the security scanners at Parliament. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to get an erection and you’ll have to sit to pee. No big deal,” she added as she smiled. “I know you’re thinking you can cut it off but that will require a laser saw and I’m guessing you don’t want a laser next to your little treasure.” I thought I heard a small giggle from Jennifer and I darted a look at her but she was staring out the window, her face hidden. “Of course, you could go public about this and ask for help. I’m sure the media will publicise your problem.”

“What is it you want?” I asked sullenly, my heart sinking with the realisation I was trapped.

“Your vote,” she said briskly. ‘Vote the right way on the Female Equality Legislation and I might take it off. Of course,” she added airily, “I might decide to shoot you. You have absolutely no choice in this,” she snapped and the gun disappeared in her coat. “I’ll be in touch, Harvey,” she said smiling coldly. “Goodbye, Mrs Garret,” she said more warmly as she vanished through the door.

Jennifer followed her after a moment and returned quickly. “She’s gone,” she said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. Her eyes travelled to my cock encased in the strange device and a smile appeared. “Well, well, well,” she said softly.

We stood in silence, stunned by the events of the past moments until Jennifer filled the void. “Reminds me of that old Joe Cocker song ‘She Came in the Bathroom Window’.”

I angrily wrapped the robe around me. “You weren’t much help!”

“What did you want me to do? Hit her over the head with the vase?”

“You’re enjoying this!” I accused.

“Me?” she said innocently. “I feel sorry for all those girlfriends of yours now you won’t be able to satisfy them.”

 “What do you mean?” I said, avoiding her eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean and you don’t have to be concerned as I don’t give a fucking damn.” 
Shocked, I watched in silence as she poured a drink. “So,” she said as she sipped. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said miserable for a moment until the anger began to rise again. “I was assaulted! This is a weird blackmail!”

“So report it to the police,” she said coolly. “I’m a witness and I’ll play the dutiful weepy wife who had to put her loving husband’s cock into a chastity belt. A cock I haven’t seen for a month or so!” She swallowed her drink hard and placed the glass down with a sharp rap. We remained in an embarrassed silence until she said, “Can you go to the police?”

I shook my head. “It will destroy my career.”

“Voting for the legislation will do the same, won’t it?”

“At least I won’t be a laughing stock. Fuck!” I exploded. “What terrible thing to do me!”

“Perhaps it’s deserved?” she said coldly, eyebrow raised as she turned to the door. “I’m going to bed. Sleep well.” As she left to go to her bedroom, I could have sworn I saw a smile on her face.

All night I tossed and turned, rising every hour or so to examine the fiendish device that Chorister had ordered Jennifer to fit on me. I would try a different way to remove, fail, return to bed and rise again as a new idea occurred to me. All failed and I fell into a fitful sleep at last.

I woke with pain in my cock and realised that the callous device was thwarting my morning erection. I think it was then that I realised that I was really at the mercy of Chorister, the holder of the only key to the chastity tube. A moment of panic swept over me. What if she lied? What if there wasn’t a key to unlock it and it was permanent? All kinds of scenarios flashed before me, all with a humiliating and embarrassing ending for me.

I threw myself into my political life for the next few days and it wasn’t until three days after that awful night that I actually saw Jennifer. We had another dinner to attend and I nervously waited for her in the lounge in my tuxedo, wondering if she had told anyone of my plight. The past few days had become the beginnings of a frustrated hell as my cock started to push against the restraint when beautiful women appeared. What made it worse was that a few of my girlfriends suddenly started to call me and whisper promises of such sensual desire that my cock was enveloped in a severe pain of frustration. And this was only after two days! How could I survive until the first reading of the legislation?

 Jennifer appeared in a tight red cocktail dress that took my breath away. She smiled and turned her bare back to me. “Zip me,” she said. My fingers trembled as I eased the zipper into position to cover the black lace of her bra strap, her perfume teasing me with its exotic musk and my cock pulsed. 

Turning to me, her large breasts highlighted in the low cut dress, she looked down at my crotch. “How have you been?” she asked, a faint twitch on her lips. I shrugged and she held her wrap to me so I could arrange it around her shoulders, my cock squirming again at the closeness of female flesh. 

A knock on the door and I looked at my watch. “That’s the driver. On time too.”

Jennifer swept before me but stopped her hand on the door. “When we’re finished with this boring function, we have something we must talk about. Until then, I’ll be the loyal political wife.”

I wondered what she meant but there was no further mention as we performed for the media and the public. Jennifer threw herself into the role of the loving wife, kissing me, holding my hand and resting her hand on my thigh when we sat. All of these movements’ great photo opportunities for the press but all, I’m sure, designed to increase my sexual tension. I was learning that Jennifer was, underneath the submissive wife veneer, a teasing bitch.  

At the dinner she leaned close to whisper in my ear, her hand lightly resting on my shoulder. “Do you like my dress?” she said softly. I nodded yes as her my cock pounded. “It’s so tight I could only wear my pantyhose. Otherwise, the panty lines would show.” She smiled at me and moved back, leaving my cock throbbing with the image of her naked under dress except for the sheer black pantyhose.

Somehow, I got through the dinner and we were seated in the back of the car, driving through the streets of the capital towards the town house. Jennifer’s dress had ridden up and my eyes were drawn to her legs in the sheer black nylon. She glanced at me and down to my crotch and back to my face. “Does it hurt when you try to get hard?” she said softly so the driver wouldn’t hear.

“Yes,” I croaked.

“Good,” she said simply and slowly pulled the hem of her dress a few inches further up her leg so I could see the dark band of nylon on her thigh. Jennifer stared out the window at the passing city while I couldn’t tear my eyes from her legs, even though it felt like my cock was in a vice. 

Finally, we were inside the town house and she tossed me her wrap while she poured a drink. “You said we had to talk,” I said nervously.

“Don’t worry,” she said, reading my mind. “I haven’t told anyone about it. Yet,” she added.

“What do you mean ‘yet’? Who would you tell?”

Jennifer sipped her drink and looked at me mischievously. “I might tell my lover.”

“Lover?” I exclaimed, shocked. “What lover?”

She arranged herself on the sofa and I felt my eyes drawn to her breasts cradled in the low cut dress. “I’ve decided to take a lover to satisfy my needs. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I used to rely on you and it’s been a month at least since your last wham bam thank you mam! Now that woman has locked you up so there is no hope of sex.”

I blushed. “But Jennifer,” I whined. “If anybody else knows, it could be dangerous for us.”

“So? What do I care if the world finds out a woman has put you in a chastity belt.”

“We’ll lose everything. The houses, your jewellery,” I said desperately and she appeared to be thinking. “Couldn’t you, you know?” I murmured and her cold eyes snapped to my face.

“What? Masturbate? I’ve been masturbating while you’ve been letting those little girls suck your cock. Masturbation doesn’t do it any more. No,” she said sipping her drink and staring into the fireplace, “I need something else.”

The only sound in the room for minutes was the loud ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the crackling of the fire, although I was sure she could hear the pounding of my heart. I had to stop her taking a lover. “Could I do something?” I asked timidly, blushing and her eyes fixed on me.

“To satisfy me?” she asked regally, an eyebrow raised. “What? Your cock is useless. Of course, what’s new.”

“What ever you want?’ I muttered, head bowed, humiliated by her last comment.

“I see,” she said placing the glass on the coffee table. “You’ll do what I want to get me off so I won’t find a man to fuck as that would damage your career?” I nodded. “You really are pathetic, aren’t you.” She stared at me for a moment and then, after appearing to make up her mind, slowly uncrossed her legs. “All right, let’s test it, shall we?” I stared fascinated as she slid her dress up around her waist, revealing the black pantyhose and spread her legs. “Come here and kiss me.”

Cock throbbing, I stood in front of her and bent to kiss her mouth but she pushed my head away. “No, you fool! Not on the mouth! Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Slowly, I knelt in front of her and moved my head to her crotch. I could see the hair of her pussy flattened against the black nylon and the puffy lips pressed also against the mesh. I pressed my mouth to the nylon, taking her heavy intimate aroma in as my cock throbbed painfully. Jennifer let me kiss he pussy through the nylon for a few minutes until she pushed me away, rearranged her clothing and smiled coldly at me.

“All right, we have a deal for a while until you fail to satisfy me. Understood?”  I mutely nodded my head. “Good, let’s go,” she said leading the way to her bedroom. “Get out of your dinner suit, take everything off except the white shirt and bow tie,” she commanded a strange smile on her face as she watched me follow her instructions.

I felt like a fool, naked except for my dinner shirt and bow tie. Take my shoes off,” she said and I knelt to do so. “Unzip me.” The dress puddled around her ankles and I gasped at the sight of her in the sheer black pantyhose and black lace bra. Tentatively, I reached to cup her magnificent breasts but she slapped my hands away. “Did I tell you to do that?”

“No,” I said softly.

“You don’t do anything until I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“Good. Unclasp my bra.” My hands trembled as I did so and my cock squirmed in the vice like grip of the tube. “Now, pull down my pantyhose.” I slowly slid the hose down, ogling at her bouncing breasts and the fluid globes of her bottom. 

Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed and she held my imprisoned cock in her hand as she examined the device. “This is a clever little thing, isn’t it?” she murmured to herself and then looked up at me. “Does it hurt badly?” I nodded, my eyes fixed on her breasts as they hung free. “Good,” she said with satisfaction and crawled up the bed, lying sprawled against the pile of pillows. “Lick me,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Lick me until I tell you to stop.”

I crawled between her legs and was greatly surprised by how wet she was. In the short time we’d been married, I couldn’t recall every seeing her so aroused as her pussy gleamed with her juices. Using my tongue and lips I began to caress her pussy and, after a moment, her finger appeared in front of me and I followed her red fingernail to the places she wanted me to caress. It felt like an eternity in that cramped position, my cock in pain as I licked and kissed but, suddenly, she clasped my head tight against her pussy as she moaned and groaned in the exquisite release of a massive orgasm.

She relaxed but, remembering her instructions, I continued to gently kiss the plump lips of her pussy until she pushed me away. “Enough,” she said in a breathy voice and I looked at, waiting for the next instruction. 

Jennifer giggled when she saw my face was slick with her juices. “That will do,” she said. “You can go but remember the deal.”

Slowly, I got to my feet, picked up my clothes and walked to the door. As I opened the door, her eyes travelled to my red and throbbing cock confined in the chastity tube. “It looks very painful,” she said in a teasing voice. “I hope you have a good nights sleep,” she added with a little giggle.

I shut the door behind me and walked slowly to my lonely bedroom.

Another lousy night kept awake with the unrelenting frustration so I only slept fitfully and I looked terrible when I finally emerged from the shower. I gulped some coffee down just as the driver arrived and I left for Parliament House leaving Jennifer, I assumed, still asleep.

Sylvia, my campaign manager greeted me at my office door. “My God, Harvey,” she said. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you very much,” I said as I brushed past her. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Sylvia studied me and then went through the list of functions that I had to attend before the bells rang and Parliament sat. “A quick drop-in at the Estimates Committee to work the room. I’ve allowed fifteen minutes.” She droned on. A plaque unveiling there, a hospital visit and photo opportunity, it was a busy day and I felt tired all ready. I also felt terribly depressed and I was on automatic pilot for the rest of the morning.

Around lunchtime, I was unveiling a commemorative plaque ain the grounds of a small school. I stumbled through my speech trying to ignore the front row of the audience that was filled with smiling mothers and tantalising crossed legs.

Mercifully, I finished and after shaking many hands, I started towards the gate with Sylvia. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed as we marched across the grounds. “That was fucking miserable.”

“I have a lot on my mind.” My cellular phone rang and I quickly answered it. “Garret,” I said as deeply as I could.

“Hello Harvey,” a mellow female voice, one I didn’t recognise, murmured in my ear.

“Who is this?” I asked impatiently. “How did you get this number?” I added, thinking it was a journalist.

