Posts Tagged ‘stripped’

Stacy was a very successful rep of Metropolitan Agency. She quickly made a name for herself thanks to being a tall attractive blonde, and due to her aggressive outgoing can do attitude. She took pride in looking great for a 32-year-old woman. She had a sexy body maintained by working out religiously. She had light blonde shoulder length hair, great curves, a fuzzy well-trimmed blonde pussy, and supple C cup breasts. Stacy had thick nipples as wide as dimes centered in plum sized areolas, which always drove her husband and her past boyfriends wild. Despite Stacy’s working out frequently, she still had a little bit of a beer belly which she hated, but hid it as best she could with the form fitting clothing she liked to wear.



Stacy wasn’t without her share of enemies at Metropolitan Agency. She stepped on many toes on her way to success, and in many cases she could be a total bitch on wheels. There wasn’t one person in the office where she worked that didn’t want to put Stacy in her place. Despite being extremely successful in her job, Stacy was a notorious gossiper and back stabber. This was about to catch up with her and change her life forever.



Ryan (Stacy’s office manager) came in early Monday morning as usual to get on top of his agency’s business for the week. He was surprised to find a large sealed manila colored package on his desk. Not entirely sure what it was and having a number of things to attend to, Ryan set the package aside and got started on getting his to-do’s in order. About two hours after everyone got into the office Ryan got around to the mysterious package and opened it up. At first he was unimpressed as he saw simply a stack of papers upon opening the package. Once he pulled them out he saw that they were printed out copies of emails and instant message conversations. Upon reading some of them he noticed that they were all written by Stacy and her friends, and were scathing emails about Ryan, Stacy’s co-workers, their clients, and personal secrets about Ryan and the rest of his team.



Ryan was so upset that he was trembling at his desk. He thought “Oh my God! How could she do this to us!”



It took Ryan an additional hour to cool off enough and think about what he was going to do before stepping out of his office and addressing his employees.



Ryan walked to the center of the office and greeted his staff all at once. “Everyone, I think we have been growing apart over the past year as a group and we need to take a day to have a team building exercise. I’ll schedule a meeting this afternoon so we can plan a fun day for all of us tomorrow.”



Stacy remembered she had an appointment this afternoon. “Ryan, Could you schedule the meeting before 3 pm today? I have a doctor’s appointment today and I need to leave at 3 today to get there on time.”



Ryan retorted, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll work it out.” With that Ryan returned to his office. He decided that he would schedule the fake meeting at 2 pm and then secretly schedule the real meeting shortly after 3 and invite everyone but Stacy to attend. Ryan was feeling blood flush into his cock as he thought about setting up a big surprise for that backstabbing bitch Stacy.



Right on time as the fake meeting was coming to a close, Stacy got up abruptly, grabbed her purse and effects and headed for the door. To every man’s fortune on her team, her breasts jiggled and bounced wildly as she quickly made her way to the door. “See you all tomorrow guys and gals!” She was genuinely excited about the fun day tomorrow.



After she left, Ryan quickly shifted gears and brought out copies of the gossip and back biting emails Stacy had written about him, all her co-workers, and their clients. Janie, Randy, Steve, Chet, Matt, John, and Alison were blown away. Janie exclaimed, “She’s always so mean to us, how could she do this! Augh!” Everyone was getting upset. Ryan quickly began talking to them about what they were going to do to make this right. It was critical that they all work together on this or it was going to fail and blow up in their face in a very bad way…



That next morning Ryan quickly got set up in the conference room so that he was seated facing the room’s doorway at the far side of the table. As his staff trickled in he waited for Stacy to arrive and quickly called her into the conference room. “Stacy, can you join me in the conference room please?”



Stacy just got in and really needed to pee following her commute in to the office. “Ryan I need to use the restroom and I’ll be right with you.”



“Stacy, this will just take a second. Get in here, I need to run something by you, and then you can go visit the girl’s room.” Ryan replied.



“Uhhhhh. Alright Ryan. What’s up?” Stacy said as she came in, closed the door and took a seat across from Ryan.



Ryan couldn’t believe his luck. Stacy was wearing a cute kaki skirt that ended a few inches above her knees, and a low cut cream-colored top that accentuated her very interesting cleavage.



“I need to you quickly look at these and tell me what you think.” Ryan said as he handed over some of the printed emails Stacy had written.



At that point Alison walked by the conference room window and with an evil grin, waved to Ryan and gave him a thumbs up indicating that Stacy had left her car keys and her cell phone on her desk and were now well out of Stacy’s reach.



Stacy excitedly looked at the documents thinking that Ryan was trying to get some professional advice from her. When she saw what the printed documents were she froze with her face looking down on the table. “Ahhh. I don’t know. How did you get…”



Ryan was out of patience and BAM! Slammed his hands down on the table yelling, “How could you do this to us Stacy?! HUH?! You treat everyone here like shit half the time, and then you have to go and stab us in the back and betray our confidence and the confidence of our clients?!



