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Resolution - Part 1 |
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By Nigel McParr
In early March, a couple of weeks before Resolution Day, Celia Killeen a cub reporter for the Community newspaper was summoned to Matron Victoria Aragon’s office. Celia was both honored and frightened stiff when her supervisor told her the owner of the newspaper wanted to see her. It was a rare event. Most of the newspaper’s employees had never met with Matron Victoria Aragon, publisher of the only newspaper in the Community and a leader in the Community. Had Celia known she would be ordered to meet with the owner of the company , she would have worn something prettier to work. As it was, she was plainly dressed in soft calf-high laced leather moccasins, a brightly bordered ankle-length cotton skirt and a loose-fitting high-necked blouse with long full sleeves that hid plump upper arms. She had a buxom shape, cerulean blue eyes, and long ash-blonde hair her Matron kept in a ponytail and wouldn’t allow her to cut it. The ponytail streamed in silken strands down her back, nearly reaching her waist. Her breasts were large, full, and so heavy they met at her waist and grazed the flare of her hips. The older Matrons said she had the breasts and nipples of a working wet-nurse. Their nipples were thick and sturdy almost always partially erect. No matter how she tried to hide them they were always on display beneath the wash-worn fabric of her blouses. She had not the slightest idea how delectable she was. Nor did she realize her co-workers envied the size and sway of her breasts, her pinched waist, and her ample bottom and hips. When Celia was led into Matron Victoria Aragon’s sumptuous office, the Matron took a moment to study her young employee. Victoria Aragon had dark luminescent eyes that seemed to dance with anticipation. In that single glance, Victoria Aragon captivated Celia and put her in her place. She was taller than Celia with a commanding air and a prim set to her carmine lips. Her rich auburn hair was pulled back from the oval of her face into a thick glossy knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a pale silk blouse and an exquisitely tailored skirt that partially hid slender booted calves. Her breasts were high and full with tiny nipples that brushed provocatively through her silken bodice as she rose to welcome her lesser. Celia thought Matron Aragon was the most beautiful and regal woman she’d ever seen. She’d only been with the Community newspaper a short time, but already she’d developed a secret fantasy, which for fear of retribution she didn’t dare share. In her reverie, the Matron allowed her to undo the knot in her hair and brush it until it shown. The fantasy never failed to excite her. It turned the insides of her thighs to the consistency of honey. Victoria fixed her eyes on Celia, intentionally diminishing her until she felt like a child. The older woman spoke in a detached articulate tone that sent shivers through Celia. “You’re my new cubby, aren’t you?” Celia nodded. She responded in a whisper with a faint but discernible lisp she’d had all her life. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ve been in Reporting three months now.” Her pronunciation made the Matron smile. “Well, I liked what you did with that Home Matron story. It was clearly written, factual, but also touching and sweet. I want you to maintain that tone in your stories. It sells newspapers. Your supervisor tells me you did the illustrations, too.” Celia blushed with pleasure. “Yes, Ma’am.” “You have a deft touch with pen and ink.” “Thank you…,Ma’am. I do my best.” A soft knock interrupted the meeting. “Come in, Tommy.” A bronze-skinned young man carrying a tray of tea came into the room. Other than a short leather skirt around his waist, he was naked. A light oiling set off the rippling mass and outlines of his body muscle. He walked lightly like a dancer on the balls of his feet. He set the tray on the desk and stood beside the CEO. She thanked him and put her hand beneath his skirt. Numb with embarrassment, Celia could only watch and wait while the Matron fondled Tommy beneath his skirt. Holding his fully erect cock in her