2084

2084 (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 1 – Le Rosbif

England 2084.

It was a warm sunny day in April, and the clocks were chiming nineteen

It had been a twelve-hour long, long tiring day on her toes for Amanda: a long tiring day entirely literally on the top-tip-top-tip of her big toes.

Amanda Heavensent wore the uniform of the "Le Rosbif" roadside restaurant chain, a new favourite drop-in for the tired travelling salesgirls and truck driveresses, who knew they could rest their bleary eyes on the exceptionally pretty girls that waited table whilst they, weary travellers, sat sipping the caffeine they needed to fuel them for the next two-fifty kilometres of highway.

With her idea for this chain of beef-n'-bread fast food outlets, now three-years since established, Elspeth Zanori had made the blue-bordered "frame-of-fame" as 'Tempus' magazine's businessgirl of the year. The article inside went on and on about the philosophy of the chain being different to its, as yet, better known rivals, omitting to say, perhaps out of political correctness, that the real difference of the Le Rosbif chain, was its waitresses, guaranteed-to-be stunningly pretty, and the uniforms the carefully selected lovely girls wore.

Many of the waitresses wore their uniform warily and wearily. Compulsorily completely naked beneath their short-sleeved elongated, crimson, figure-hugging tee-shirt-cum-dresses, with nothing else allowed to be worn, bare legged, and wearing heelless tiptoe shoes on which they were constantly ballerinered atop their ballet-shoes' steel-capped squared-off toes, the compelling sight of the young girls Le Rosbif employed was now being enjoyed by businesswomen along the whole highway-chain of the British mainland.

Many of the waitresses wore their uniform warily and wearily, but Amanda's outstanding attractiveness continued to show in her ready and genuine smile and the spellbinding eye contact she made with her customers, even when her customers' eyes had invariably just run the amazing length of Amanda's stunningly shapely legs, and stopped off at the full firmness of Amanda's stupendous mountainous 40DD bosom, rolling enticingly excitingly freely, because completely unrestrained and unencumbered, before meeting the bright twinkling pitch-dark-brown glory, of Amanda's shining orbs, sparkling with her pride at her girlness and her knowledge of her girlness, and her knowledge that her girlness was taking her customers breath away.

At table, taking customers' orders, Amanda's very pretty hand, with wholly impractical perfectly girlacured fingernails, would rise to aside a wisp of dark-brown near-black negress' curled-within-curls-within-curls hair, on the softest complexioned face, near-black hair so much in compliment to Amanda's beautiful unfathomably-unfathomable, devastatingly-dark, bottomlessly-deep brown eyes, as she curtsied to her customers and musically prettily, with a natural loving giggle restrained, stylus and electronic notepad to the fore, asked with sincere attention and willing longing to please, what her customers wished to order.

Amanda was dynamite: TNT: a totally natural temptress, with the loveliest pert negress' constant come-on-then-kiss-me-it-is-what-I-was-created-for lips even in their repose, and glorious flawless coffee-brown flesh. She was used to being admired and knew she deserved to be admired. Sometimes Amanda would look up at you and her smiling eyes, pupils huge black wide, were deep pools of darkness into which you longed to dive down and drown, till she lowered her laser gaze, knowing she was burning your heart, and not wanting to sear you irremediably.

Nineteen-year-old Amanda would then turn and naturally wiggle to the kitchen, all-too aware that her barely covered derrière, nude beneath her barely concealing heaven-high hem, and her superb brown bare firm calves and strong brown thighs, were stirring staring which she would sometimes turn her head to smile back at her devastated customers to thank them for.

Sometimes a wolf-whistle would split the air as Amanda disappeared with an order, and a subconscious extra-wide snake would then wriggle her all-girl gait.

Amanda was proud of her beauty. Her fitness was eminently evident. Her legs showed she was in-shape and that shape was fully fulsome felinely feminine. Amanda's legs were the transport of a delight, and transports of delight, with wonderful strong thighs and stretched softly smoothly muscular calves from her tiptoed erectness. Amanda's slim upper arms showed only the hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of bicep, from her weightlifting to keep herself trim: just the hint of a hint of a hint of a hint, for Amanda was pure full carved, full curved, girl.