Stacy lost control of her bladder for an instant and peed herself briefly before she composed herself and stopped the flow of urine into her panties and skirt. She hoped that her piss didn’t soak through the back of her skirt. Her face was turning many shades of red and she didn’t know what to say. “I. I. I. I’m sorry Ryan. Ahh.” She couldn’t look him in the eye being so embarrassed that she got caught in her backstabbing and she now realized that she had peed herself more than she thought.



Stacy finally shakily brought her head up and looked at Ryan. She noticed that his pupils suddenly dilated and his tone changed. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We are having the team building fun day, and you are going to be our team building Fuck Slut project for the day today.” Ryan said with a smile as he rose to his feet.



Stacy could see that Ryan’s cock was already erect and restrained within his pants.



She shot up from her seat, barely murmuring “I’m out of here.” Turned and made her way to the closed door.



Ryan noticed a dark wet spot about the size of a softball on the back of her skirt. “Oh my God I made her piss herself!” Ryan thought with glee.



Stacy quickly noticed that the entire staff was crowded around the conference room as she tried to scurry out of the room.



“What the Hell are you all doing out here!” She yelled at them as she began pushing her way through them to get to her desk and escape.



“Grab her!” Ryan exclaimed as he came out of the conference room.



Randy and Alison quickly grabbed Stacy on each side by her arms and pulled her back around to face the center of the crowded circle her co-workers had formed around her.



Janie walked up to Stacy so close that Janie’s breasts pushed into Stacy’s. She slowly exhaled a hot breath into Stacy’s face, looked down at their touching pairs of breasts and looked back up into Stacy’s eyes. “We are going to use your whole body to make us feel good Stacy.”



Janie grabbed Stacy by the hair on the back of her head and kissed Stacy full and on the lips for what seemed like forever, and then ran her wet saliva covered tongue in a big long swipe across the left side of Stacy’s face from her chin to her eyeball.



Stacy began to sob uncontrollably and exclaimed, “You. You can’t do this!”



“We are doing this.” Ryan retorted. “We have to work together here people. Let’s get Stacy out of those clothes. Randy, Alison, hold her. The rest of you start on getting her out of that piss stained skirt” Ryan laughed out loud after he said that.



Stacy began struggle to get free. Janie quickly slapped Stacy as hard as she could across the face as Steve and John each promptly grabbed one of Stacy’s ankles immobilizing her legs.



Ryan pulled out an orange ball gag and tried to get it into Stacy’s mouth. “No way! Mmm mmmm!” Stacy closed her mouth tight not letting Ryan insert the ball gag. Matt stepped forward and gave Stacy a quick jab into her stomach.



“Huhhhhhnnn!” Stacy exclaimed and Ryan popped the ball gag into her mouth quickly buckling it tight behind the base of Stacy’s head. “Ahhhnnnnnnnn!” Stacy moaned around the ball gag now intrusively stuck in her mouth.



“That’ll shut her up for now.” Ryan and Matt said almost simultaneously. ” Now, strip her.” Ryan commanded.



Matt and Janie began to undo the buttons and zipper of Stacy’s skirt and jointly pulled the garment down over Stacy’s curvy tan hips down to her ankles. Steve and John switched up their grip of Stacy’s legs and pulled her skirt completely off leaving Stacy’s with only her lacy light yellow thong panties covering her pussy. They then stood up and began to work Stacy’s top up over her supple C cup boobs.



Randy and Alison forcibly lifted Stacy’s arms up and allowed Janie and Matt to slip Stacy’s top over her head and off of her body.



Stacy now stood, gagged, held by four of her coworkers wearing only her lacey light yellow bra and thong panties, her jewelry, and her high-heeled shoes. With that Randy and Alison thrusted Stacy forward with a shove causing her to crumple immediately to the floor. Steve and John, still holding Stacy’s ankles, now swiftly took off Stacy’s high heeled shoes and released her letting Stacy get up on all fours.



Stacy was mortified, she felt totally vulnerable, and still had to pee something terrible. “Nnnnnnaaaaaaahhhh.” She murmured around her ball gag as a stream of her saliva began pouring out over her lower lip and hung nearly all the way to the floor.



“Stacy, I know how you think this office is a boys club.” Ryan chimed in, “Well, Alison and Janie are now honorary guys in the ‘Boys Club’. They are going to use you today just like any of us men will. What do you think about that bitch?”



Alison stepped over Stacy’s back with Stacy still on all fours on the floor and undid Stacy’s bra, letting it fall to the floor around Stacy’s hands. Stacy quickly grabbed the bra, got up onto her knees and tried to bring the bra back up over her tits to cover herself. The saliva streaming out of her mouth swung back and splatted against her chest and tummy. Steve in a flash reached in between Stacy’s hands cupping her concealed breasts and pulled the bra away from her. In a token effort Stacy tried to reach out to get some of her last clothing back, but to no avail.



“Look at the thick nipples on that bitch you guys!” Steve said. “They gotta be as wide as pennies and a half inch tall! Shit that is hot!