hand, she presented him to Celia. “Isn’t he adorable? I found him at last year’s Resolution.” Celia stared wide-eyed at the ribbed bulbous cock emerging like a great ruby-red standpipe from the ivory texture of the Matron’s slender hand. “Thank you, Tommy. That’ll be all.” The young man smiled affectionately at his mistress then loped out of the office like a young tomcat. Before the Matron turned her gaze back to Celia, Celia realized the Matron considered Tommy to be a toy; a bauble, an object to be summoned and dismissed at will. The insight made her sad. The young man deserved more than that. He may have no standing in the Community, but he was a human being and very cute. “Forget about what you just saw…and him.” Celia blushed scarlet. “Yes, Ma’am.” “I have a special assignment for you. Two young men had the temerity to burglarize our Arts & Crafts Museum. Where they thought they could sell stolen art and jewelry is beyond me. No one or no thing leaves or enters our Community. The Sheriff informed me she’ll be judging and sentencing this afternoon. Atonement in the Square will follow the sentencing. I want you to cover both events. Add something to the story…you have insight and an innate sensibility my other reporters don’t seem to have. And sketch some nice pictures for tomorrow evening’s edition.” Celia looked down at her note pad. How could she tell her superior what she really felt without upsetting her or getting herself into deep trouble? She would have to speak very carefully. “Matron, I know it’s our newspaper’s responsibility to cover all the news in the Community, but why must we play up this kind of news?” For a second, Victoria Aragon was shocked by the sheer impudence of her new employee. Did this cub reporter, the lowliest employee in her company, actually have the cheek to question her editorial judgment? Her first impulse was to smack the girl down. Be careful, little one, she thought. Then something compelled her to give this young woman her head. She nodded to Celia to continue. “Well, Ma’am, what I meant to say is if these events must be covered, could one of the other more experienced reporters handle it? To be perfectly honest, I’ve never covered a punishment and I think I’d find it hard to watch much less objectively report and make sketches of what’s happening.” “And why is that, Celia?” Celia drew in a long breath and plunged in. “Seeing those hapless miscreants taken to the square in a wooden cart while the Home Matrons throw rotten fruit and curse and taunt them is very upsetting. I’d be hard put to draw that scene in the square much less describe in words how the Deputies whip the Undesirables while the crowd cries out for more.” “You’ve eloquently spoken your piece but do you realize where you have put yourself? The Sheriff and her Deputies are just down the street. Perhaps I should alert them as to how your feelings about Community law.” The Matron moved her had toward a green button on her desktop. Celia paled. “Oh, no, Ma’am, please…I-I didn’t mean…I’ll do it. I-I’m sorry I questioned you. I had no right to do that.” “You are absolutely correct and don’t forget it. If you do that again, there will be consequences. To ensure we’re back on the same page, I’m going to call your Home Matron, let her deal with you. You should be grateful for our comprehensive law enforcement and that it’s not you who will be riding in that cart this afternoon.” The Matron and CEO rose from her desk and came around to Celia. “Look up at me!” When Celia lifted her eyes she found herself locked in the Matron’s scorching gaze. She never saw it coming. The slap landed with a ringing pain-filled smack. “Now get over to the Sheriff’s office. She’s waiting for you.” As Celia walked out of the office, her cheek was throbbing. The Matron arrested her in mid-step. “Resolution is coming up. Since you’re eligible this year I’m not going to ask you to cover it.” A horrifying thought suddenly washed over Celia. What if she were chosen? She prayed she wouldn’t be. No one paid her any attention. No, it couldn’t happen. She looked back at the Matron. Victoria smiled at her. “It is what it is, Celia Killeen. You’d better learn to accept it.” “Yes, Ma’am,” she whispered and let herself out.