“I can get anything I want. This is Chorister Wolf.” A tremor went through me and Sylvia looked at me so I turned away.

“What do you want?” I whispered urgently.

“I’ve been watching you Harvey. You look terrible. Aren’t you getting any sleep?” She laughed softly and I looked around in case she was nearby. “I thought you’d be glad to hear from me, considering I have something you want. You do want it, don’t you Harvey?”

“Yes,” I hissed.

“What?” she said in mock innocence.

“You know very well. The key!”

“I suppose it would feel nice to let it out for a while,” she said and my poor cock stirred again in the vice, causing me to wince in pain. “Was that a grimace on your face, Harvey? Just saying that make it hurt?”

Heart thudding, I realised she was watching me from some hidden vantage point. “Where are you? “ I demanded, waving Sylvia away as she came close, tapping her watch.

“Watching you. Tell me, would you like it out for a while?”

“Yes,” I said in a small voice.

“I’ll think about it, Harvey, if you come through for us. I want you to let the media know you’re going to support the legislation.”

“Now?” I hissed in shock.

“Today or tomorrow. It’s being tabled next week.”

“What! It can’t be.”

“It is.” She chuckled down the phone. “We applied some pressure and it’s moved up.” My mouth hung open in shock as I listened. Sylvia’s phone rang and she quickly answered it. “Is that your campaign manager?” Chorister asked.

“Yes,” I mumbled as I scoured the surrounding buildings for a sign of Wolf.

“Get your campaign manager on the job, Harvey. Let the news out today and we might let you know what out tonight. Tomorrow will be your last chance to let it out, Harvey, if you get my drift.” She chuckled again and the phone went dead.
 
Sylvia almost ran over. “The Women’s Bill is being tabled next week!” she announced in excitement as I walked briskly to the car. Sylvia clambered in and the car moved away. “Did you hear me, Harvey? Next fucking week!”

“I heard you, Sylvia,” I said, adjusting my tie and straightening my unruly hair. I had hair that was deeply black and thick with a life of its own as it fell over my forehead.

"Stop trying to look beautiful and talk to me!" she said in a hoarse voice from too many cigarettes. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully as I stared out the window at the darkening landscape.

"I'll tell you what to do. You don't give an opinion and you tell everyone you're thinking this important legislation through. You stall, Harvey," she said, jabbing me in the chest for added emphasis.

With her words ringing in my ear, I slid into my seat on the backbenches as someone from some obscure electorate rambled on about Mad Cow Disease. My head was swimming and my cock was in constant pain so I was torn between political survival and sexual frustration.

When Parliament rose for the day, I was exhausted and dozed in the back of the car as it wound its way through the city to my town house. I could hear music as I shut the door and saw Jennifer sprawled on the lounge watching television in her negligee, a gin and tonic on the coffee table and, judging by her flushed face, not her first for the night.

“Hello,” I said nervously, my cock squirming in its prison. “Thought I’d have a shower. Bit tired,” I added lamely.

She didn’t even look at me when she spoke. “Good idea. After your shower, come back here to kiss your loving wife goodnight. Don’t bother about putting any clothes on.”

Flushing in humiliation at her tone, I showered and returned self-consciously naked except for the cruel chastity tube that imprisoned my cock. She looked me up and down with a scornful expression. “Hardly a manly physique,” she said cruelly. “I’ve got more muscle than you and more height.” She laughed and swung her legs apart, sliding the negligee up to reveal her pussy, already glistening. I knew then that humiliating me aroused Jennifer.

Cock throbbing in dull pain, I knelt to my task and began licking her plump pussy lips, her musky perfume enveloping my nostrils. Once again, I obeyed her wordless instructions by following her red fingernail with my mouth.  Once again, it seemed an eternity as I crouched on the hard carpet, licking her cunt as the television news droned on behind me.

With a guttural groan, she clamped her legs around my head and roughly pulled my face into the very depths of her pussy, almost suffocating me in the movement until she reluctantly released me. Gasping for air, her juices glistening on my face, I rocked back on my heels and waited.

Jennifer opened her eyes and smiled cruelly at me. “That’ll do for now,” she said, “but we have to find something better. It’s getting boring.”

How it could be boring after just twice escaped me but I hobbled from the room, moving slowly because of the intense pain in my groin and collapsed on my bed after taking sleeping tablets. 

I needed to sleep, to escape from the turmoil that had become by life.

The sleeping tablets worked after a fashion as I slept through the night but felt fuzzy headed even after a shower. I dressed in a dark pin-stripe suit, white shirt with French cuffs and gold cuff links. A restrained Italian tie finished the picture and I stared at myself critically in the mirror. My thicj hair and fallen over my forehead and I had small black circles under my eyes. My eyes were the darkest brown, so brown they appeared black and large. Women had told me they would kill for eyes like mine while I would kill to look a little more masculine. The heavy suit and the shoes with higher than average heels helped but I still managed to appear androgynous.

The cell phone rang. “Hello,” I said, deepening my voice through habit.

“Harvey,” Sylvia said without preamble. “The press are waiting for you at Parliament House. We need to rehearse your answers.”

“I know what I’m going to say,” I said calmly, walking to the lounge room where there was no sign of Jennifer. “I’m going to tell them I’m going to support it.”

“You can’t be fucking serious!”

“Completely serious, I’m afraid.”

“Why? Can you tell me that?”

“I believe in it,” I said, attempting to drive a note of sincerity into my voice.

“Crap! You’ve never believed in anything except your self. Don’t move and don’t say anything to anybody. I’m coming right over.”

Sighing, I sat on the sofa and waited.
 
Sylvia burst through the door just as the car pulled up. “Have you lost your fucking sense?”

Jennifer emerged in her robe from her room. “This is a lot of excitement for as early as this.”

Sylvia turned to Jennifer, seeking an ally. “This fool is going to support the Women’s Bill! Talk some sense into him, Jennifer!”

Jennifer looked at me in a strange way. “Well, well,” she said softly. “Interesting,” she added and left the room, leaving Sylvia staring after her.

“Has everyone lost their brains?”

I stood up. “The car is here. I’m going to Parliament. You’re welcome to come along if you wish.”

Sylvia stared at me, shaking her head slowly. “You mean it. You’re really going to do it. You’re throwing everything away,” she said walking past me to the car and I followed her into the cold.

We drove in silence until the car pulled up and I emerged, head down as I pushed through the media scrum. The glass doors to the wing were locked and I had to tap on them to gain the attention of the security guards. The media gathered around with their cameras and microphones as they clamoured for my attention.

Suddenly, Judy Wagner, the influential journalist stood in front of me, microphone ready. “Mr Garret,” she said and the throng’s shouts dropped to a hush. “Mr Garret, are you aware the Women’s Bill will be tabled next week?”

My mind was racing as I sought to frame acceptable political answers that would give nothing away. Sylvia moved close and so did Judy Wagner, her perfume suddenly arousing me. My cock squirmed and I realised all I wanted to do was to come, I wanted an orgasm! And nothing else mattered!

“Yes, I’m aware, Judy,” I answered trying to get my voice down for the cameras so I wouldn’t appear on TV with a high pitched voice. Luckily I was on the top step and Judy on two below me so we were at least equal in height for the cameras.

“This is a contentious bill, Mr Garret. Can you tell us where you stand?” The press crowd grew absolutely silent as they waited. I had teased them for months and now I had three choices, give political answers that neither confirmed nor denied or give them a yes or a no. It was really very simple. My eyes drifted over the crowd and I started in shock for leaning against a telephone pole, dressed in a black leather overcoat with arms folded, was Chorister Wolf. Swallowing hard, I knew there was no turning back.

Judy pushed the microphone closer as I cleared my throat. “Are you asking me if I will support the bill?”

Judy looked at me strangely as I was pushing her to ask me a question that I could only answer with a yes or a no. “I’m asking exactly that. Harvey Garret, will you support the Women’s Bill when it’s tabled in Parliament next week?”

There was an expectant hush and I looked into the camera and smiled. “Yes,” I said calmly, although my heart was pounding. The crowd erupted into an uproar and Judy Wagner looked at me in shock and then, in an impetuous gesture, she kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said and looked back into the camera. “You just heard the brave Harvey Garret declare his stance for women. This is Judy Wagner.”

Sylvia dragged me inside and stared at me as the security guards pushed the media back. “Do you know what you’ve done?” she yelled. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m out of something,” I muttered as I miserably walked down the hall, my shoes echoing on the tiles. “I’m going to the House,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Maybe I can get some sleep there.”

Sleep was the last thing I could do on the benches of the House. Word had spread and I received many glares from the males who dominated the house and cautious smiles from the few female members. An usher scrambled over to me while a member droned on about the state of the game of cricket and handed me a note from Ernest Copeland, the Chief Whip. 

Following the note’s instructions, I walked to his quarters. “What the fuck to you think you’re doing, Garret?” he asked in that terribly Eton accent of his. “Who told you to say you would support that dammed Bill?”

“Forgive me, I thought is was a conscience vote.” Copeland was a big man with bushy eyebrows and he angrily towered over me.

“Don’t be impertinent, boy! There is no such thing! Get out there and change it! Now!”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.”

He stared at me for a long moment and then slowly nodded. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought. Goodbye Garret.”

It was later that night that the Prime Minister appeared on television and castigated me for everything he and the party hacks could think of, even alluding to problems with my sexuality. It didn’t matter and when I emerged from the House a small group of women protesters cheered. At least I was somebody’s hero.

The media were waiting for me at my town house but I managed to push through the crush without making a comment. They just wanted photos any way so I stood on the top step, smiled beautifully into the cameras and gave a victory sign. At least, I sighed to myself, I’m still driven by political instinct, spinning the situation.

I was surprised to see Chorister Wolf seated calmly on the sofa when I returned to the town house. As usual she was dressed in black and she had her small bag at her boots. Jennifer sat on the edge of her chair, darting worried looks at her and sipping a gin and tonic.

“Did you use the door this time?” I asked wearily as I shut the door behind me. “I hope they didn’t see you.”

She smiled and I saw my reflection in her dark glasses. “Nobody sees me unless I want them to,” she said enigmatically.  “Jennifer and I have been having a little chat. I hear you’ve been learning your place and even, perhaps, learning new skills?”

I flushed and glared at Jennifer who coolly stared back. “What do you want?” I asked Wolf.

“To congratulate you. It was handled well.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m also here to reward you.” Chorister smiled at me and my cock pulsed painfully. “You do want a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said softly, blushing but I was beyond caring and my whole body was focused on getting relief.

Chorister stood up. “Your bedroom?” she smiled and I silently led the way. Chorister looked around the room, spied the small chair I sit in to put my shoes on and placed her bag on the bed. “Take your clothes off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought you wanted a reward? A little relief?”

“Yes, yes,” I hurriedly agreed and stripped my clothes off. Humiliated, I sat on the chair when she indicated and watched as she casually lounged on the bed. She stood with the key in her hand.

My heart was pounding and my cock throbbing when she smilingly produced the key and removed the tube. Unbidden, my cock surged into hardness and an involuntary groan escaped my lips. “Feels good, huh?” she smiled. She had no idea how good it felt, to be free, to feel hard!

“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned. “I can drop you with one kick, I wouldn’t even have to use my gun. Understand?” I nodded, my hard cock bobbing in my groin. “Good, I’ll get some tissues,” she said, leaving the room and leaving me puzzled. Chorister returned with Jennifer trailing behind, a sly smile on her face. “Here,” said Chorister extending the tissues, “you’ll need those.”

“For what?” I asked puzzled. Wasn’t one of these women going to wank me?

“You know. Come on, we don’t have all night,” Chorister said.

“Play with yourself, Harvey,” sneered Jennifer. “That’s what she means.”

“But, I thought you would do it,” I said, faltering.

Chorister laughed. “Are you crazy? I don’t touch dicks, it’s not in the job description.”

“Me?” Jennifer sneered. “You are joking. You get no pleasure from me, ever again.”