Stacy being on her knees now looked around and saw that her co-workers were either nude or in some state of undress. Every penis she saw was fully erect and bobbing to the blood pumping into the shaft. Janie and Alison were now nude as well and both had one of their hands parting their fleshy vulvas and rubbing their clits as they gazed back at Stacy who was now wearing only her panties.



Stacy tried to stand up but was shoved forward again, this time by Chet. “Where are you goin’ Fuck Slut? We haven’t even started with you yet.”



Stacy was back on all fours again, and Chet wasted no time. SMACK! He slapped her right butt cheek as hard as he could and Stacy toppled to the floor. Chet, Janie, and Randy grabbed for Stacy’s panties so quickly that the panties tore apart in two places as they were pulled off of her limp body revealing her trimmed fuzzy blonde hair covered pussy.



The shock of being slapped so hard and the force of her panties being torn off of her body were too much for Stacy and she began to pee on the floor right were she lay almost motionless naked on the carpeting.



“Oh my! You dirty little slut! Look at you. You pissed yourself right there on the floor. Ahha ha ha ha!” Ryan exclaimed and he and the rest of the team laughed at Stacy now crumpled, naked and gagged laying before them on the floor. Ryan crouched down next to Stacy and reached in between Stacy’s legs at the base of her ass cheeks and ran his fingers up and down her bare pussy lips. Stacy let out muffled whimpers as Ryan’s hand explored Stacy’s meaty labia. Stacy was horrified that her pussy was responding to this humiliation by becoming drenched with her slippery juices. Ryan readily discovered that Stacy was very wet as his fingers quickly slipped in-between Stacy’s labia and easily into her vagina. “Holy shit gang, looks like our little whore is ready for some action! She’s wet! You love being a dominated fuck slut don’t you?”



With everyone now naked, Ryan looked over at his staff, “Steve, John, pick our Fuck Slut here up, take her over to her desk and lay her over the top. I want us to be able to fuck her both ends at the same time. Know what I mean?” He finished with a wink. “Hold on guys.” Ryan said as John and Steve were walking and dragging Stacy over to her own desk by holding by her arms and armpits. Ryan came around to face Stacy grabbed her by the chin and lifted her face up so that she was looking him in the eye. “Do you know what you are? You’re our Fuck Slut today.”



He continued to hold her face looking at her, “What are you?”



“Mmmmmmmmnnnn” was all Stacy could muster through her drool covered ball gag.



SMACK! Ryan slapped Stacy across the face. “What are you?”



SMACK! He slapped her again. “What are you!?”



Ryan with both his hands grabbed both of Stacy’s nipples and gave her a double titty twister. “WHAT ARE YOU!?”



“Aaaaaahhoooooooooooowwww! IMmmmm mour muck mut!” Stacy screamed through her ball gag causing an exceptionally large amount of her spit to ooze out onto her chin and onto her chest and tits.



“You’re going to do everything we tell you too aren’t you Fuck Slut.” Ryan added as he twisted Stacy’s big nipples again. “Understand?”



Stacy nodded and whimpered “Nnnnessssshhh!”



Ryan released the buckle holding Stacy’s ball gag tight in her mouth and pulled the gag out of her mouth. Without looking he handed it off to Janie who brought Stacy’s ball gag to her mouth and gave it a lick while Stacy was watching her.



“Now, what are you?” Ryan said looking at Stacy’s trembling eyes.



“I’m your fuck slut.” Stacy whimpered.



“What was that?” Ryan retorted.



“I’m your FUCK SLUT!” Stacy cried.



“You’re going to do everything we tell you to aren’t you Fuck Slut?” Ryan said with an evil grin.



“Yes.” Stacy murmured.



“You heard it here folks! Alright Steve, John get her over on that desk on her back so that her legs and ass cheeks hang over one side, and her head hangs over the other. We’re going to plow our little office fuck slut from both ends. When your not fuckin’ or getting sucked off by our little fuck slut here make sure you are taking lots of pictures. We’ll need some collateral to keep this bitch under control.”



Steve and John flopped Stacy down over her own desk mere feet away from her cell phone and car keys. “Ryan, you’re the one! Go ahead and be the first one to split that slut pussy.” Steve said as he positioned himself over Stacy’s face opposite of Ryan. “Suck me bitch!” Steve said and he guided his cock in between Stacy’s reluctant spit covered lips.



Not wanting to get roughed up further, Stacy gave in and began to suck Steve’s hard cock. She felt Ryan’s penis push in between the cheeks of her fuzzy vulva. Her wet pussy lips suddenly parted and Ryan’s cock slid into her wet pink love hole. Ryan paused mid thrust, put his hands behind Stacy’s knees, lifted up her legs, drew his cock back and slammed it in Stacy’s pussy all the way to the hilt. “Yeah! Oh my God this feels good. Oh my God! Damn!” Ryan yelled out.



It wasn’t long before Stacy saw Steve’s balls suddenly contract up toward his body. “He’s going to shoot his cum in my mouth!” She thought.