And sometimes she must wipe the tables or bend to table a loaded tray. And Le Rosbif's company policy that all waitresses must be hygienically shaved, embarrassed many of her fellow-waitresses less certain of their evident charms than Amanda, who anyway today wore a tiny woollen panty-cinch, a round-profiled strip of white wool, sopped crimson, dividing her love-lips: a cinch into which her menstrual blood was seeping, as her customers were peeping when she bent to flash heaven: straight-legged-bending-at-the-waist, so her tee-shirt-dress must ride up off her underneath nudeness, as: "no bending at the knee except in the courtesy of a curtsy" was also strict Le Rosbif company policy for its waitresses.

Amanda was a summer vacation student: a brilliantly-brained beauty studying theoretical mathematics and astrophysics at Camford University. Le Rosbif and its rigid rules were Amanda's way of paying her university fees, now that all girl students had to pay their own way; all state subsidies and loans for girls having been abolished by the new government as a money saving measure.

This was no ordinary waitressing. Working for Le Rosbif had its risks, as Amanda full well knew. Any girl who worked for Le Rosbif had to sign, and have double-witnessed, a contract. The contract was extremely onerous, but three month's pay at Le Rosbif would fund a whole year's college tuition, and what had a girl as naturally beautiful as Amanda to fear of some silly contractual sub-clauses: indeed sub-clauses of sub-clauses which there must be cause to question the legality of in any case?

So Amanda would have to show off her sensational body. What was so wrong with that in these post-feminist times for goodness sake? Amanda was very proud of her physical beauty. Amanda had everything to be proud of, and every right to be proud of it.

"I hope my services were satisfactory to you madam", whispered the dark-panda-patched-under-lower-eye-lidded, pale-from-the-pain–of-her-heavy-period, lovely Amanda, as she stood tiptoed at the pay-till having bobbed a sexy thighy curtsy to her customer, with a dip of her stupendously lovely legs: Amanda a supreme girl undergoing the extreme of the monthly burning endorsement confirmatory of her red-hot, literally red, literally hot, paprika-hot femininity.

Her clear-eyed smile was devastating and unwavering even as her customer slid over the DVD she had decided to add to her bill.

Amanda knew full well what the DVD showed. It was the latest to be issued by Le Rosbif. Amanda knew what it showed, and yet her smile never wavered its gloriously sweet and winning sincerity and shyness, as she passed the DVD over the bar-mark reader.

"Please score me out of ten on the secret keypad madam" Amanda's honey-smile and girly-giggle mezzo-soprano voice invited irresistibly.

She, her customer had called in every day for the past ten, to ensure she was served by Amanda and could score her out of ten. And every day this customer had bought a DVD so that she now had the full set.

Amanda must have suspected lust and yet, though overwhelmingly lovingly charming to this regular customer, as was her pure nature, she had never once sought to be familiar with her, as for waitresses to be familiar with the customers was not allowed under Le Rosbif company policy.

And so once more this regular customer thought Amanda ten-billion-out-of-ten, and scored Amanda nought-out-of-ten and, knowing it was the end of her shift, waited in her car outside and watched for her to wiggle out, still in uniform, to the lucky girl in the open-top sports car who would peck Amanda on lips that honey could not out-taste, with the perfunctory greeting manner adopted by those fully familiar, because in a long-term relationship, and thus not needing to display in public the passion they could enjoy at any time of their choosing, in the privacy of a bedroom…..Amanda's lucky girlfriend.

…………

"What is your name"?

"Amanda Heavensent miss"

"How old are you Amanda?"

"Nineteen miss"

This was it. This was the DVD Amanda's regular customer of the past two-weeks had really wanted. It had taken two-months to get her there. The poor kid must have thought she was safe. She was so naturally lovely and worked so very hard to please. The shock to her of finding that the "secret customers", all twenty of them now gathered to enjoy the DVD, had anonymously unanimously scored her a consistent nought-out-of-ten over a three-month period, must have devastated the poor girl.