Both women towered over me as I sat naked on the chair with my hard cock twitching in my groin. Jennifer had a sly grin on her face while Chorister was impassive behind her glasses.

“Small, isn’t it?” Jennifer said to Chorister who looked down at my hard cock and I blushed deeply. “Now you know why I’m thinking of a lover. Look at that body,” she sneered and I felt Chorister ‘s eyes on me.  

Humiliated, I hung my head and looked down at my pulsing cock. It had been so long. I needed relief and, in spite of the intense humiliation I was feeling, I was going to get relief so I slipped my fingers around my hard cock.

“That’s it,” breathed Jennifer, leaning forward to watch. “Jerk it for us.”

I decided to ignore them and I closed my eyes and started that familiar rhythm with my hand sliding up and down my cock. It was wonderful.

“Look at me,” demanded Jennifer but I ignored her and kept jerking, my mind and body full of exquisite delight as I rushed towards orgasm. I grunted as I spurted, my seed flying through the air.

“Go boy,” Chorister murmured and I felt her toss the tissues onto my belly as I lay back in wonderful relief, a sense of loss but a sense of fulfilment. The male orgasm.

Chorister waited until I cleaned up, put the tube back on and unlocked me. Without a backward glance I started to walk to my room.

“You just jerked off in front of us,” hissed Jennifer. “How do you feel!” she demanded shrilly, trying to humiliate me more.

“I feel like sleep,” I said softly and kept walking until I collapsed in my bed.

I slept well that night.
 
And sleep I did a long deep refreshing sleep. I felt great when I woke up, even my sense of humour had returned and except for the cruel binding on my cock I was on top of the world. Then it all came flooding back.

I flushed when I remembered Jennifer’s comments and thought how the past events had changed her into a dominating bitch. Had she always been that way? Her remark about not being satisfied was designed to humiliate me but it also let me know she was close to getting the threatened lover. Time was running out and I had to get this damn thing off my cock before she told anyone. Once it was off, it would be her word against mine.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I shaved and recalled Jennifer’s comments about my manliness. I had always considered myself slight in build but ‘unmanly’? I wondered if the other women I’d fucked had thought the same. Had they been attracted to me, the person or were they, like the media, focussed on my face and my so-called beauty?  I wondered now about the articles in the magazines where they had labelled me as ‘a beautiful man’.

Showered and dressed in an impeccable dark grey suit, I walked through the house and saw no sign of Chorister but I could hear movement in Jennifer’s room. She was getting ready for her day.

As I drove away, my cell phone rang. “Harvey,” Sylvia said abruptly. “I quit.”

“But, why?” I asked, stunned.

“You ask why?” she said incredulously. “You’ve ruined everything we worked for and I’m not staying on the Titanic. Have fun.” She broke the connection and I stared at the dead phone. It was going to be a tough week.

I had no idea just how tough it was going to get. The press was waiting for me at my office so the driver took me around the back and as I was getting out, the driver spoke to me. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, not meeting my eyes, “but the car service has been withdrawn.”

“Withdrawn? For all Members?”

“No sir, just you.”

“I see.” Copeland and the Party were applying pressure. “Thank you.” I walked away, slipped into my small office and started going through the correspondence. You would think that after some time as a politician I would be immune to hate mail. That day I received hate mail more venomous than I had ever seen. Thankfully, there was a sprinkling of congratulatory comments from women’s groups, female actors’ etc.

My reception in the lunchrooms was icy from male members from both sides of the house and, at the end of the day, I realised I had not conversed with a soul all day. As politicians survive by networking, exchanging information and making deals, that one fact highlighted how ostracised I had become.

After the House rose I walked automatically to the underground car park until I realised there was no car waiting for me and I would have to find another way home. As I had left my departure until after everyone else, the car park was mainly empty and I stood in the centre trying to remember how I could walk out to catch a taxi.

A car suddenly switched its lights on and I felt a tremor of fear. The thought occurred to me that it was possible for some of the lunatic fringe to be waiting for me to beat me up or worse. Looking around, I realised I was very much alone. So, what’s new, I thought? 

The car eased up and the back window slid down and I saw the welcome face of Lisa McAullife, a radical independent lesbian Member of Parliament. “They’ve taken your car?” she asked in that lilting brogue and I nodded. “Get in,” she said crisply. “I’ll take you home.

Gratefully, I slid in the back, feeling the driver’s eyes on me as I settled next to Lisa. “Thank you,” I said as the car sped away.

“Not a problem,” she said looking hard into my eyes. “You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

“Stupid, I’m afraid,” I admitted. “Not brave at all.”

“The Bill is not going to pass. We don’t have the numbers so why do it?”

“It’s a long and painful story,” I sighed.

“And none of my business,” she smiled. “I can take a hint.” We rode in silence except for my directions to the town house.

“Thanks again for your assistance,” I said formally.

“Good luck. You’ll need it, boyo,” she said as the car wheeled away.

I let myself in, grateful there was no media and found Jennifer waiting in the lounge room “About time,” she snapped. She was wearing her robe and sipping some tea, a small parcel on the coffee table. “I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

“I don’t have a car or driver any more. I had to find another way home.”

“I don’t care. All I care is I’m horny and I need your services.”

Astonished, I gaped at her as it was unlike her to use such language or to be such a sexual person. This wasn’t the Jennifer I married. “Of course,” I said wearily. “What do you want?”

“I want you clean and naked in my room in fifteen minutes.” Jennifer picked up the parcel and stalked off.

After my shower, I found her laying on the bed naked, her large breasts rising and falling as she lay on the mound of pillows, her legs splayed so I could see her pussy lips clearly. “Get to it,” she said, watching me through heavy lidded eyes and I wondered what she was planning.

I licked and kissed, my cock burning in its chastity tube as I worked at my new task. Jennifer was heavily aroused and very wet so I was surprised when she pushed me away, a sly smile on her face. “I have a surprise for you,” she murmured. “Open that parcel.”

In the parcel was an obscenely large black dildo with straps on the end. My astonishment must have shown as Jennifer burst out laughing. “What do you think it is?” she giggled.

“It’s a dildo,” I said softly.

“No,” she corrected. “It’s a cock. A big fat cock,” she said, shocking me even more. “A cock that is twice the size of yours, possibly closer to three times,” she added cruelly and I blushed.

“What do you want me to do with it?” I asked quietly, head bowed.

“I want you to put it on,” she said with glee. “Come here and I’ll show you.” Embarrassed beyond belief, I stood in front of her as she inserted my cock in its tube inside the dildo and then strapped the entire device. The large erect dildo jutted from my groin with my own cock buried inside it. I was humiliated and I felt my face go red.

“Well, look at you,” she laughed. “Lie on the bed.” She squatted over me and eased the fake cock into her as I lay under her. My cock pulsed at the erotic sight of her above me, her large breasts swinging free as she slid up and down the cock. I could feel nothing, nothing at all and that was the most frustrating thing.

Her body slammed into mine as she rose and fell faster and faster until she screamed with the explosion of her orgasm, leaving me frustrated and numb. Jennifer pulled herself off the fake cock with an obscene pop and collapsed on the bed beside me. She giggled at the sight of the huge black cock jutting from my body. “You should be glad I’ve given you a big black cock,” she giggled. “A huge improvement.” She laughed softly and then her tone changed. “Get out,” she snapped. “Don’t forget to clean your new toy.”

When I finally crawled into my bed, my cock burning in the chastity tube, I felt my world had collapsed around me.

The next few days were a nightmare with constant hounding by the press and made a complete outcast by my former colleagues. Sylvia even ignored me when we passed each other in the corridors of the House.

Jennifer was revelling in her new found power over me and enjoyed telling me to get my ‘new big cock’ when she was feeling aroused which seemed to be an awful lot lately.

Using the fake cock was the most humiliating experience because my own cock locked in its chastity tube slid inside it and even though it was sliding in and out of her pussy, I felt nothing but burning frustration. I suspected Jennifer knew that and that’s why she insisted on me using it.

I was walking through the cold evening towards a taxi when the cell phone buzzed.

“Hello?” I said warily.

“Chorister Wolf. How are you holding up?”

A deep sigh escaped me. “I think I’m surviving.”

“The Bill reaches the House the day after tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you still on track?”

“I have no choice, do I? I have to see it through. Tell me Wolf, why bother with this? The Bill isn’t going to pass. It’s a waste of time.”

Chorister chuckled. “Of course the Bill will fail but it’s all part of the plan.”

“And I’m one small cog?”

“No, you’re a big one. Don’t forget to vote.”

The next two days passed like the others. Jennifer and I had made no social appearances because the regular events had all rescinded their invitations. The word pariah seemed to fit me.

Finally, the day of the Bill and, in reality, an anti-climax with it all over very quickly. The overwhelming majority of the House voted against with only the few female members and myself voting for it. My action was greeted with a few whispers of ‘shame’ and a few louder boos.

The media was waiting when we emerged and I saw Lisa McAulife talking to a group of reporters and other female Members being interviewed but when I walked out, the press swooped on me, led by Judy Wagner.

“Are you disappointed, Harvey Garret,” Judy Wagner asked, microphone in my face.

“This is the first battle in a long war. We will win in the end,” I said as I pushed through the crowd with the one thought in my head that it was finally over. That damned device will now be removed! I was eager as I was so frustrated, even the events of the past few days had failed to dull my frustration.

Chorister was waiting at the townhouse when I pushed through the media crowd. Jennifer was seated on the sofa, seeming a little subdued.

“It’s over,” I said to Chorister. 

She smiled and I wondered what colour her eyes were behind those dark glasses she permanently wore. “No, it’s not over.”

“You got what you want!”

Chorister laughed. “No, not yet. This is just the beginning.”

“You promised!” I shouted at the beginning of a childish temper tantrum.

“Did I?” she said. “PFPP is a very powerful group, Harvey. We have resources and people at our disposal that you could not even imagine. You will do what we want with no exceptions. That cock tube stays on until I say so. You have absolutely no choice,” she added.

I slumped on the sofa and held my head in my hands. “I’m ruined,” I moaned. “Ruined.”

“No, you’re a hero,” Chorister said. “You are a hero, we have to capitalise on that.”

“What do you mean?”

“A little tour for the both of you around the countryside. A few speaking engagements with you talking about how the battle isn’t over. I liked that quote, by the way. One week and then it’s over.”

“One week?”

“One week of touring.”

“What if I say no?”

Chorister laughed and Jennifer offered a weak smile. “You can’t, Harvey. You can’t.

I realised I had no choice, Chorister Wolf had the bargaining ace, the key to my chastity tube and I was trapped until she decided. “Ok,” I said in a small voice.

“Cheer up, Harvey,” Chorister said, laughing. “It won’t be so bad and you’ll enjoy all the media attention. Now,” she said, standing up. “Would you like me to take it off for a few minutes?”

I stared up at those black lenses and felt myself flush in embarrassment but I was driven by the need to come. “Yes,” I said softly, head bowed. Chorister Wolf smiled and silently led the way into my bedroom where, still in silence, I stripped while she watched me from the bed.

Calmly, she tossed me the key and leaned back against the pillows, the butt of her pistol showing under her open coat. Jennifer walked in with a box of tissues, giving them to be without a word. Under the gaze of the two women, I started to jerk off.

“If I have my way, Harvey,” Jennifer said quietly, “you will only have your hand for the rest of your life.” I knew then she hated me with a passion I had long unsuspected.

Ignoring them, I concentrated on coming, my hand sliding up and down my now slippery cock. It felt wonderful and I rushed to the edge, spurting into the wad of tissues I held in my other hand. Jennifer glowered down at me. “You’re pathetic,” she said and left the room.

Silently, I cleaned up and picked up the chastity tube, sliding in on my shrunken cock. Chorister checked it to make sure it was locked, dropped the key into her pocket and, without a word, left the room.