“Ahhhh! Yeah! Ahhhh! Ahhhhh!” Steve exploded a huge load into Stacy’s mouth. With each thrust of his cock into her mouth cum pushed out around his cock and ran down her face into her nostrils and toward her eyes, ears, and hair.



Stacy couldn’t believe it; she never had such a large amount of cum blasted into her mouth. She thought Steve shot almost ten big long streaks of cum into her mouth.



Ryan roared out loud in triumph as he literally filled Stacy’s pussy with his cum. As he withdrew a huge slug of cum sloppily fell out followed by more of Ryan’s cum pouring out of her pussy and over her asshole before dripping to the floor.



Randy quickly replaced Steve in Stacy’s mouth causing Stacy to gag on his cock and pushing more jizz and spit from Stacy’s mouth out onto her face into her nose, eyes, and hair. Matt moved in replacing Ryan and quickly slid his cock a few times into Stacy’s pussy. He then lifted up Stacy’s legs but flopped them both over his right shoulder holding them both with one arm, and guiding his cock with his free hand.



“I’m going to blow this fuck slut’s asshole out. Watch this Stacy, you fucking bitch!” He then withdrew from her pussy and began to press his pussy juice covered dickhead against Stacy’s tight semen covered asshole. With both her asshole and Matt’s dick being so slippery, Matt pushed his hard cock right in there. “Oh man this slut’s asshole is tight! Ahhh! Fuck!”



Stacy exclaimed in pain “Gluck Gluck Ooooowww Gluck Gluck!” and tried to squirm away from Matt invading her ass with his hard cock. Janie and Alison crowded over Stacy and began to slap her tits as they were flopping around and around as Randy and Matt raped her mouth and asshole.



“You’re not going anywhere Fuck Slut!” Alison chimed in as she abused Stacy’s tits with Janie. Janie and I are going to get a piece of you today too you whore!”



Before long Randy let out yell and shot his load of cum into Stacy’s mouth. Again Stacy was shocked to have such a large amount of cum blasted into her mouth. Randy pulled his cock from Stacy’s mouth and grabbed her by the chin and the back of her head. “Swallow my cum Fuck Slut.”



Janie reached out and pinched Stacy’s nose shut. “Do it you cum covered slut!”



Stacy had no choice. She swallowed every bit of Randy’s and Steve’s cum that was in her mouth, and opened her mouth and drew a breath. As she was breathing through her mouth Randy spit into her mouth and Janie spit onto her cum and spit covered face.



Janie came around and stood over Stacy’s face. “It’s my turn now to use that mouth, slut!” She lowered her pussy onto Stacy’s mouth. Lick my pussy you whore!”



Stacy was never with a woman before, in fact she was definitely not interested in having a sexual experience with another woman. Now, here she was being forced to eat the pussy of one of her office colleagues. Janie put her hands down under Stacy’s neck and pulled Stacy’s face up into her pussy. Stacy reluctantly stuck her tongue out and began to lick Janie’s pussy. Stacy worked on Janie’s clit for a bit and then went down to Janie’s vagina and used her tongue to move Janie’s juices up toward her clit. Stacy was surprised at how Janie’s pussy was making her tongue tingle, and how she was making Janie respond well to her tongue movements.



Matt couldn’t keep from cumming any longer in Stacy’s asshole. In one final stroke he drew back and then pushed is cock back into Stacy’s ass all the way to his balls and shot his load of cum deep into her ass. “Good God Man! Oooooh!” Matt exclaimed and withdrew leaving Stacy’s ass gaping open. Matt stepped back and let Stacy’s legs flop down tilting her ass back to the floor. With her ass tilted down, in seconds Matt’s huge load of cum was leaking out of Stacy’s stretched out asshole onto the floor.

Stacy couldn’t believe what she was doing, returning to work following a day full of being gang raped and humiliated at the hands of her own coworkers. She did have a lot of loose ends that needed to be covered off on though with all the work that was left undone the day before. She had to go in and finish up her responsibilities, besides, what happened yesterday had to be a one time thing right? I mean they wouldn’t just jump on me and use me for their own pleasure again right?



Stacy was wearing a cute navy blue one-piece short dress with a pair of high-heeled shoes. She walked quickly to the front door of her office building and carried with her, her purse and her briefcase.



Stacy walked in and the first desk that she had to pass by was Janie’s who noticed Stacy walking in and stepped out and stood before Stacy like she was there to collect something. “Give me your panties Stacy. Remember the rules Stacy, or should I say Fuck Slut. When you come in every morning you have to take your panties off at my desk and hand them over to me for the day. If I have to tell you again, you have to strip down and spend the day working naked. Now, give me your panties.” Janie smirked.



“I can’t believe you’re really doing this. Fine.” Stacy drew up her skirt and pulled her lacey red boy-shorts panties down to her feet, stepped out of them and then slapped them in a crumpled ball into Janie’s waiting hand. “There. Now leave me alone!” Stacy started to walk to her desk.



“Where do you think your going!? I had to tell you twice to give me your panties. You’re going to strip down and work naked today, slut. GUYS!” Janie reveled in her control of Stacy.