When Celia arrived home from work that evening, she was exhausted. The ordeal of reporting the sentencing and covering Atonement in the square had left her drained and depressed. She’d forgotten the newspaper owner had said she was going to call her Home Matron. When she came into the kitchen, Home Matron, Elda Hamilton, was waiting for her. She was a caramel-skinned woman with warm brown eyes and graying hair. She had the signature plump hips and massive breasts of a Home Matron. She was dressed in her work-a-day attire: a heavy denim skirt that reached her ankles, white cotton apron, and faded peasant blouse. As a badge of her status, she’d loosened the drawstring at her neckline, allowing the weight of her breasts to draw down the neckline and fully expose her cleavage. Her swaying bustline overflowed her aproned waist while her extended nipples poked through her thin linen blouse. On her head, she wore a bright red knotted scarf. Seeing her charge, Elda planted her hands on her generous hips and gave Celia a tongue-lashing. “Matron Aragon called me this afternoon about your high-flown insolence and reluctance to cover an Atonement. How dare you even hint you would not carry out her orders? Talking trash to a pillar of this Community, I can scarcely believe you’d do such a thing! I’m so embarrassed I daren’t show my face in the market tomorrow morning.” “Matron-” “You shut up and listen to me! There are plenty of young women in this Community who’d love to have your job. Why I’ve a good mind to march you upstairs and take you over my knee…” “I know I deserve a good paddling. I apologized to Matron Aragon for my thoughtlessness and I apologize to you. I’ll gladly submit to your judgment and your punishment if you think I need it.” Elda Hamilton’s expression softened. “I’m not going to paddle you, Celia. Frankly, I could see Matron Aragon being taken aback, but at the same time I think she was pleased with how you defended yourself.” Celia eased out her breath. She would have submitted to her Matron for a paddling. Matrons out-ranked her and she had to obey or find herself in the courtroom. At the same time, knowing she wasn’t going to be spanked made her feel much better. “I’m sorry, Matron. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle.” Elda put her arm around her and squeezed her. “You’re doing fine, Celia. But you must watch what you say to your elders.” “Honestly, I will. That bubbling pot on the fire smells absolutely delicious and I’m starving. Where is Bobby?” “Upstairs. After nearly wearing out his backside, I put him to bed. He’s not leaving that bed until morning.” “What happened?” “He was sent home from work! I don’t know what’s gotten into that naughty twin of yours. However, you are safe. I’ve done enough paddling for one day.” The Matron’s exasperation forced Celia to smile. Her brother was always in a predicament. He was a young man now working in the Community and still couldn’t stay out of trouble. Celia knew he needed a new and very strict Home Matron, but she didn’t say anything to Elda. She relaxed and spoke openly to her Matron. “Matron Elda, you’ve attended lots of sentencings and Atonements. You’ve seen how awful the women can be. Justice must be served in the Community, but sometimes it’s complicated. Today I had to document and record in sketches the fates of two you men sentenced to public whipping. I tried to capture the excitement, the shouting crowd, the expressionless Deputies carting the miscreants through the streets and into the square. I tried to capture the shame and remorse. Of course, the crowd ignored the humble apologies. They cheered the Deputies on, urging them to whip harder.” Elda touched Celia’s arm. “We have an old proverb in the Community; He, who breaks our ancient laws, pays.” “Oh, Matron, I know that. It’s right and fair. I guess I just have to pull myself together. My supervisor says from now on I’ll be covering these events.” Celia paused. “I had the weirdest feeling in Matron Aragon’s office today. I’ve never been that close to her before. There was something very special and wonderful about her. She smells of…jasmine.” Matron Elda smiled proudly. “The other Matrons say she thinks highly of you.” “I didn’t think she knew I existed.” “Don’t underestimate your standing in Community, Celia. Resolution is upon us. You and Bobby are 21 now and eligible.” “No! There are plenty of girls-” “That is true, but none know who will be selected. The Community votes for the Prize and the Select Ten. You need to start campaigning. Every year you wait makes it more difficult.” “Matron, please-” “Look at you. You’re ripe, on the verge, ready to leave the nest. Your bust is almost as large as mine. Do you have any idea how delectably your hips sway and your breasts jiggle and bounce? You’re a handsome young woman, Celia. I can see the lust lurking in the young men’s’ eyes. Even Bobby has taken notice.” Celia turned scarlet. “Really? I didn’t know.” “Well, it’s true. I’d be thrilled if you were voted Select Ten, maybe even the Prize.” “Matron, that’s not going to happen. Besides, I don’t want to leave you.” Matron Elda stroked Celia’s cheek. “Darling, you must leave your home. It’s the way of Community. We all go through it. Now put on a smile. You need new skirts and blouses to show off that voluptuous body - especially your bustline. After supper, we’re going upstairs. I’m going do some sewing…”