Numb, I crawled into my bed and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Chorister had arranged for a car to pick Jennifer and myself up with our bags to drive us to the airport. We travelled in silence and, in fact, when we were alone, we were completely silent. In public, the performance took over and Jennifer slipped into the role of the loving supportive wife who was so proud of her brave husband for standing up for what was right. The media lapped it up.

I read the speeches that I was given and I noticed that there were always references to Jennifer and how she was my soul mate who had, just by her own example, influenced me into making the decision to vote for the Bill.

Jennifer would smile modestly, blow me a shy little kiss and the flash guns exploded to take that picture to the front page of every newspaper and, of course, onto the cover of every women’s magazine in the world.

As the week dragged on, I realised more and more that this exercise was not about promoting me but aimed at increasing Jennifer’s profile. By the end of the week, the crowds were more interested in hearing what she had to say than listening to me. I didn’t care, I just wanted this week to end.

Towards the end of the week, we were returning from a function and I was tired but Jennifer seemed full of energy. My cock was pulsing constantly by now after all the stroking and caressing Jennifer had inflicted on me for the cameras. I’m sure she knew it was driving me crazy and it added an extra zest to her performance.

I undid my bow tie and sank back into the seat with a sigh. Jennifer was dressed in a sophisticated black cocktail dress with black nylons; the rasp of nylon against nylon when she crossed her legs had driven me crazy all night.

“One more night to go,” she said, half to herself.

I was surprised she was talking to me. “And then what?” I asked and she turned to me, a mysterious smile on her beautiful face.

“Changes.” She slid back in the seat and slowly opened her legs. There was tinted glass between the driver and ourselves so we had complete privacy in the darkened vehicle. I strained to see up her dress in the shadows but only caught a glimpse of her stocking tops. My cock jerked against its unforgiving prison at the thought of her wearing stockings.

“For old times sake,” she murmured, reaching over and pulling my head towards her crotch.

“But, what if someone sees?” I protested, my head moving closer and I saw she wasn’t wearing panties.

“It’s dark,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Kiss me.”  Her hand forced me down to my knees and in a matter of seconds, I was servicing my wife in the back of the limousine as we sped through the city streets. 

I licked and sucked at her pussy and, just as the vehicle pulled to a stop, she convulsed in her urgent orgasm. Quickly, she rearranged her dress and I scrambled to my feet, opening the door to the street.

As I fumbled for the key to our hotel room, Jennifer giggled. “The driver certainly stared at you,” she laughed softly. “You’ve got me all over your face.” Still laughing, she walked ahead of me and I sheepishly wiped my face with my handkerchief as we walked into the hotel lobby. There were media waiting so Jennifer quickly fell into her role and linked her arm through mine as she smiled and waved to the photographers. “If only they knew,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth, “that minutes ago you were on your knees licking my pussy.”

The tour wound up the next day and we flew back that evening, arriving at our town house late that night. Jennifer seemed tense but I thought no more about it until we walked in and found Chorister waiting for us in the lounge room.

“It’s finished,” I said and she nodded.

“That part is, time for the next part.” 

Jennifer poured herself a drink and stood against the mantelpiece watching. “Next part? What next part?” I demanded.

“You’re going to get very sick.”

“I beg your pardon?” Had I heard right?

“Ill, you’re going to get very ill. Some kind of stroke, I think.” Chorister produced her pistol and pointed it casually at me.

“You’ll end up in a wheelchair,” Jennifer said coldly. “A sad shadow of you former self but your dutiful wife will carry on. The media will love it, especially since they now know me so well.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, on the verge of hysteria, as two women in white uniforms suddenly walked from the bedroom. “Who are these people?” I shouted and Chorister walked to me and seized my arm, the barrel of the pistol inches from my eyes.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it is.” She pushed me against the wall, her forearm pressed against my throat and I struggled for breath. It was then that I saw one of the women in white had a hypodermic needle and the other seized my wrist, exposing a vein.

“No!” I shouted as the needle was plunged into my wrist, it’s contents injected into my body.

“Goodbye, Harvey,” Jennifer said coldly, drained her drink and I slumped into darkness.

I slowly slipped back into conscious and found myself in a bed in what I guessed to be a hospital room. The white gauze curtains on the window floated on a small breeze and one of the women in white sat on a chair next to the bed.

She noticed my eyes were open, nodded and left the room. A few moments later, Chorister entered and sat on the chair, leaning forward so she could whisper in my ear. “I know you can hear me,” she said, “so listen carefully. The drug inhibits movement to such a point that your body movements will be erratic and spasmodic. Your vocal chords are frozen and you can just make guttural sounds so, to all extents and purposes, you appear to be suffering some massive stroke.”

I tried to speak and animalistic growls escaped my lips, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t bother to try, Harvey. You will be compliant and go along with everything we plan today. If you don’t,” she leaned even closer, “I will slowly kill you..” She left without a word.

A few minutes later Jennifer, dressed in black, walked in and sat in the chair, a cruel hard smile on her face. Suddenly, the smile was gone and she appeared concerned, worried as she gently took my hand.

I knew why when the door opened and a group of people entered. I could see Copeland, Wagner and then, to my shock, my brothers and my father. They shuffled in, whispering and Jennifer smiled bravely at them through teary eyes.

Another woman in white entered and addressed the group. “There is no need to whisper, ladies and gentlemen. The patient’s brain has been almost wiped by the massive stroke and has the basic understanding of a puppy.”

I tried to speak and they turned at the sound of the guttural noises. My head jerked, lolled aimlessly around the pillow while saliva ran from the side of my mouth. Jennifer wiped it away and I felt tears forming as I realised I was in a hopeless situation.

“So, what’s the bottom line?” my father asked as always straight to the point.

“I’m sorry, Mr Garret but this is not your son any more. Your son has died and this is just a shell left behind.”

A few murmured comments I couldn’t hear. “The poor bastard,” Judy Wagner said, shaking her head. 

Copeland moved to the end of the bed. “Jennifer, you have our sympathies,” he said. “If there’s anything we can do?”

“Thank you,” Jennifer said. “You’re very kind.” Her voice was soft and a lone tear rolled down one cheek. What an actor, I thought and wondered just how long she had put on a performance for me.

“Mrs Garret,” the doctor said. “There’s nothing you can do here. We just have to wait for nature to take its course.”

“I can’t go,” she said softly, clutching my hand. “I must stay with my husband.”

My father and brothers came to the bed and stared down at me, each in their own way saying goodbye. One by one they left the room until only Judy Wagner remained. “Mrs Garret,” she said softly, “I know this is a difficult time but do you think it would be possible for one last photograph? One last time as a couple.”

Jennifer nodded and a few moments later a photographer entered. Photographs of Jennifer clutching my hand, wiping the saliva and, the climax, her head lying on my chest. Finally, murmuring thanks, Wagner and the photograph backed out of the room.

Within seconds, Jennifer dropped my hand and smiled cruelly at me as Chorister slipped in. “This is the end, Harvey,” Jennifer said. “We’ve planned this from the start, the marriage, everything. You see, I’m the one who will be Prime Minister, not you!”

My head lolled again and she laughed. “You’re ready to hide him?” she said to Chorister who nodded, eyes hidden by the glasses. “I want him punished, Wolf for that terrible marriage I had to go through for PFPP! The way I’ve told you. When I think it’s enough, it will end! I’ve been promised that.”

Chorister nodded. “I know. I follow orders. We are prepared.”

Jennifer slapped me hard in the face but I didn’t feel it. “I know you can’t feel it, worm but it makes me feel better! This is finally goodbye.” She walked out of the room and Chorister watched her go.

“You really pissed her off,” she said half to herself. One of the nurses poked her head around the door and Chorister nodded. The nurse expertly injected me and I plummeted into darkness.

My cell is a one-bedroom cottage in the middle of empty fields with small road faintly visible in the distance. A high wire fence which, I think, is electrified surrounds the house. I don’t know where I am, even what country I am in as in the past few weeks, no one has visited me. There are signs on the fence but I’m in the wrong position to see what language they’re written in.

There is a television set with a DVD player but it can not receive any stations so I am totally cut off from the world. When I woke I found myself here, naked except for my cock tube and no clothes what so ever in the house. I inspected the fence and realised very quickly I could not get over it without dying. After a few restless, fuming days, I accepted my fate and settled down to my prison. My only concern is my rising sexual frustration with no sign of relief.

The only consolation is a wall of books and movies on DVD, which I use to fill in my endless days. Unfortunately, I have to be selective as to the movies as the wrong choice, that is one with beautiful women or nudity, causes immense pain in my cock. The pantry was well stocked and I assumed someone would arrive to fill it in due course. Either that or to kill me.

There is a fax machine but it’s unable to send, although I suspected it could receive. I was right when, after three weeks it suddenly burst into life a message on a single piece of paper emerged.

“You will receive a visitor tomorrow at three in the afternoon. You will find a leather hood, a chain, a lock and a key in the third drawer in the kitchen. You will put the key outside the front door, chain yourself to the large wooden chair, making sure the padlock is secure. You must have the leather hood covering your face. If your visitor sees your face, you will be executed.”

I read it again and again and each time I felt chilled. There was no doubt I would obey the instructions exactly.

And I did and a few minutes prior to three, I sat chained to the chair with the leather hood covering my face. The hood had eyeholes and holes to breathe through and I sat staring at the door, waiting with pounding heart. Was I going to be executed anyway? Was this the end?

I heard a faint sound and with ears straining, realised the gate was being unlocked. My visitor was here! A few moments later footsteps on the small porch and the sound of the key scraping on the tiles as someone picked it up. Soon the door opened slowly and I shut my eyes, heart pounding.

Sound of parcels being placed on the table and I opened my eyes. An older woman in a simple but tight blue dress and white mules was placing parcels of food on the table. She glanced at me and left the house to return with a small bag.

“You can see me, my friend?” she asked in accented English.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, I can see you.”

“Good. More food for the next few weeks,” she said as she put a tripod together and placed a small digital video recorder on it. Standing behind it, she looked at the view through the lenes and seemed satisfied. A press of a button and it was recording, a red light next to the lens started winking. Strangely, she put a piece of white cardboard with the date written on it against the leg of my chair.

She pulled a chair in front of me and sat down in front of me, her legs crossed. Straining my eyes, I thought I saw the tops of stockings and my cock squirmed. “You are trying to look up my dress, yes?” I nodded. “I am being paid by a lady for this video so you must speak up, please,” she said. The video must be for Jennifer, I thought.

“Yes, I’m trying to look up your dress,” I croaked.

“See what this is?” she asked, holding up a key.

“A key. The key to the chastity tube?” I asked hopefully and she nodded.

“That is correct. I can unlock you and let you play with yourself. Would you like that?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes, yes. Please,” I pleaded, forgetting about the video.

“We will see. I am told you have a small cock,” she said in a matter of fact tone and I blushed under the hood. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I said in a small voice.

“Yes what, please,” she coaxed.

“I have a small cock.”

“Good,” she said and tossed me the key. My hands were trembling as I removed the tube, revealing my growing cock as the tube and the key fell to the floor. “Do not touch it yet. Is that your small cock?” she asked pointedly and I glanced at the video.

“Yes,” I murmured, face burning hotly but I wanted, no needed, to come. “This is my small cock.”

“It is small. You may pull it a few times, just to feel it.” I did and it felt wonderful. “Has anyone done that to you recently?”

“No, of course not. I’m here alone,” I said, almost crying.

She nodded. “You have only your hand and only when I say. Correct?”

“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Correct.”

“Do you want to jerk off now?”

“Yes. Please,” I begged.

“You may do it but slowly.” I started jerking and she smiled at me. “Would you like me to open my legs so you can look up my dress while you jerk off?” she asked almost kindly.

“Please,” I begged. “Open your legs. Please!” My hand was moving faster now and, smiling, she uncrossed her legs, letting them move apart. I stared up the dress, seeing the tops of her tan stockings, a white garter strap and smooth white panties. Try as I might, I couldn’t see anything through the panties but it was erotic enough and I burst into orgasm with a groan, spewing my seed over the floor.