Randy, Steve, and John came running over.



“What the Hell’s going on here?” Randy yelled jokingly as he cupped and lifted his now bulging male package with his left hand. Steve already had his cock out, semi hard, sticking through the open zipper in his pants.



“I had to tell Stacy to give up her panties twice. She has to strip down and hand me her clothes. She’s working naked today.” Janie chimed in.



Stacy tried running for the door, but Steve and John grabbed her and pinned her face first down to the floor. “You knew the rules Fuck Slut, now WE’RE gonna take your clothes off for you, and fuck you good for being disobedient.” Steve said as he struggled to hold Stacy down.



Stacy couldn’t believe she was about to be raped by her coworkers again. Janie had quickly pounced on Stacy’s legs and began pulling off Stacy’s high-heeled shoes. Randy was already undoing her outfit’s back zipper as Steve and John held her down. She tried to struggle but could do little else but begin sobbing out loud as Randy opened the back of her dress and undid the back of her racy red bra. Within seconds with Steve and John’s help Randy had Stacy’s dress pulled up over her waist exposing her tan bare bottom and pussy to everyone assaulting her. Stacy couldn’t believe it but even though she was scared and mortified, being dominated like this was turning her on. She could feel that her pussy was becoming drenched as Randy pulled her crumpled dress and now bra up past her bare breasts to her armpits. The scent of her wet pussy was beginning to fill the air around her and her attackers. Janie got up off Stacy’s legs and walked over to her desk and began going though one of her drawers.



“Come on you guys! You can’t do this! Please!” Stacy sobbed as Steve and John forcibly moved Stacy’s arms up and over her head allowing Randy to slide Stacy’s clothes completely off her now completely vulnerable and naked tan body.



“This is part of your training. You little fuck slut.” Randy said calmly as Janie came walking back with a ring mouth gag.



“What do you mean, training!? C’mon you guys. Augh! Come on. Don’t do this to me! What do you mean?” Stacy said now in a panic.



“We. Are going to turn you into a full-blown sex slave. For real.” John said as he fought to keep Stacy from breaking free from their collective grasp.



“I’ll never go along with it. You can’t make me!”



“Ryan’s already set things in motion to make sure this happens, slut. You’re going to become a living sexual plaything, and there’s nothing that you can do about it.”



“Bullshit!” Stacy shouted back at John.



“Fuck this. Let’s get that ring in her mouth! Then we can fuck her mouth all we want.” Said John. Randy pinched and twisted Stacy’s right butt cheek making Stacy scream out in pain.



“Ahhhow! Aughh.” Stacy exclaimed and Janie slipped in the ring mouth gag in place pinning Stacy’s mouth open.



Now totally naked and helpless John and Steve picked up and walked Stacy over to Janie’s desk bending her over the desktop and pinning her torso and one side of her head down onto the desk. One of John’s hands held Stacy’s head down so her face stuck out over the side of Janie’s desk. Randy and Janie started to take their clothes off gleefully looking forward to ravaging Stacy again.



With his almost fully erect cock already out, Steve began to fuck Stacy’s open mouth. “Oh yeah. You remember this cock in your mouth from yesterday, don’t you whore? Ahh!” Steve began to pump Stacy’s mouth harder as Randy got in position behind Stacy’s fully exposed pussy and asshole.



Randy grabbed one of Stacy’s round tanned butt cheeks and one side of her pussy’s vulva with one hand, opening her moist tight pussy with his thumb as he guided his fully erect cock in between Stacy’s meaty pink pussy lips with his other hand. “Ahh come on. Get. In. There… There we go! Oh my God Stacy. You must be a total prude at home. Your pussy is waaay too tight. We’re gonna change that for your Hubby too. Ha ha ha ha! It’s going to be great watching you descend into being a sex object. God I love this!” Randy now gripped Stacy on each side just above her curvy hips as he plowed her pussy with abandon.



As Randy and Steve ravaged Stacy’s defenseless pussy and mouth, Janie approached John from behind and reached around him resting her naked breasts on his back and began to undress him. First undoing his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor and then sliding down his designer briefs helping him step out of them and his pants. John’s erect penis now swinging free, Janie then started to unbutton his shirt to get him as nude as his coworkers so he could help gang rape Stacy.



“Thanks Janie! Way to be a team player!” John smiled as she slid his shirt off one arm at a time to allow him to keep Stacy from slipping free from her double penetration.



Stacy could hear more of her co-workers entering the office and murmuring things as they walked by her being gang raped. She felt mortified but something in her body was coming to life. Her pussy really responded to her being dominated and used. Even now she could feel herself getting close to cumming as Randy and Steve invaded her pussy and mouth.



Steve began pumping Stacy’s mouth even harder and she could see Steve’s ball sack contract upward, and suddenly… “Ahh! Ahhh! Ahh! Oh Yeah!” Steve exclaimed as he pumped his seed into Stacy’s mouth.