Celia’s dowdy high-necked maidenly look began to change as Matron Elda replaced her heavy denim skirts with brightly appliquéd ankle-length skirts that set off her generous hips. Her old blouses became cleaning rags. Her new blouses had short sleeves that exposed the plump contours of her upper arms. High-buttoned necklines became scooped necklines cut shamefully low to expose the expanse of her ivory breasts and jiggling cleavage. Matron Elda wove scarlet and blue ribbons into her long hair and let it cascade from her shoulders to her waist. Celia’s co-workers complimented her on her transformation. Young men risked the cost of whistling at her as she went about the Community. The new attention put a blush in her cheeks even though she couldn’t deny she was secretly pleased. Matron Elda encouraged Celia to enjoy her natural assets. Celia overcame her nerves and told her Matron that Matron Victoria Aragon was never far from her mind. Matron Elda’s response surprised her. “Well, it’s about time, Celia, that you finally own up to your heritage. As for Matron Aragon, it’s too much to hope for, but I cannot think of a more suitable match. Resolution Voting day is coming up. We shall see…”
On Voting Day, Matron Elda took Celia and her twin brother Bobby to Community Hall. There, the twins found their names on the Eligible Candidate list. It meant they could now vote and others could vote for them. Seeing her name on the list, turned Celia’s cheeks crimson with pride and fear. She silently prayed she’d be elected. If time went on and she weren’t, she’d end up in the hands of the Elder Matrons, which didn’t bode well. Unelected young women were turned over to the Elders who put them to work as domestics. Celia knew they would not be as kind to her as Elda Hamilton. While Matron Elda and Celia browsed the names and portraits of those elected in previous years, Bobby spotted a group of his friends. They pointed at Matron Elda and snickered. He had no choice but to sneak off and join them. The beauty of the elected females struck Celia. They all had bodies better than they all had hers, wider hips and bustlines larger than her own. Celia felt like a peasant. She was certain she’d end up in the hands of an Elder Matron. She was so engrossed in the portraits she was unaware of the men and women around her comparing her to the portraits. She didn’t notice their stares and furtive glances. Young men stood back and undressed her with their eyes. At Matron Elda’s suggestion, they left the Gallery to have a look at the sample ballot before they cast their votes. The sample ballot was divided into three categories: Select 10, The Prize, and Recognition. In the Select 10 category, each voter could write in ten male and female names from the Eligible Candidate list. The top ten vote earners became the Select 10 and would be sold at Resolution to Matrons in good standing. Select Ten winners typically went to good homes and upright Matrons who nurtured their acquisitions’ careers. That was not always the case. Select Tens could find themselves in the home of a Matron less interested in their welfare and more about their subjugation and use as sex objects. In The Prize category, the voters had to write in the name of one first year eligible female. There would be one winner. The winner would be auctioned off to the group of fifteen highest vote-getting Matrons on the Recognition ballot. As in the case of the Select 10, The Prize became the property of the buyer. The Prizewinner would never do housework. The Recognition category contained a list of Matrons who had distinguished themselves through significant contributions to the Community. Matrons Victoria Aragon, owner of the Community’s newspaper, and Celia’s Home Matron Elda Harrison were included on this list. The fifteen Matrons who earned the most votes would bid on The Prize. In this way, even though only one distinguished Matron could win The Prize, the Community recognized all these women. The bidding rules specified the Matrons could not know whom they were bidding for until they’d actually won The Prize. This leveled the playing field and made it more interesting.
Matron Elda caught up with Bobby and brusquely pulled him away from his friends. She took the twins into the voting room and gave them each a ballot. Celia thought for a moment then decided she herself had no interest in being one of the Select Ten. Grinning naughtily, she began filling in names on the Select 10 ballot. She wrote in Bobby’s name and the nine co-workers who’d snubbed her after her meeting with Matron Aragon. In the Prize category, she chewed her pencil while she considered her options. If she didn’t write in her own name, it might make a difference in a close vote. If she didn’t win, the Community Elders could take her away from Matron Elda. Since she had no idea how any of this might work out, she finally wrote in her own name, which sent a what if shiver down her spine. When she got to the Recognition ballot, Celia didn’t hesitate. She crossed her fingers and carefully penciled in the name Matron Victoria Aragon. Just thinking of what she’d done made her weak and wet.
To be continued in Part Two
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