She closed her legs, tossed me a towel and dismantled the video recorder. I pictured Jennifer watching that video and laughing at my admissions and the pathetic sight of my masturbation.  When I was clean, she told me to put the tube back on and I did while she picked the key up and put it in her bag. Calmly, she put the key to the chain within reach and smiled down at me. “Goodbye,” she said and she walked out the door with the bag with the camera over her shoulder.

I never saw her again.

The days and the weeks dragged on. Even though there was adequate quantities of plain food, I lost weight and lived a listless life. My hair was growing long and I had a small wispy beard. Everything was provided for but it was a prison all the same and the only real choice I had was whether to kill myself or not.

Time stood still and days merged into each other, all days of rising sexual frustration until the fax machine chattered into life once more with instructions. The instructions were the same except I was to attach the chain to my right ankle and the end to the heavy sofa so I could stand and wait for my visitor.

It was a break in the routine and a chance for relief so I eagerly stood in the centre of the room with the chain and the leather hood in place. The door opened and a dark haired older woman, rather plump with big breasts, in a short black pleated skirt and a white blouse entered with parcels and a bag.

She looked over at me with a smile. “You are the man with the small cock?” she asked, putting the food parcels down.

“Yes,” I said softly, my only opportunity to talk to another human being for four weeks. 

She smiled and started assembling the video recorder. “I have some instructions here,” she said, unfolding apiece of paper. “You are to call me Mistress when the camera is recording and I call you Slave I have to tell you a few things as well. You’re not going to be difficult, are you?” I shook my head. “Good. This is easy money for me and a little fun for you at the end.”

She started recording and moved in front of me. “Kneel slave,” she said sharply and I knelt in front of her, my eyes level with the black nylon of her hose. The key to my chastity tube dangled in front of me and my cock surged in its harness.

I took it and slowly unlocked my cock, feeling it surge into hardness. “Don’t touch it,” she said sharply and I quickly took my hand away. “You have a very small cock, slave,” she said, smiling down at me and I blushed in my hood.

“Yes Mistress,” I replied for the benefit of the video. I pictured Jennifer sipping champagne and watching the video while masturbating.

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“Yes Mistress,” I said.

. “Would you like me to touch it? To slowly jerk you off?”

I gasped. Maybe it would happen. “Yes, please Mistress,” I croaked.

As she smiled down at me she shook her head. “No one is going to touch your cock again, slave. Do you know that?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said softly.

“Put your hand around it but don’t stroke it yet.” I did so, feeling my cock twitch. “Just hold it. That’s the only touch you will ever feel.” I knelt in front of this buxom woman, holding my cock, trembling with frustration.

“Would you like to see my breasts?”

“Please, Mistress,” I begged watching her hands cup her breasts through the white blouse.

“When was the last time you saw a woman’s breasts, slave?”

“I can’t remember, Mistress,” I said desperately.

Her hands dropped to her skirt. “Would you like to see my panties?”

“Yes, yes. Please,” I whined, trembling fascinated as her hands drew the hem of her skirt up to reveal stocking tops and the crotch of her black panties.

“Perhaps you would like to see my pussy?” she asked slyly and my cock throbbed in my hand as I teetered on the edge of coming. “Let go your cock,” she commanded, sensing I was close and I dropped my hand away, leaving my cock jerking in the air. “Do you want to see my pussy?” she repeated and I stared at her panties.

“Please, show me your pussy, mistress,” I begged, realising I presented a pathetic sight to the camera but was beyond caring.

“No pussy, slave. You will never see a pussy again. Only panties. You like my panties?”

It was too much, my cock spurted without me even touching it and I groaned as it erupted. “You come from just looking at my panties?” she teased. “Poor baby.”

I heard her walk to the camera and switch it off. “There,” she said as she packed it up, “that wasn’t so difficult. You must have really hurt someone. No matter, I get my money and you get some fun. Now clean up and put that thing back on.”

I did and gave her the chastity tube key back. She placed the padlock key within crawling distance and left without a word.

Left me alone in my prison with my imprisoned cock.

I considered suicide at least every other day but I finally admitted I didn’t have the courage. It wasn’t the thought of death that concerned me, in fact, I knew I would welcome it. I was confident I could kill myself efficiently and I was afraid of a long lingering death.

Time dragged on with loneliness and frustration my only companion. A month after my last visitor, I waited for the fax machine to hum into life with a promise of something that would break the monotony but it remained silent. As the days slipped by and the food dwindled, the thought occurred to me that Jennifer and Chorister Wolf had forgotten me. Out of sight and out of mind.

One day, as I sat in my usual position near the window, staring out at the flat unappealing landscape under the clear blue sky when I saw a vehicle in the distance. As it got closer, I saw it was a jeep of some kind and was heading directly towards the fence.

My heart pounded as I watched the vehicle pull up and saw Chorister Wolf emerge, still dressed in black and still with black glasses hiding her eyes. I was sure she was here to finish the job, to kill me and I realised I didn’t care.

The door opened and she towered over me, face expressionless. “You look a real mess,” she observed. “When did you last shower?” She walked towards the television set and DVD player.

I cleared my throat in readiness to speak.  Real conversations in the past three months had been rare, although I had debated and discussed things with myself many, many times. “I can’t remember,” I said honestly.

Wolf slipped a DVD into the player and turned the set on. “Watch this.”

It was a collection of news stories. I watched with trembling heart as the polished newsreader stared into the camera and announced that ‘Harvey Garret, renowned feminist’ had died that day. I had to laugh bitterly when I saw the date of my so-called demise coincided with my first video performance of masturbation. Now I knew the date on the white cardboard was another taunting gesture from Jennifer.

Apparently, after a lingering for a little while in hospital after the stroke with Jennifer constantly at my side, I died peacefully in my sleep. A nation mourned and Copeland and the Prime Minister waxed on how I had been a future leader and this were a tragic loss for the country. . How fucking sad! My eyes pricked as I saw my brothers carrying the coffin and my father walking slowly behind it in the grey rain, accompanied by Jennifer.

“Bitch,” I muttered, struggling with my emotions.

The next series of stories showed Jennifer scoffing at the idea that she should stand in my place at the coming by-election caused by my death but after a few weeks, she was agreeing to stand. She ‘gave in’ to the demands of the people. The polls indicated it would be a landslide as she was the nation’s favourite widow.

The screen went dark and I turned to look up at Wolf. “Did she win?”

Chorister nodded. “A few days ago. She’s now a Member of Parliament.”

“That’s what this whole thing was about, wasn’t it!  It was all planned to get her elected!”

“Wolf nodded again. “Yes. PFPP picked you and sent her after you.” She shrugged. “It worked.”

“What’s next, Prime Minister?” I said bitterly.

“Cabinet Minister next. Then PM.” She stared down at me and my pulse quickened.

“So, you’re here to kill me? Sent by Jennifer to get rid of the evidence?”

“Jennifer doesn’t issue those instructions. I told Jennifer you died two weeks ago, told her you killed yourself. She believes you are dead.”

“I thought about it.”

“We thought you would. In a strange way, you are dead, aren’t you? So, you have a choice. Harvey Garret has to remain dead and can not exist.” She opened her coat and I saw the gun. “I can kill you now and destroy your body or we can use the resources of PFPP to build you a completely new identity, a new life.”

“Why would you do that? What use am I to you?” I said bitterly and suddenly I was ashamed as a tear rolled down my cheek.

“Everyone has their uses. A warning, my little friend, the change of identity will involve surgery and radical techniques, as you must change completely with no hint of your former identity. It will be drastic.”

“I don’t care,” I muttered.

“It will be painful and difficult. We have technology that is not available to anyone outside the PFPP.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t care either way. I don’t care if you kill me or change me. I just don’t care.”

“You’re leaving it to me?” I shrugged and sat with my head bowed as another tear rolled down. A breeze swept through the open window and felt cool against my naked skin. Wolf put a hand on her weapon and stared down at me through those dark glasses. We remained that way for a moment, then she sighed and walked to her car. Through the window, I saw her on a cell phone as she paced around the car. I had been telling the truth. I just didn’t care.

She returned and tossed a small bag on the floor. “Go and have a shower, you smell really badly. There’s a pair of my old jeans and a shirt in there. They’ll be big on you but better than nothing.”

“Then what?”

“Someone will pick you up and take you away. You’ll be unconscious all the way and then the process will begin. It will be tough.”

For some reason I wanted to keep in contact with Chorister, as she was the only remnant of my old life. “Will I see you again, after the surgery and all that?” I asked and she shrugged.

“I keep turning up, don’t I?” She gave a quick smile and looked at me again. “Do you want to change your mind? The change will be dramatic?”

“I’ll leave it to you, Chorister. I don’t really care.”

“Have your shower. They’ll be here soon. And you’ll have to wear the hood.”

Sleeping and dreaming, dreaming of daisy covered fields under a blue sky with a dog I once loved long ago. Lost in a universe of half-light, half-consciousness and voices in other rooms. The pain drove me to the surface a few times and I would try to cry out but my voice was gone! Momentary panic until a jab in the arm and I would dive under again, swimming though the darkness of my rambling mind like a porpoise, like a free and unfettered soul.

“You’re waking up,” a voice from far away, my mother on the steps of a departing train.

The clouds were beautiful, rolling around and over mountains of spectacular height, guarding green valleys where dragons played. In the distance I could see a castle with red standards fluttering in the afternoon breeze.  My father and brothers stood on the parapets and waved to me as I rode the back of a golden flying dragon.

“You are waking up. We are taking the bandages from your eyes and you must open them slowly.” Loud voice in my ear, a warm hand on mine as I struggled to the surface. “Open your eyes slowly. Don’t try to talk as your throat is still recovering.”

Sudden light behind my eyes and I moved to escape it. “Open them slowly, dear, but don’t try to talk yet,” a warm motherly voice spoke.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and flinched as the white light flooded them. A voice, female with a slight Germanic accent, began to speak. “The patient was removed from the stasis tank yesterday and has been waking from deep stasis since this morning.”

I squinted and a group of white-coated women swam into focus. They were gathered around my bed, some with clipboards to take notes, and were staring down at me while an older nurse sat by me, a comforting hand resting on my arm.

The woman in the middle of the group, I assumed a doctor, continued. “This was the challenge. A male patient had to have all trace of his identity removed, this person could not be recognised or even compared to the previous identity. The solution was simple, change gender.” The group nodded and I puzzled over the words as I swam in my warm world, watching the pretty white coats.

“A male to a female but we had special instructions which I will refer to later. However, what type of female? The original male patient was small in statue, fine features with black hair and dark eyes with average tone skin.  The answer was clear, Japanese. A woman of Japanese origin would never be identified with a male of western European origin. A very simple solution, ladies, and an ideal one that has achieved the desired results.”

The understanding shot through me. They had made me a woman, a Japanese woman! Chorister had said the changes would be drastic and she was right! In the fuzzy warmth I was swimming in I smiled to myself at the thought of being a woman

The group moved closer and gathered close around the bed. “As you can see, the eyes are now of apparent Japanese origin through the surgery and we also altered the ears, the chin and the nose. There is still some bruising evident.”

“But still,” murmured a black woman close to the front. “She is very attractive.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.”

“She’ll be very beautiful,” another woman said.

The doctor shrugged and continued. “I don’t think that result is completely from the cosmetic reconstruction as the original patient had a restrained feminine beauty, very androgynous.  The vocal chords were altered and the Adam’s apple completely shaved so there will be no vocal movement for another few days but we are sure the results will be pleasing and indistinguishable from any other female.”

The sheet was pulled back and I stared down at two breasts lying on what used to be my masculine chest. “Using our secret nano-genetic technology, we cloned the breasts and with the assistance of the stasis tank, grafted them onto the body as well as rearranging the fat layers to create the perfect female pear shape. The breasts are slightly larger than the Japanese stereotype but from our research it is acceptable. It has been a success as those breasts, ladies, are as real and as authentic as ours.” She glanced at someone in the group. “Well, almost all of ours,” she murmured and there was a slight giggle. 