Stacy couldn’t believe how much hot thick cum Steve shot into her mouth. It seemed to her like he came forever. It had to have been almost 10 shots of cum. There was so much cum in her mouth and with the mouth gag in Stacy could do little else but just let the cum pour out onto the floor.



Steve withdrew his cock from Stacy’s open mouth and She could feel John letting up the pressure on her back and head. She propped herself up by her own arms and let Randy continue to fuck her pussy. Her beautiful C cup breasts now hanging free of the desktop in the open air began swinging and swirling wildly with Randy pounding her from behind.



John and Steve weren’t switching positions like she thought they might. Janie suddenly sat herself on her desk top in front of Stacy, reached out and undid the ring mouth gag. “Guess what fuck slut? You’re going to finish what you started for me yesterday. Eat my pussy! Janie grabbed Stacy by the back of her head with both hands and pulled her face down to her eagerly moist well-trimmed pussy.



The scent of Janie’s pussy filled Stacy’s nostrils as her face was pressed into Janie’s vulva. Stacy stuck out her jizz coated tongue and began to part Janie’s engorged pussy lips. She began to lick Janie’s pussy trying to mimic the way she liked having her Husband Chad lick her.



Randy was able to hold off from cumming up until now, but once he started watching Stacy being forced to eat Janie’s trimmed brunette pussy he couldn’t hold out any more and felt his rock hard penis prepare to launch a massive load of cum. He really wanted to stick it to Stacy though so Randy pulled out of Stacy’s violated sloppy pussy, SMACK! Slapped Stacy’s left ass cheek really hard and began to jack off his hard pussy juice coated cock with his right hand.



“Ooowwwll!” Stacy almost lost her footing and fell to the floor, but Janie quickly grabbed her by the base of the head and chin, and John was quick to catch her by the torso and shoved her back up into place, bent over Janie’s desktop before punching Stacy lightly in the side of her rib cage causing her boobs to hypnotically flail left and right.



“Get back where you belong Fuck Slut!”



Just as Stacy’s tan bare ass came back right in front of Randy’s cock he began to shoot his load in big long streaks hitting Stacy from the top of her ass crack all the way up her back to her neck and getting into her hair. “Holy shit! Ahhhh ah ah ah ah ahhhhh! Yeah! Oh my God you guys. I’ve never cum that much.”



Stacy could feel Randy’s huge warm cum load stretching up the full length of her back. She never felt more used and defiled. It’s not like her Husband Chad hadn’t cum on her before but she never cared for it and she only tolerated it because it was early in their relationship and she was trying to rope him in to be her man. She would never be okay with Chad cumming on her like that now that they were married. What was worse is Stacy had no idea how she was going to wipe that cum off her back. She could feel it begin to ooze down toward her ass and she could feel it begin to pour down her ass crack over her anus.



Keep going Slut, I’m near! Janie moaned as Stacy continued to lick Janie’s pretty little pussy. Stacy noticed that Janie’s pussy was not as meaty as hers and she was actually enjoying herself a little exploring with her tongue in the inner sides of Janie’s little vulva cheeks and her cute little labia and clit. She began to concentrate more on Janie’s clitoris now and began to press hard on it with her tongue between bursts of little licks.



John stepped in behind Stacy stroking his hard cock. “Looks like I’m going to plow Randy’s sloppy seconds.” John cupped Stacy’s pussy with the palm of his right hand and plunged his thumb into her warm wet vagina parting her pussy lips. He guided his fully erect cock in with his other had and was delighted to feel how easily he slid right in. “Oh yeah, fuckin’ A! This slut is actually pretty tight. We are going to loosen you up real good for your Hubby. How’s it feel to be dominated and taken? I bet you have guys fawning over you every day of your life up until now. Well guess what? We’re gonna own the power now. Get used to it Slut! Ahh! Yeah! Nice! Talking down to you bought me a few more minutes Stacy. I’m so going to top off your tank and pump your juicy pussy full of cum. Ahha ha ha ha! I love it!



Janie really started to respond to Stacy licking her pussy. “Oh my God! I’m cumming! Ahhhhhhhh! Janie’s back arched and her pussy launched a messy flow of cum out of the base of her pink opening hitting Stacy on and in the mouth with the rest smearing onto Janie’s wet vulva. Janie pushed Stacy up and away from her and got up off of her desk. Thank you Fuck Slut, I will definitely be back for more of that oral attention. Mmmmmhhmmmm. Janie said with a grin as she opened a baby wipe canister and began to wipe off her pussy, ass, and the inside of her legs.



Janie then began collecting Stacy’s clothing articles and effects off the floor and locked them in one of the large drawers in her desk. “You won’t be needing these today, Slut. Ha ha ha ha ha! We so own you now.” Janie was grinning evilly from ear to ear as she looked a Stacy being ravaged.



