The Life of Riley
By Susan Riley
Former Area Manager
Part Two: My first day at work (under the new laws):
I have already told you how the new laws stripped us of all our rights,
in the home, on the street, and at work. Now I will describe how the new laws
affected my working life, and the lives of millions of other women like me.
As I mentioned in the previous instalment of my diary, women could now
be "disciplined" and fined an hour's wages for arriving one minute late for
work. I shall begin the latest instalment of my story by telling you what
happened to me.
I already knew that I was going to be demoted from my prestigious and
well-paid job. What I had not yet realised was the lengths to which both
employers and the government were prepared to go in order to make the lives of
women a complete and constant misery.
When I arrived at work at my normal time of 9.00am, the receptionist,
who looked very subdued indeed, looked at me and beckoned me over.
"The MD wants to see you," she said quietly. "There's going to be some
big changes around here now." "Yes, I know," I told her. "Let's hope they won't
be too bad."
I started to walk over to the lift that would take me to the Managing
Director's office on the twenty-eighth floor. The receptionist held up her hand
and called me back.
"No, you can't use that," she told me. "Under a new directive issued
late last night, only men are allowed to use the lifts. All women employees have
to take the stairs." "For fuck's sake," I protested, "it's on the twenty-eighth
floor of the building!" "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "All women have
to walk now. The directive says it will keep them fit." "Yeah, right," I
muttered.
Walking up twenty-eight flights of stairs is no joke. Still, I managed
it. Knocking on the door of the MD's office, I waited for him to call me in.
"Susan Riley reporting, John," I told him.
The look on his face was one of utter amazement. I realised at once I'd
said something that was no longer acceptable under the new laws. But I had no
idea what it was.
"You," he said finally, when he'd recovered from his shock, "do not,
under any circumstances, call me John. From now on you must always address me as
sir. Do you think you can get that into your thick skull?"
I blushed with embarrassment but nodded quickly. If that was all, well,
I could live with that.
"I understand, sir. Sorry, sir." "Good," he said. "Now, there's going to
be a few changes round here, as I'm sure that even you must have realised. Let's
start off with the easy one. I'm dismissing you from your position of Area
Manager. What do you say to that?" "It's your decision, sir," I said quietly.
"Of course I accept whatever you decide."
He stared at me in blank disbelief. For a moment I thought he was going
to have an attack of apoplexy.
"I see that you haven't fully grasped the realities of your new position
yet," he said, looking at me like some kind of moron. "Didn't you read the new
handbook for employee conduct I sent out yesterday afternoon?" "No, sir," I
answered truthfully. "Sorry, sir, I was just too busy working." "Busy working my
arse!" he snorted. "You fems don't know the meaning of hard work. But you will
from now on, I promise you."
I waited for him to calm down before I said anything else. Without a
word he picked up a copy of the new company manual and pushed it across the desk
to me.
"Read the fucking thing," he said angrily. "And I'll start off by giving
you a crash course in the most basic aspects of it right now. For starters, like
I told you, you call me sir. At all times. And you call any male member of staff
sir as well. Or any male visitor to the company. Have you got that?" "Yes, sir,"
I answered quietly.
"Now then," he continued, "what you should have said when I told you
that you were being dismissed was - oh, read section 4.4 in the fucking manual."
I hastily opened the book and turned to the relevant section. My heart
sank when I read it, but I swallowed my pride and said the prescribed words.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "Thank you for dismissing me from the position
which I, as a mere fem, was completely unsuited to hold. I completely understand
and approve of your fully justified decision to appoint me instead to a new
position better suited to my own incompetence."
Now John Gale, the MD, smiled at last.
"That's better," he continued. "Now then, let's get some basics sorted
out. You will be referred to as Riley. Not Susan, not Ms Riley, Miss Riley or
anything else. Just Riley." "Yes, sir." "You will report for duty in fifteen
minutes to the new induction course for fems. During that session, which will
last approximately one hour, the details of how the new work situation affects
you will be explained, so clearly that even stupid cunts like you can't get it
wrong. Then you will begin your new duties."
He paused a moment before continuing. "Naturally you will be assigned a
trainer to help you through this new period of learning to behave and work
properly. We expect the training to take an average of one day at most.
Naturally you will not be paid for the period of training."
I didn't know if I was supposed to respond to that or not, so I just
improvised. As luck would have it, I did the right thing.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for not paying me for the period of retraining. It
is only fair that I should be paid only for the time I work."
An astonished look came over his face, followed by a big grin.
"Hm," he said, "that's good, Riley. I shall have to add that to the
employee handbook right away. Anyway, it's time. All fems must assemble in the
board-room for their retraining." "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He turned to me for a moment and looked me up and down. Maybe old habits
died hard, but it took around a minute before he came out with what had
obviously been on his mind.
"You know, Riley, I've always found you an attractive woman," he said.
"I know from your personnel file that you're an only child and that your parents
are dead. Under the new laws, a fem in your position has two - well, three
choices that can be made about her future. One is to get married, another is to
be sold into slavery, and the third is to become a licensed whore. Now, under
the law, in the absence of an immediate male member of the family, I as your
employer get to decide what happens to you. It would be a waste to whore you
out, and I don't feel like getting married again just yet. Even if I did, I'd
probably take a younger model."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"You're thirty-five years old, Riley, still able to bear children but
probably too old for me to honour you by making me your wife. The obvious
solution is to sell you into slavery. However, there are two ways of doing that.
One is to put you up for sale on a public auction block and sell you to the
highest bidder; the other is for us to come to a private arrangement. Would you
like to become my slave, Riley?"
My head spun when he said that. The bloke was forty-eight years old,
fat, balding, with bad breath and about as appetising as a dead rat. On the
other hand, if I went up for public auction, God only knows what sort of pervert
might buy me. Maybe it was a case of better the devil you know. Taking a deep
breath, and composing my speech in my head as quickly as I could gather my
thoughts, I looked at him and smiled.
"Yes, please, sir, I'd like that very much. It would be a great honour
if you were to make a fem like me your personal slave." "Good," he smiled back.
"That's settled, then. From now on you live in my house as my - "domestic slut"
- is the new title. You will cook for me, clean for me, and of course your body
will be instantly available to me at any time I choose for my personal sexual
gratification. I will expect you to suck my cock, be fucked up the arse, and (if
you're a good girl) up the cunt too. Naturally I will chastise you for any
failure on your part to come up to the high standards I shall require from my
new domestic slut. Only I decide whether or not you have met them. You have no
right to disagree with me over that or indeed any other issue. Oh, and one other
thing, Riley." "Yes, sir?" "When you say please and thank you to me, don't say,
I'd like that very much. Always say, Yes, sir, thank you, sir, I'd fucking love
it if you did that to a stupid fucking cunt like me."
"Yes, sir," I answered quietly. "Sorry, sir. Thank you very much for the
honour you have offered me and I'd fucking love it if you did that to a stupid
fucking cunt like me." "Good," he grinned. "That's settled, then. Time for the
induction session!"
And that was how I became the official "domestic slut" slave to John
Higgins, the Managing Director of the company.