“Doctor,” a Chinese woman in the front pointed at me with a pencil. “Why did we retain the male genitalia?”

I peeked down past my new breasts and saw my cock lolling across my completely hairless groin, a catheter trailing from it.

“Centre ordered us to retain them. That instruction presented a challenge, as we had to get the balance of the hormones absolutely correct. We are growing a womb with the necessary organs and tissues and it will be possible to transfuse the female genitalia to the body in a few weeks. However, that will require at least three months in stasis. We await further instructions on that.”

“A very good result, Doctor. Anything else?”

“Yes, we trialed the new defoliant and removed all body hair permanently. I pronounce it a success and estimate that once released to the market, will return billions of dollars to our organisation.” Polite applause. “Mental conditioning commenced in stasis and will continue for the next few weeks. When the patient begins to speak, we will notice a distinct accent and female phasing. The conditioning will also mould reflexes, habits and gestures into a female approach as well.  The procedure has been a huge success and I think Centre will be delighted.”

They moved away and I looked questioningly at the nurse next to me who produced a hypodermic. “Time for more sleep,” she whispered, sliding the needle in to lead me to darkness with many questions unanswered.

Robin, the nurse had brushed my hair and tied it into a ponytail and washed my face in preparation for my visitor. I wore a white nightgown and my breasts rose and fell in the periphery of my vision. It had been weeks since I had first awoke and now was fully conscious and able to talk. My voice was soft and lilting and did not sound like me. The old me was gone and this new person, no, thing, remained.

 Was I angry, sad or depressed? No, I was numb and passive, patiently waiting for the next event to unfold, as I became a simplistic observer watching from within this strange body. They had nullified my will by holding me in seclusion for three months or more and then showing me my own funeral, to force me to realise I had nothing left. In short, I was nothing and was prepared to either die or to be rebuilt. For them to have chosen to rebuild me as a woman was surprising but not shocking as my feelings, reactions and basic emotions were frozen numb. Perhaps the retention of my cock and balls was a demonstration to me that I was half a person, a thing to be owned by them. I didn't care and even though I suspected the mental conditioning had been to make me docile, I was quite passive about my situation.

My visitor arrived and she was dressed in jeans, a white shirt and sandals. Clutching a file of papers, she sat next to my bed. “Hi,” she said a nervous smile on her face. “I’m Karen.”

“Hello,” I said softly, smiling slightly. I was finding that my body reacted differently to events these days and I smiled a lot more when I spoke.

She stared at me for a moment and then quickly looked down at her file. “I’m sorry for staring,” she said, “but you are very beautiful.”

“Thank you. You are being very kind to say so.”

“I’m you therapist for the next few weeks and will be working closely with you. I’ve been given your identity details….”

“My name?” I interrupted politely. “You know my name?”

“Yes,” she looked puzzled and then nodded. “They haven’t told you? “ I shook my head and she put on a pair of black rimmed glasses to read from the file. “Your name is Yuki Toshiro, born in Tokyo and your birth date is the same but four years later.”

“Yuki?”

“Yes. Yuki Toshiro.”

“It is a nice name.” I tilted my head to look up at her. “Do you like it?”

“It is a very beautiful name and it suits you.”

I nodded. “Yes, I think it does. Thank you.” I stared out the window and thought about it. Harvey garret was dead and buried and Yuki Toshiro was born. There was no way these two people could be tied to one another with different gender, different origins and different birth dates. The PFPP was very efficient.

Robin bustled in with a pot of tea and cups. “Here you are. A cup of tea.” She looked at both of us and her gaze returned to me. “Everything all right?”

“Robin,” I said in my new strange voice, “my name is Yuki.”

Her eyes brimmed for a moment and she blinked. “A beautiful name. Would you like a cup of tea, Yuki?” I nodded, sipped the tea and Robin left, wiping her eyes with the edge of her apron.

“She is very fond of you,” observed Karen.

“She cared for me. I am fond of her. You said my birth date was four years later?”

“The genetic re-engineering has made your body five to seven years younger but we have altered the birth date by just four years. You will always look younger than your age but most women would like that.” She stopped and appeared embarrassed.

“I am not complete yet,” I said politely. “Not a woman.”

“No,” she nervously, looked into the file.

“Why?” I inquired, still polite so the conditioning was making a difference.

“Orders.”

“I see,” I said looking out the window at leaves falling from a tree. “Where are we?”

“Nowhere.”

“Ah,” I said, laughing softly. “So this is what Nowhere looks like.”

Karen took control of me and I allowed it as my somewhat passive personality surfaced. Each night, I fell asleep with voices whispering in my ear and for a few hours every lunchtime, I entered an isolation tank, sedated and indoctrinated with words, music and images. It took me two weeks to ask why.

“To condition you to being female,” Karen explained.

“I have an accent?” I asked and she nodded.

“It is very charming.”

“This is all to make me female?” And the results were breathtaking.  I sat in front of a mirror and automatically applied make-up from a confusing selection of cosmetics. Female clothing was easy to me and I easily connected my bra straps behind me.

One day, I was naked in the bathroom when she nervously entered, the chastity tube in her hand. “Yuki,” she said nervously. “I’m sorry but it has to go on.”

I smiled at her. “It is ok, Karen,” I said. “I am used to it.”

The conditioning continued and at the end of three months, I was naturally an exotic Japanese woman in every way except one. The emotional numbness continued and I had no sexual frustration at all. As part of my continuous medical examinations, the doctor had inflicted a prostrate massage which had drained semen from me with no real excitement or release. 

One morning as I was adjusting my make-up, Karen abruptly walked into my room. “Good morning Karen,” I said calmly although I could tell she was upset. “Are you all right?” I asked politely.

She nodded and watched me as I applied my red lipstick. “You are very beautiful, Yuki,” she said and I shrugged. “Do you know that?” she pressed.

I put the lipstick down and turned to face her. “No, I do not know that. I am numb, Karen, completely numb. I think that is a good thing for me.”

“Yuki, that is so sad.”

I smiled at her. “Maybe. But I do not feel that.”

She blinked and brushed her eyes with her finger. “Yuki, I would like to be your friend.”

“We are friends, I think,” I said, surprised.

“Are we? Truly? You are so enigmatic,” she said in rush. “So Japanese. You don’t act like a girl friend.”

“It is your conditioning, I think,” I said calmly. “I am your friend, Karen.”

She hugged me and then broke away. “You have a visitor,” she said in a rough voice as I looked at her surprised. “I think you are going away. This is goodbye.”

“Karen,” I said gently. “I will return to become a woman. Perhaps I can then truly be your friend?”

tears began to run down Karen’s cheeks and I held her gently until she regained her composure. “When you come back, it will be hard but I’ll be here for you. As a friend.” She gave me a weak smile as she left the room.

The door opened and Chorister filled the room. “Ah,” I smiled and bowed gently. “Greetings. I thought it would be you.”

“Yuki,” she said a small amount of wonder in her voice. “You look, well, different.”

“Thank you, Chorister,” I said as if it was a compliment and, in a small way, I think it was.

“It worked out well, then?” she said, a question in her voice.

I nodded slowly, my long dark hair falling around my face. “Reasonably well. Although, I am not complete,” I added, looking up at her and I thought I saw her blush.

“No,” she said in a low voice. “Some decisions were made.”

“Why?” I asked politely, hands resting on my thighs in front of me. I caught my reflection in the mirror and realised it was a classic Asian stereotype pose.

“We need you,” she said as she slumped in the chair. “One last favour.”

“And it is important that I not be a complete woman for this favour?” I asked, bowing slightly.

“Yes,” she said roughly. “I didn’t like it but I had no choice. The PFPP is the important thing here, what we’re trying to achieve is important to the future of the human race. If women don’t take control the human race will destroy itself.”

“I see,” I said calmly. “And after this favour?”

“You can choose to come back here. To get the final work done.” She looked away as she said it.

“I choose.”

“Just like that?”

“Like that. I want it and I know I have no choice. Let me do this favour. What do I have to do?”

Chorister stared at me for a moment and then looked away again as she spoke. “We have to go back.”

“Back?”

“Back to where it all began, Yuki. To Parliament.”

I was startled and looked away as I spoke. “Does this concern Jennifer?”

“Yes. She is Minister of Health now and this concerns her next step.”

“I see,” I said slowly and then turned back to face her. “When do we go?”

We looked a strange pair in the First Class section of the plane. Chorister, tall, powerful and threatening dressed in black with those black glasses was a dominating sight compared to me. I was small, delicate and dressed in a flowing skirt with blouse and coat. Inwardly, I looked forward to being able to wear tighter, more revealing clothes if the mood took me. For now, flowing clothes with control panties and control top pantyhose to keep my difference hidden.

Chorister filled the aisle seat while I perched in the window seat, watching as the plane taxied to take off position. The steward had just completed the safety presentation when she leaned towards Chorister and asked, “We are wondering,” she said. “Is Ms Toshiro a movie star or something and you’re her bodyguard?”

 Chorister turned her gaze onto her. “She is incognito,” she announced and the steward ran excitedly back to tell her friends as the plane roared into life for take off. In my bag was my new passport that confirmed my identity, confirmed that Yuki Toshiro, a woman, existed.

Sometime after take off, Chorister turned to me. “You haven’t asked what you have to do.”

“I am sure you will tell me when you are ready,” I said, smiling slightly as I flicked through a magazine.

She kept staring at me, her face showing some confusion. “You’ve really changed. You’re so passive, so docile, so patient and not at all like…..” She tailed off, looking away and I closed the magazine.

“No, Chorister,” I said patiently. “I am not like that person who is now dead. There have been changes, changes you and your people engineered and, now, I am Yuki.” Chorister nodded abruptly and picked up her headphones but I spoke before she could put them on. “You find me annoying?” I asked concerned. “Do you despise me because I accept these things?”

“No. No, I don’t. I don’t know if it’s really you or some game you’re playing when you act that way.”

“So suspicious. It is me, Chorister,” I said simply. “I can not help the way I talk nor the way I act but it is really me. This is not a game to me. I am Yuki Toshiro.”

“ I find you different, that’s all.” She paused and took her glasses off and I was startled to see two green eyes staring at me. “I feel I want to protect you, not hurt you.”

“Then,” I said, sitting back, “that is good. I am happy for you to protect me.”

After landing, Chorister took me to a small flat in the city and I unpacked my meagre suitcase and was delighted to find a wardrobe full of clothes in the bedroom. “These are of very beautiful,” I said as I examined the outfits.

“You have excellent taste,” Chorister observed.

I paused as a thought occurred to me. “Is that the conditioning?”

She shook her head. “You had impeccable taste before,” she turned her head slightly, obviously uncomfortable about referring to Harvey Garret.  “I expect that has remained.

I nodded agreement to spare her embarrassment. “Of course. You are right.” I sat and smiled at her. “What is next?”

Chorister began to pace. “There is a reception tomorrow night for some charity and you have an invitation. Your target is,” she said and looked away,” Ernest Copeland.” My blood surged and I internally fought to keep control under Choristers keen gaze. “You show nothing,” she said. “Don’t you hate Copeland?”

I smiled weakly. “Is hate necessary for this favour?” 

Chorister shook her head. “Guess not. You have to get him to take you to an apartment he has in the city.”

“Why will he do that?” I asked politely.

“Because you’re beautiful and you are Japanese. He has a fetish for two things, Japanese women and pantyhose.”

“Pantyhose?” I said, surprised and Chorister smiled.

“Some emotion at last, Yuki,” she laughed quietly.

“Is surprise an emotion?”

Chorister ignored that and went on. “The Prime Minister wants to retire as he is ill but Copeland is pressuring him to stay as he knows Jennifer has the numbers and he doesn’t want a women to become Prime Minister. We have to use a lever to persuade him to assist the PM to go.”