Stacy, defeated propped herself upon Janie’s desk by her elbows and let John finish inside her. She could feel Randy’s cum running down her back toward her ass now. John colliding with her ass cheeks repeatedly has his rock hard manhood plowed her female mound made the cum on her back run down even more and caused her bountiful C cup boobs to really swirl and bounce through the air. John saw Randy’s cum all running down Stacy’s back too and took the top of his right hand and scooped up a good portion of Randy’s jizz on his index and middle fingers and popped them into Stacy’s unsuspecting mouth. As he withdrew his fingers, Randy’s cool dollop of cum scrapped off on the inside of Stacy’s right inner cheek and poured over her tongue and in between her right cheek and gum. John immediately cupped Stacy’s jaw with his right hand and clasped her mouth shut with his thumb pressing down over the ridge of her nose.



“Swallow the cum bitch! It’s gotta go somewhere and what better place than down your throat.” John said with an evil grin as he continued to plow Stacy’s sloppy violated pussy. John was really going now causing the flesh of Stacy’s ass cheeks to ripple rhythmically with each thrust and her round soft breasts were flailing beautifully with abandon.



John could feel his loins prepare to launch a monster load of cum. “Here it comes Slut!” John stopped thrusting and pushed his rock hard cock as deep into Stacy’s pussy as he could go. “Ahhhh! Ahhhhh! Take what I give you Slut! Oh my God Yeah!” John Slowly withdrew and grabbed Stacy by the neck bringing her head up to his with her back still to him. “Tell me you want me whore!” John said and he sucked Stacy’s left ear lobe into his mouth and bit down.



“Oww! I want you!” Stacy cried out.



John grabbed the container of baby wipes from Janie’s desk and slammed it into Stacy’s mid section into her hands. “I thought so. Now go get cleaned up and get to work. Ryan says we have a meeting in the conference room at 10:00 am.” SMACK! John slapped Stacy’s right ass cheek and shoved her forward. “Get over to your desk! Go!”



As Stacy walked across the office to her desk she could feel John’s huge cum load draining out of her meaty pussy lips onto the inside of her legs. As she scurried toward her desk she left a trail of semen dollops on the floor. Her tanned breasts and ass cheeks wiggled and wobbled before everyone’s eyes as she walked. To everyone’s delight she began her humiliating day of working completely naked already looking like a used cum-slut whore.



Stacy was stuck. God only knows how many photos they had of her appearing to enjoy yesterday’s sexual encounter. Not to mention being surrounded by her sexually dominant bully coworkers with no clothes, no shoes, no purse, no car keys, and no cell phone. Only left with her jewelry she was wearing, and the semen and pussy juices some of her coworkers left on her face, back, ass, and in her mouth and pussy. Defeated and humiliated Stacy pulled some baby wipes from the canister John shoved in her hands and began to wipe her vulva, labia, ass crack, and inner thighs clear of semen. She pulled another two sheets out and wiped off her face and chin. She couldn’t wipe out the smell of Janie’s pussy completely as some of Janie’s pussy juices managed to ooze up into Stacy’s nostrils while she had worked her tongue and mouth from Janie’s clit to the base of her vaginal opening while eating her out. Stacy couldn’t believe this was happening to her. All the while she was wiping herself clean, standing there completely naked, Alison, Matt, and Chet worked at their desks only feet away normally as free people. Why was this happening to her? She tossed the used baby wipes into her trash basket at her desk and walked as quickly as she could to the restroom without causing her breasts and tanned ass cheeks from wobbling and jiggling too much for everyone to see. She had to relieve herself before the 10 AM meeting that was less than 10 minutes away from starting. “God! How am I going to sit at the conference room table completely naked with everyone else fully clothed!? How could they do this to me!?” She thought.



Stacy finished using the toilet and washing and freshening up and came back into the office. “Shit! They’re all already in the conference room waiting for me.”



Stacy scampered to her desk, grabbed a large notepad and pen and scurried to the conference room at the back of the office. Her breasts and ass cheeks jiggled fantastically the whole way there. She entered the conference room meekly clutching her pen and notepad to her chest in a poor attempt to cover herself. Both of her nipples were peeking around the sides of the notepad, and she could do nothing to cover her blonde well-trimmed fuzzy womanhood below.



“Nice of you to join us Fuck Slut.” Ryan snapped at her. I heard about what happened this morning, and LOOK AT YA NOW! Working stark naked for the whole day because you wouldn’t give your panties up as you came in. If you’re late to another meeting you’ll be working bare naked for a week.”



“You know, I think we need to add something to our meeting today. We need some entertainment for the team, I mean it is a whole hour. I think we need to have our budding sex slave whore, play with herself for the duration. Stacy, get up from your chair, go to the wall over there. I said get up and get over there, Slut! Matt! Grab her naked ass and get her over there!



Matt quickly stood grabbed Stacy under her left arm and hoisted her up and drug her half stumbling to the far wall in front of the whole team her boobs swinging wildly all the way there.



“Augh! God! Okay.” She stood before them trying to cover herself.



Ryan stood and pointed at her from across the table. “Now, face the wall, put your left hand on the wall, and bend over, stick your bare ass and pussy out toward us and start playing with that blonde pussy of yours, and don’t stop until I tell you.”