Under the scheme installed at Le Rosbif, all customers voted if they chose to. But, when so pre-arranged, only the secret customers' votes counted. Ordinary customers knew this not. The professional customers had a code they put into the voting machine, to make it count all votes or only the 'secret customer' inputs. One 'secret customer' company had Le Rosbif on its books. All twenty of its female fellows, toured the country and visited restaurants and bars to mark the girls for their performance in servile subservience. Le Rosbif was not their only contract, but Amanda had made it by far their favourite.

…………….

"Have you ever been fucked by a boy or boys Amanda"

"Y..yes miss" Amanda whispered hanging her head in adorable embarrassment. Her voice echoing from the speakers surrounding the full-room-size 3-D hologram-cine-cube in which the secret customer conclave sat, as the DVD was projecting.

"Speak up bitch. Have you ever been fucked by a boy or boys?"

"Yes miss" Amanda tearful-eyed exquisitely lovely answered, her adorably constant-kiss-proffering lips quivering with fear as well as excruciating embarrassment.

"When were you first fucked by a boy: how old were you?"

"Th…th….thirteen miss"

"You were only thirteen when you had your first fucking?!"

"…………yes……"

"Speak up whore!"

"Yes miss"

Amanda's tears were welling at the precipice of her outstandingly stunning brown eyes.

"Did he fuck your mouth, your bum, your slit, or all three?"

"My ……….my………my slit miss"

"Did you enjoy it slut?"

"N…….no….no miss"

"Why didn't you enjoy it you little whore?"

"Because it hurt me and made me bleed miss"

"Had you been a virgin?"

"Y,,,y…yes miss….."

A cheer went up from the conspirators, the twenty girls of 'Your Secret Customer Inc', who presently had employment in the enjoyment of the joy of watching the stunning Amanda, no boy she, oh boy, squirm as she answered her interrogatoress whilst they secretly secreted into their pretty panties at her supreme erotic stunningness.

The dutiful hostess, re-charged her guests' glasses with wine: wine as red as Amanda's recent menstrual streak, now passed and past till it would need to pour again when the moon's cycle and hers would return to their coincident phase, and nature once more necessitate her endorsing her femininity with a crimson red sealing signature, signifying her undoubted and undoubtable pure girlity.

"Have you ever had a cock up your bum?"

"No! miss No!!" Amanda was in tears now, serial droplets of nectar trickled down the supreme softness of her sweet cheeks, her bountifully abundantly huge bare breasts unselfconsciously heaved and bobbled with and after a supremely erotic sob.

"Would you like to have a cock up your bum Amanda?"

"No!! No……please miss ……..no"

"Answer the question you fucking whore, or you will only make it worse for yourself! Would you like to have a cock up that perfect bum you are showing to us all?"

"No miss"

"Have you ever had your mouth fucked?"

"N…n…….no miss!"

"How many boyfriends have you had sex with, you fucking tart?"

"F…f….four miss"

"You are only nineteen and you have already had four boyfriends fuck you?"

"Yes miss"

"How many times a week were you fucked by them, you slag?"

"I don't know miss. Please miss………" Amanda hung her head in deep down shame.

"How many times whore?"

"T…t…two or th…th….three…more sometimes miss" Amanda innocently fetchingly sweetly sobbed.

"So, how many times all told have you been fucked by boys Amanda, you filthy slut?"

"Please miss………..I don……..I don't know miss. Oh please don't make me do this!" Amanda pleaded with all her lovely might.

"You were told to work it out before coming on camera, whore!"

"Nine. Nine or so. Nine-hundred: a thousand, about….. about a thousand miss"

"How many whore?!"

"Nine-hundred times miss…about miss……..about nine-hundred, or a thousand miss" Amanda's tears of shame ran in rivulets from the eyes of an angel.

"You are only nineteen and have already been fucked one-thousand times?"

Amanda simply sobbed.

The secret assessors wolf-whistled and jeered the adorable beauty and thought even one-thousand times less than the thousand-million full thorough fucks a girl as stunning as Amanda deserved.

"You now live with another girl do you not?"