“I am that lever?” Chorister nodded. “And you knew of these things, his attraction for Japanese women? Is that is why your people changed me to Japanese?”

Wolf shook her head. “No, that was the idea of the medical staff. The idea for this came to Centre when you were in stasis and that is why you were left incomplete.” She looked away and I wished I could see her eyes.

“I see. Thank you.”

“Are you angry with us? With me?”

I smiled. “I should be but I am not. So, I am in his apartment?”

“You get in the apartment and you make sure you put some powder I’ll give you in his drink.”

“I see,” I nodded slowly. “Will he hurt me?” I asked and Chorister frowned and flushed.

“No, Yuki, he won’t hurt you. I guarantee it.”

“You will protect me,” I said in a matter of fact tone and she nodded. “This is like a movie, isn’t it? I slip him the Mickey Finn?” Chorister laughed loudly and I frowned at her. “What is so funny?”

“Your accent. It sounds cute when you say things like that. Yes, you slip him the Mickey Finn.”

“And then what?”

Chorister frowned and suddenly became subdued. 

Then she told me.

I spent the next day idling through the shops and thinking about what I had to do that night. It won’t be that hard, I said to myself. Do it and get out of that apartment quickly. At least I knew Chorister would be there at the end.

The shop assistant was showing me perfumes when a young man hesitantly approached me. He was tall with unruly hair in a Hugh Grant kind of way but a little more masculine than the late Harvey Garret. “Excuse me,” he said, smiling nervously as I turned. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” I said, bowing slightly. “I speak English, thank you.” 

He smiled in nervous relief. “Gosh, great. Anyway,” he said blushing as the shop assistant smiled at me in a funny way. “I was watching you from over there. Actually,” he admitted, “I was cutting through here and I saw you. Saw you here, I mean,” he rambled.

“Yes,” I said politely. “Excuse me, please?”

He stopped and took a deep breath, blushing a deeper shade of red. “It’s just that I saw you here and I couldn’t believe it. Gosh, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!” He paused and realised what he said. “Terribly sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he stuttered. “You must think I’m an awful fool.”

“You have a card?” I asked, smiling slightly.

“Card? Of course, the card thing,” he said as he fumbled in his suit pocket for a card. “Got to have a card. Here,” he said triumphantly as he passed me his business card.

“Roland Young,” I read and he appeared startled. “Stockbroker?”

“Gosh, you read English. You probably speak thousands of languages and I’ve treated you like a total fool. I’m so sorry,” he rambled on.

I smiled and bowed slightly. “Yuki Toshiro,” I said softly.

He froze and looked down at me. “Yuki?”

“Yuki Toshiro,” I repeated. “I apologise as I do not have a card.”

“Not at all. Not a problem. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I say, have you seen the Palace? Do you have time to see some of the sights? Have you been here before?”

“I have been fortunate enough to visit here before,” I said slowly. “Unfortunately, I leave tomorrow,” I said and his face fell. “You have been very kind to speak to an unimportant tourist in your fair city. Thank you, you have been, how you say, very sweet?”

“Yes, well, that’s the way things are, I suppose. I apologise once again and if you ever return….?” He stopped, embarrassed.

“I have your business card,” I said softly. “When I return perhaps you could show me the Palace? It will not be for several months, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t care,” he blurted out. “Whenever. Please call,” he said as he started to move away. “Please?” he entreated and I bowed again, watching him merge with the crowd. As I watched him I began to wonder if I was starting to find men attractive and was it a result of the conditioning?

The shop assistant was smiling. “My dear, what ever you’ve got, I want. That has never happened to, although, I can’t say I blame him.  Now, we were looking at this perfume?”

I spent some time dressing that night after a long perfumed bath. Settling on a simple red dress with black pantyhose and shoes, I was fixing my face when Chorister let herself in. I watched her in the mirror and she froze when she saw my face. “You think I’m acceptable?” I asked shyly and she slowly nodded.

“Yuki, you are incredible. It’s your eyes, I think, so big and expressive.”

I stood and modelled the dress. “You can not see that I am not complete?” I asked, again in a shy tone and she blushed a little.

“No sign at all. You are an incredibly beautiful woman. In pantyhose,” she added slyly and I grinned a little.

“Yes. You told me he will find it appealing.”

Chorister nodded. “He will,” she said and then grew serious. “Ready?”

“Yes,” I said looking around and she picked up a black lace wrap.

“Looking for this?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I stopped. “Are you sure this dress is suitable? Should I change to another?”

Chorister moved close and stared down at me as she placed the wrap around my shoulders. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” she said. “And I swear you will be safe tonite. I will protect you. Let’s get through this and move on.” I took a deep breath and then nodded. “Ready?” she asked again.

“Yes,” I am ready.”

There was a small jazz group playing in the corner when I arrived. The young singer with bleached hair sounded like a young Eartha Kitt and I listened for a moment before moving through the crowd to the far wall. The room was panelled with a dark timber and was a large rectangular shape with a series of French doors leading to a walled terrace that overlooked the city.

A waiter offered me a tray of drinks and I took a glass of mineral water and inspected the oil paintings as I waited for Copeland to arrive.  My heart was pounding and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sylvia enter which made me more nervous. Discreetly, I watched as she expertly worked the room, moving from group to group, adding to her network as she left one group to move to the next.

She paused when she found herself with me and I watched as she mentally calculated if I was important enough to meet, let alone spend time with. “Hello,” she said with that forced cheeriness of hers. “I’m Sylvia Rochner.”

I bowed slightly. “Yuki Toshiro. I am very pleased to meet you.”

“Yuki?” she said brightly. “Is that Japanese?”

I bowed again. “That is very astute of you. Yes, I am Japanese,” I added, smiling politely when she looked at me in surprise, wondering if I was mocking her but she decided it was in the translation.

“I’m a political consultant,” she announced. “And you?”

“Ah,” I said, ignoring her question. “Political consultant is such an important role. Who do you consult with?” I asked politely.

She was flattered and smiled condescendingly. “I work with Jennifer Garret, the Minister of Health. Have you heard of her?”

I bowed slightly to hide my smile. Birds of a feather flock together. “Yes, I have heard of that lady. She will be your leader soon?”

Sylvia lowered her voice. “Anything is possible. Wonderful to meet you.” She moved off and I suppressed a smile.

There was a flurry of activity at the door and I saw Ernest Copeland make a grand entrance so I moved slightly to one side so I would be seen examining a lithograph entitled  ‘A Party Angling’.

I studied it for a few minutes and I could feel him watching me as he moved closer and closer until he was standing next to me. “A pretty scene,” he said in his Eton accent and, I nodded politely, keeping my eyes focussed on the painting. “Two ladies and four men fishing. Or is there more to it?” he teased.

I nodded slowly. “Three of the males are brothers to the ladies but one is a friend to their brother.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was take aback.

“What makes you say that?”

“It is in the art,” I said. “All the men are absorbed in their fishing but the two women are absorbed in one man. They are both staring at the crotch of that man, wondering as all women do, I think, about the size of his penis. They appear flushed,” I added, turning to face him. “Do you agree?”

Copeland also appeared flushed. “I don’t know. I must admit I’ve always seen that as just a quaint scene with no hint of sex at all. Now that I look at it through your eyes, well.  You know your art?”

“I have never seen this before,” I said calmly. “Sensuality is in everything. Look and all will be revealed.”

He looked down at me, his eyes darting over me from beneath their bushy eyebrows. “Interesting.” He seemed about to say something when a man interrupted, slapped him on the shoulder after whispering in his ear and moved on.

Copeland caught the arm of a waiter and took a gin from the tray. The waiter offered me and I smiled and gave a short shake of the head. “I’m Ernest Copeland,” he said with force so I would know he was important.

I bowed. “Yuki Toshiro.”

“And what brings you to this boring event, Yuki?” he asked heartily as he drained his drink.

“An invitation,” I said solemnly and he laughed.

“Are you with the Japanese Embassy?” he asked and I bowed again, not really lying but just avoiding answering. “Political functions, the bane of our existence. Who do you know here?”

I looked around the room. “There is no one familiar to me.”

“Let me be your guide,” he said, taking my elbow and leading me to a group of people talking near the doors leading to the terrace. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said his forceful voice immediately halting the groups conversation, “let me introduce you to Yuki Toshiro from the Embassy of Japan.” He smiled down at me. “Did I pronounce that correctly?

I gave him a shy smile. “That was very excellent,” I said and I saw some of the women in the group suppress giggles.

Copeland went around the group naming names that I instantly forgot until he got to Sylvia who was standing next to a woman I knew from my past life. “We’ve met, Ernest,” Sylvia interrupted and gave me a quick smile. “Hello Yuki.”

“Ah,” said Copeland, raising a bushy eyebrow. “You do know someone here.”

I lowered my eyes. “We exchanged courtesies, I do not suspect we know each other from that.”

A few more giggles and the woman next to Sylvia, Diana Vaughan laughed openly. “Touche. Who really knows Sylvia?” The group laughed. “Why are you here, Yuki,” she asked. “I’m Diana Vaughan, by the way.” Diana was of West Indian descent and a researcher in the Treasurers office. Our eyes locked for a moment and I wondered if she had recognised a remnant of Harvey Garret but she gave me a warm smile.

“It is nice to meet you,” I said tilting my head slightly in her direction. “I am new to this city and I believe it is my obligation to accept all invitations to grow to understand.

 “Admirable,” Copeland boomed and the conversation resumed, leaving me to one side as Copeland was pulled away by two serious young men. I drifted to the French doors and wandered out onto the dark terrace, looking at the city lights scattered under a cloudy night sky. It wasn’t cold, rather brisk and I pulled my wrap around me as I started to return. Just then two women walked onto the terrace through the other French door and stood in the centre as they lit their cigarettes. It was Sylvia and Diana and, as I was caught in the shadows at the far end, they hadn’t noticed me but I could hear them clearly.

“Nice night,” Diana said as she exhaled smoke.

Sylvia nodded. “Did you see that Jap woman with Copeland? He was practically drooling on her, the dirty old man.”

“Poor girl. Have you ever seen anything like her? I mean, she is incredibly beautiful in a really exotic way.”

“You kind of exotic yourself, dear,” Sylvia said and Diana laughed. Shocked, I watched Sylvia give Diana a quick kiss and they held hands as they walked to the opposite end of the terrace to me. You learn something every day I thought as I slipped back into the party.

“There you are,” Copeland said. “Terribly sorry to leave you, Yuki but I had some boring business to attend to.”

“But necessary business,” I added. “I would like to sit down if there is some where. I am sorry but I have been on my feet all day.”

“Not at all. There are some seats there.” He took my arm and led me to a corner where I arranged myself on a chair. “So,” he began as he sat down, his eyes running briefly over my legs, “have you much experience in our country?” 

I smiled. “I am new to your country. A virgin, so to speak.”

“Surely not,” he mocked and I giggled behind my hand. “I’m sure you’ve enjoyed many lovers. A woman as beautiful as you would be the centre of attention wherever she went.” He sipped his drink and his eyes lingered on my nylon covered legs for a moment so I delicately crossed them in front of him. “Are Japanese men any different to European men?” he asked casually, his eyes dropping regularly to the black nylon.

I appeared to think for a moment and then leaned forward slightly so I was closer to him and he could take in my perfume. “In some ways. Japanese men are the owners of fetish in Japan,” I said softly but calmly and I noticed his eyes widened at that comment. “They are the owners of fetish,” I repeated, “but we enjoy the fetish play as it puts us in the centre of their attention.”

Copeland looked around quickly as he cleared his throat. “What kind of fetish?” he asked his voice hoarse.