"Yes miss"

"Is the other girl you live with, your lover?"

"Yes miss"

Again the secret -shoppers whooped and whistled and cheered the stunning beauty.

"Her boyfriend shares me", Amanda answered without being asked.

"Her boyfriend does what?!"

"He shares me miss"

"You sleep with them both?"

"Yes miss"

"Both at the same time?"

"Yes miss"

"They both fuck you?"

"Y..yes miss" Amanda held her head up proudly, but her face and gorgeous eyes showed her humiliating shame.

"The boyfriend fucks your bum doesn't he Amanda? Doesn't he?!"

Amanda's gloriously massively huge, wholly holy, firm breasts, rolled and swayed with her sobs.

"Yes miss"

"And you like it up your bum don't you Amanda?"

Amanda sobbed once more………..

"You have a supremely lovely bum Amanda……….."

"Yes………" Amanda all but whispered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I………I like my bum….."

"Say it Amanda, you fucking lying whore, say it damn you!"

"I like having my bum fucked miss"

Amanda hung her chin on her chest, her near-noir hair hanging a soft gentle curtain of curls to hide her needless shame. A stunningly beautiful healthy girl with an appetite for the lovemaking she was created for and deserved, including worship from the parting of her heavenly frontal altar, steepled by her legs, and the division of the smooth cathedralic domes of her sensationally sensuous rear temple, made to feel soiled and shamed as she had no need of being or of being.

And clear on the DVD, a telltale sheen on the lips of Amanda's nude-shaven slit told of a new worship: a new love: this a shock to the simply stunning girl.

Elspeth Zanori had the pick of which superb girls would work in her restaurant chain. A girl could starve in the streets these days unless she could find something, anything, to give her a wage. This DVD of the totally nude Amanda, was watched, over and over by the secret-customer girls. It had been Amanda's job interview recorded by and in front of Elspeth herself. The DVDs of these cruel interrogations, showing the depths to which the girls employed at Le Rosbif had to lower themselves to get the work they were simply desperate for, were another popular feature of the restaurant chain. From this interview, could there ever have been any doubt that Elspeth would choose to employ Amanda?

…………….

The "trick" played on Amanda was collaborative not only within 'Your Secret Customer Inc' but with Elspeth Zanori the founder of the Le Rosbif chain herself.

Elspeth had visited the Highway 84 - Glasgow - Le Rosbif Cabin to check for herself, and deliver the scores from the customers that the eager girls were so keen to hear. The prospect of the painful punishments written into the contracts they had been obliged to sign, if they did not wish to starve, was a high incentive for the obedient subservience of the lovely and charming young women on Le Rosbif's books.

Employment was now almost impossible for a girl to find. Just recently, except for those already thus employed, truck driving and travelling sales had been removed from the list of jobs allowed them.

The work choices for girls had gone back two centuries. Most girls now went into service, working in the homes of wealthy women as cooks, maids, and skivvies. Others found work such as waitressing, or as live window-display models.

Overpopulation was one cause of all this. In 2084 Britain, there were not enough jobs for the population. Legislating to abolish the right for girls to be employed in specific named sectors of the economy, had been the accepted cure that most appealed to the electorate.

It had started small and spread. Now there was almost no job answering to the description "worthwhile career" that a girl could enter. One escape was for girls to gain a good degree and join the migrants to less densely populated, brainpower-hungry countries, such as China and India. But, with the ban on employment for girls, by now covering ninety percent of the British economy, had come the question concerning the worth of allowing girls to go to university, and the consequent decision that women would no longer be allowed state funding for college.

There was talk that the Assembly had "massaged" the figures for the referenda under which these decisions had been made. The Phallus Party, with its arrow-atop-a-circle within-a-circle armbands, had taken over just after the financial crash in the late 2020s, and the subsequent collapse of the old ruling regime.

Though in her mid-seventies now, Adele Halter, with her boyish short-cropped hair and that infuriating fringe that would flop onto her forehead when she was ranting about some perceived evil, still stomped around political platforms in her six-inch heeled knee-high boots, and her black leather army-style uniform, in what many considered a very un-British way.

But the British were always amused by the chance to 'let some idiot get on with government whilst they got on with their lives', and the economy had picked up again. After all, there was now full-employment for men and boys. And so Adele had just been re-elected, four years since, with another massive Assembly majority.

Okay, Adele, or 'The Leader' as she insisted upon being known, was rumoured to have stashed millions of dollars in Switzerland, from bribes given to her by the overwhelmingly male populated British upper-classes: bribes paid to ensure that men got the cream of all that was going in the economy. But peace and quiet and the end to the ninety-five percent unemployment that had followed the 2029 Wall Street crash, were Adele's achievement, as she never failed an opportunity to remind her country, and a sixth consecutive ten-year term of office, her reward.

Elspeth Zanori, entrepreneur of the year, prided herself that she was a good girlager. Having an original business idea was another way out for women in 2084. The laws against girls working could not cover a business that was yet to be created. If one knew the right people, money in the right direction could also ensure your business remained free. Elspeth had been lucky. Her mother had left her money and a mansion. Elspeth backed herself to build the Le Rosbif restaurant chain, she did not need to risk her request for backing-money being turned down by a bank.

Elspeth Zanori, entrepreneur of the year, prided herself that she was a good girlager. She took Amanda aside, and let the poor child sit, after she had nearly fainted, when being at first completely stunned by a score of zero for her three months of working as a waitress.

"I'm afraid that………let me just check……….yes, its here…….no…..here: that's it. Yes….. yes…… well…..right………yes….reading it again to be sure Amanda, summary dismissal or one-hundred lashes, the choice is yours. If you want the job………well………..if you want to keep the job and get the pay……….there'd be no pay if you were dismissed………if you want the job my love…..one-hundred……….it has to be on your bare body of course with a six-stranded barbed-wire whip……." Elspeth spoke this quietly and gently to the horrified and now terrified nineteen-year-old, whose tears flooded as she sobbed uncontrollably inconsolably.

"I did my best…….." was just audibly coherent among the sad sobs and cries and moans of the devastated Amanda "I did my best………..".

"I'm prepared to whip you myself" Elspeth comforted, as if such words, no matter how kindly and gently spoken could be of any consolation.

A loud moan of despair came from the poor would-be continuation student.

Elspeth let this carry on. From her selfish viewpoint, Elspeth had good reason to let it continue.

A while passed this way, with Amanda consciously making an effort to control her pretty tears, knowing her choice was between the end of her university dreams, or a savage life-threatening whipping.

Then, quietly………"Amanda, as it happens, I have a vacancy for a personal maid", Elspeth casually let out, as if in sympathy for poor Amanda's dreadful plight.

Amanda's sobs settled momentarily, and she half listened.

"There would be no pay, but you would have a roof over your head and regular good food to eat. You would have to give up your lovers of course. I will not have my maids indulging in, let alone enjoying sex. Measures would be taken to ensure you remained completely and utterly chaste at all times. I never ever allow any infringement or indiscipline, especially, and above all, the execrable vileness of masturbation……….."

Amanda sobbed. And then, "Please miss", she pleaded with tear-filled terrified bloodshot eyes………….

"……..Am I to understand that you wish the vacancy to be yours?" Elspeth enquired, trying hard to hide the hint of welcome victory from her voice.

"If you will have me miss……." Amanda gulped, wiping away her tears with lovely long supremely flexible forefingers, and the contrastingly white insides of her gorgeously soft brown hands.

"I will never recall the name 'Amanda' and indeed see no reason why I should. My last umpteen personal maids answered to the name 'Mary', I think it was the name of the first of them…..or the one before her, or even the one before her………..It doesn't matter which or what does it? You'll answer to 'Mary' from now on, and you will address me at all times as 'my lady' is that clearly understood?" Elspeth asserted with enjoyment hidden in her gentle intonation.

"Yes my lady", Amanda's lovely mezzo-soprano intoned, with sexy delight for the hearer being unavoidable from this highest pleasure treasure of nature, in her mere breathing of but these three simple words.

"Good Mary. You will come with me right now" Elspeth concluded.