I looked away as I appeared to think and then smiled back at him. “There are many, I have heard. Ropes, white socks and some dirty ones.” I wrinkled my nose and he smiled briefly but he was watching me intently. “Ones to enjoy are men who like to look up a lady’s skirt,” I said demurely and he blinked a few times quickly. “And sensual ones like stockings and pantyhose.” I looked him directly in the eyes when I said that and he licked his lips nervously. “May I please call you Ernest?” I asked softly and he nodded quickly so I moved closer to him. “I see many things, Ernest,” I whispered to him and I saw a film of sweat on his forehead. “I see you have a fascination for my legs. I think you are the owner of a stocking or pantyhose fetish.” He took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Which one is it, Ernest?” I asked, a soft smile on my face and he stared at me as if he was hypnotised.

“Pantyhose,” he croaked and I wondered if that was the first time that he admitted his fetish to anyone.

I smiled broadly at him. “I am glad it is not stockings, Ernest.”

He wiped his face again. “Why?”  He asked hoarsely.

“Because I am wearing pantyhose,” I whispered in his ear.

He stared at me as if he had been given an electric shock and he finished off his drink and seized another one from a passing waitress. “Yuki,” he stuttered. “I’m a collector of paintings and, I was wondering if you would like to inspect them after this?” he gestured around at the room, his face covered in a sheen of sweat. I nodded demurely and he smiled like an excited teenage boy. “There is an underground car park,” he whispered excitedly. “When I leave, go down there and I will be in the Jaguar. I have a driver who is really my bodyguard, I’m afraid,” he said. “He’ll be discreet, though.” Copeland drained his drink and stood up. “All right?” he asked, suddenly afraid I may have changed my mind.

“I will wait for you to leave,” I said solemnly. “I will then follow you, Ernest.”

Relief flooded over his face and for a millisecond, I felt sympathy for him. “Yuki,” he said breathlessly, paused and suddenly turned away to a group of people. “Hello,” I heard his voice boom through the room.

The game was under way.

Several young men attempted to engage me in conversation that I politely endured until Copeland started making his grand exit. His eyes sought mine as he said goodbye to everyone in a louder than normal voice. 

I waited a few moments and then began to gather my purse and my wrap, moving towards the door. A few smiles and bows later, I was in the elevator and heading down towards the basement car park. The Jaguar was parked near the elevator doors with the motor running and the driver blinked the lights at me. This was starting to look like a James Bond movie.

Sliding in next to Copeland with a shy smile, the driver looked at me briefly and then we sped away. I hoped that Chorister knew where to go.

Copeland spoke about Parliament, his function and everything but sex, all for the benefit of the driver. I watched the driver’s eyes in the rear vision mirror and I could see he was not fooled. Perhaps he knew about his employer’s attraction for Japanese women.

Copeland lived in a Georgian town house in a quite part of town. In my previous life, I had never received an invitation to the house of the power behind the Prime Minister. Now, as Yuki, I had a private audience.

We left the car in the garage and entered the house after disarming the alarms. The driver inspected the house and returned to the lobby. “All in order, sir.” He touched the peak of his cap. “Goodnight, sir, I’ll be in my room if you need me. Goodnight, madam,” he said politely and I smiled briefly at him. I was feeling very nervous as Copeland was a big man and if he discovered my secret, he could beat me to a pulp before Chorister arrived.

I had to remind myself that Copeland was nervous as well. He had revealed his fetish to a woman for what was probably the first time and he was nervous and filled with nervous sexual energy. He led the way into a well-appointed library filled with books and paintings with plump leather chairs scattered around the room.

“The inner sanctum,” he announced, a nervous twinge to his voice as he glanced at me, seeking my approval.

“Ah,” I exclaimed, “this is very masculine, very powerful, very you, Ernest.” He swelled with pride and beamed at me.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, gesturing at a trolley with bottles and an ice bucket.

“Please,” I said, bowing low from the waist. “Let me serve you, Ernest. A woman should serve the man, it brings honour to both of us.”

Copeland looked at me with wonder and I marvelled at how easily women can control men, how stupid men can be when led by their sexual desires. “Yuki,” he said. “You are incredible.”

I smiled and started to prepare a drink. “I’ll have a gin,” he called as he lowered himself into a leather-winged chair.

“Of course, Ernest. I assumed as such.”  I managed to get the pills into his drink and I waited a minute for it to dissolve, then silently offered it to him. 

“Thank you. Your drink?” he asked and I returned with a glass of tonic water. I turned a chair and sat in front of him. He stared as I slipped my shoe off and rested my nylon-covered foot against his crotch, my toes resting against his hard cock.

“To us,” I said raising my glass.

He stared down at the foot and I wriggled my toes. “To us,” he croaked and sipped his drink, then moved his fingers to my toes.

I shook my head. “Ernest,” I said softly. “You own the fetish, yes?” He nodded a vein in his head bulging. “I control the fetish, not you. It is my pantyhose,” I said, smiling, and I felt his cock pulse under my toes.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely, removing his fingers. “Of course. What do you want me to do?” he asked in a thick voice.

“I think you finish your drink,” I said softly. “Then, you take all your clothes off.” He blinked at me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he listened. “Naked, you should kneel in front of me and I will let you look up my dress and see my pantyhose.”

“God!” He exclaimed in a hoarse tone, quickly draining his drink and standing up while undoing his tie.

I held up my hand. “Wait, please. There is more. While looking up my dress, I will ask you to masturbate. Will you do that for me, Ernest?” I asked softly, looking up at him.

“Yes,” he said urgently. “Yes! “ He tore his clothes off and stood in front of my naked, his hard cock jutting from his hairy body. Copeland rubbed his face a few times and I hoped it was a sign the drug was taking effect.

“Sit,” I said sharply and he sat in the chair in shock.

“I thought you wanted me to kneel?” he said plaintively and I smiled at him.

“Soon, Ernest but first, this.” I extended my leg and placed the sole of my nylon-covered foot against the length of his penis. I could feel its throbbing heat as I delicately pressed against it, slightly moving my toes.

“Oh my God!” he moaned. “Not yet,” he cried and came with a mighty burst, his sperm covering my foot as his cock pulsed against it. “Yuki,” he said sleepily as he rocked from side to side. “You are my perfect woman.” With a gasp, he collapsed against the back of the chair and immediately began snoring, a huge smile on his face.

I looked at my sperm covered foot and turned when I heard a rustle of curtains. Chorister stood next to the window. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

I nodded. “How long were you there?” I asked.

“Since you arrived.” I looked away, embarrassed, as I knew she had heard everything. I think she realised I was embarrassed and stood next to me. “Let’s get this down.”

I nodded, stood next to Copeland and pulled my pantyhose and control panties to my knees. Chorister produced the key to the chastity tube and I lifted my skirt to give her access while she freed my cock. In silence, we both looked at my cock as it swung free.

Chorister Wolf took a digital camera from her coat and focused on Copeland’s face as I pulled my cock gently into hardness. It took a while but my cock was soon fully erect. Following Choristers pointed directions I placed my cock on Copeland’s mouth and Wolf took a picture. Others followed many with my cock in his mouth and even one with his hand around it, as he appeared to guide it to his mouth. I felt so dirty, so ashamed.

She lowered the camera and looked at me. “Just one more,” she said quietly and I nodded.

“I know,” I said. I was to masturbate and spray my sperm onto his face, place my cock next to it for the final damming picture. Copeland may claim the pictures were false but circulating them would provoke debate and he wouldn’t let that happen. Jennifer would become Prime Minister.

Taking a deep breath, I moved my hand to my cock, pulling my dress well out of the way but was surprised when Chorister moved close. “Don’t,” she said quietly, slipping one hand around my back and the other gently around my cock. I stiffened in shock as I felt her fingers, the first person to touch me intimately for a very long time.

I moaned and my head fell backwards for a moment as I revelled in the pleasure. “Take your glasses off,” I croaked and she did so, her green eyes staring down at me.

“Yuki,” she murmured, her hand slowly stroking me and I turned my face into her shoulder, eyes clenched closed as I gave up to the foreign sensations of someone caressing me, loving me. Biting my lip, I came as I burrowed into her shoulder, the smell of her leather coat swamping my senses. I felt her move my cock as I came, spraying my sperm over the sleeping Copeland as tears rolled down my cheeks.

It was done. The last photos were taken and Chorister removed all trace of sperm from Copeland. I stood there with my pantyhose and control panties around my knees and picked up the chastity tube, ready to put it back on

“No,” Chorister said roughly, seizing the chastity tube and dropping it into her pocket. “Not any more,” she said. “No more.”

I nodded and pulled my panties up and, after moments thought, removed my pantyhose and gently placed them on Copeland’s groin. “Something to remember me by. Will he know it was me who did the photographs?” I asked quietly and Chorister shook her head.

“He’ll think they’re fixed, fake. He won’t associate them with you.” She looked around the room. “I’ll go. You know where to go?” I nodded and she disappeared through the window.

I fixed my face and I slowly walked down the stairs and was met by the driver in the lobby. “Everything all right, miss?” he asked.

“Ernest has fallen asleep,” I said quietly.

“Drunk again,” the driver said. “You’re all right, miss?” he asked and I smiled back. “Can I get you a taxi?”

“You are very kind.”

The boarding announcement had been made and the passengers were lining up at the airport gate, ready to board the plane. Tourists, business people and vagabonds, all going somewhere while I was going nowhere.

“Here,” Chorister said, handing me a fat envelope and I looked at her questioningly. “Tickets, passport, birth certificate, credit cards, money and all that.”

I smiled at her. “I see,” I said and she took her glasses off. “You have incredible green eyes, Ms Wolf,” I said and she permitted herself a half smile.

“Maybe. I’ve always thought my eyes were a distinguishing feature that marks me too much for potential hitters. In my line of work it’s a real disadvantage.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “a beautiful advantage?”

Chorister cleared her throat and, after a moment looking out at the waiting plane through the glass, spoke. “You’ll be gone a long time.”

“Ten months at the most but I will be complete.”

“It’ll be tough.”

“I am becoming used to tough.”

She stared at me for a moment and I swear I thought I saw a tear. “Yes, you have. I thought I was tough but you…” She left it unfinished and we watched the planes land, the stewards were looking at us anxiously as the line dwindled. “Complete is important?” she asked, not looking at me and I reached out and placed my hand on her arm.

“It is very important, Chorister. It’s a new life for me.” She nodded roughly and handed me another envelope. “What is this?” I asked, surprised.

“Tickets from Nowhere to New York for ten months time with hotel reservations. If you want, you could use the tickets and meet me there. You might need someone to look after you, to protect you.” Chorister kept her eyes away from me and I squeezed her arm.

“I want,” I said, my eyes pricking. “If it please you, would you give me a hug,” I said, my voice breaking and she swept her big arms around me, holding me so I could breathe in her essence

“Ms Toshiro,” a voice broke in and a steward was close. “The plane is ready to depart.”

Chorister was about to hit her so I pressed her arm quickly and smiled. “Thank you. I am coming now.” I looked up at Wolf. “Listen to me please,” I said. “I am going to Nowhere to become a complete person. When I return, I will want to go somewhere with you. If you wish,” I added, bowing slightly and she nodded.

“I’ll wait and I will offer you protection.” We stared at each other for a moment and she gave me a breaking smile. “Listen to me, I’ve picked up your dumb accent.”

I walked onto the plane, wiping tears from my eyes as I prepared to fly to Nowhere.

My life has changed and I am no longer the person I once was. When I look in the mirror I see a different being, a different soul with altered emotional intelligence. Such is life and such is my life.

End ‘Protection’ Book 1 of ‘A Political Saga’.
(Nessus29@hotmail.com)
Author’s Note:
Thanks for reading. 
That was a most interesting ride.
There is a second book in ‘A Political Saga’ and it will be simply called ‘Yuki’.
As always, interested in your comments (nessus29@hotmail.com) but I am expecting a few negative comments on this one because it is different from previous Nessus stories. Sorry, readers, I like pushing the envelope, going to new places.
All other Nessus stories are archived at www.asstr-mirror.org
By the way, the title is from the Massive Attack song “Protection”.