Stacy turned and positioned herself as Ryan ordered her, and reached between her legs with her right hand and parted her vulva and labia with her middle finger and began to rub her clit slowly. “Uhhh. Mmmhhhh.” Stacy was shocked that she made noises of pleasure while being humiliated like this.



Alison and Chet, seated closest to where Stacy was standing could already catch the scent of Stacy’s open vagina in the air, smirking gleefully as they watched her.



“Are you a little dry down there now? Here let me help you out whore.” Ryan stood and made his way to the corner of the room and produced a bottle of lube from behind a potted plant in the corner. Ryan then approached Stacy as she pleasured herself and held the bottle of lube about 2 feet above her bare bottom arched out for all to see. He then gave the bottle a generous squeeze unloading what felt like a tidal wave of lube to Stacy pouring down from the top of her ass crack, over her anus, and down into her spread labia and vulva over her hand. Feeling the additional lubrication, her fingers began to really rub and caress her exposed womanhood. “That’s it, now you’re wet again. Now give us a nice hour-long show. Don’t go too fast now.” Ryan sat down and got to business.



“Now, we are going to figure out what we are going to do with the sales commissions for Stacy’s accounts.”



“Hey, that money is from my hard work! It belongs to me!” Stacy yelled out as she stood and turned facing Ryan with her fists clenched at her sides.



“All right.” Ryan stood, and began to get undressed laying his clothing over the back of his chair. “Turn around and keep playing with yourself! Obviously you have forgotten what you are. We, are, making you, our, sexual, plaything.” Ryan slid his boxer shorts off, his cock now exposed and becoming erect pulsing with each of his heartbeats. “Now like I was saying. I think Alison and Matt will take those commission payments, and Stacy here will remain on a comfortable salary, but will be taking on a new role. …Permanent Sex Slave. Since you don’t know your place yet Stacy, I’m going to take that asshole of yours. Oh and ah, keep playing with yourself while I’m using your asshole to get me off.”

Hello everyone, in case you didn’t read either of my last entries here’s a little back story on me. I am a very shy 27 year old woman; I am 5’2″ and 105 lbs. My bra size is 34C, and I have shoulder length reddish brown hair. Up until about 4 months ago I have had a very normal sex life, no one had even seen me naked until I was married (yup virgin bride). In fact a crazy night for me before was if my husband, who I will call Josh, and I switched positions so I was on top!



So you may be asking, how did I go from that to exploits of public nudity? Well, I did it for my marriage and I stand by my choice. Josh was in a very unhappy mood for a while and I finally got him to tell me what was wrong. He admitted to me that he has felt unfulfilled with our sex life. He mentioned that he did not feel like he would ever be able to realize his sexual fantasies with me.



Not long ago, in an attempt to help my marriage, I read a healthy marriage book that had a portion that said for a relationship to truly work, both partners must try to fulfill the other’s sexual needs. At the time I didn’t know sex was a problem. I really wanted Josh to be happy again so I took the book’s advice and prepared for the worst. I let josh know that he could be open with me, and even though I wasn’t very experienced I would do my best to fulfill his needs no matter what they were.



One of his desires was for me to write about my experiences, being completely honest on how they make me feel and post them on the net so he could read the comments it gets with me, so here I go again on my next “adventure” as Josh calls them.



For all the people who have commented on my stories saying hurtful things about my husband, know this, I am happy. I get gifts for no reason, I get random kisses whenever he is around, Josh brings me flowers and cuddles up close to watch movies, he tells me a thousand times a day how much he loves me, he holds me close and I feel that love. Josh asks my opinion on everything and is always willing to watch a chick flick with me, or even go shopping. And most importantly he is happy, every day, no matter how rough his day was, he comes home to me with a smile on his face. So if all I need to do for all that is to fulfill his fantasies and feel some humiliation I gladly accept it. So back to my “adventures”…



This most recent adventure involved something I recently tried for the first time, anal. As odd as it may seem, I actually didn’t mind it, and Josh was very gentle so it didn’t really hurt at all.



We have tried it out a few times now, with both toys and the normal way, so Josh suggested for this “adventure” I wear a butt plug under a mini skirt in a public place. Of course I agreed, not knowing then how bad it would be, not that I would have denied him even if I did.



Josh brought me the outfit he wanted me to wear for the adventure. I didn’t even bother looking at it before I put it on. I knew it would be revealing and I was not surprised in the least to see that it didn’t include a bra or panties, but that’s not to say it didn’t make me a little nervous anyway. Once the outfit was on I looked in the mirror to see how bad this would be.



The outfit consisted of a tank top, skirt and heels. The tank top was white and very short; it came down just below my breasts. The skirt was light blue cotton and loosely fitted to flutter around when I walked; it was also very short and came down only a few inches below my butt. My shoes where simple strap heels with an open toe that I might wear any day of the week. The sight made me instantly nervous, as I always get when I know I am going to perform one of these “adventures”.



Josh whistled as he looked me up and down and said “Nice! I never tire of looking at you in these outfits!”



I blushed and giggled a little, oh how I love the way my husband makes me feel.



After a moment of looking me over Josh held me tight and kissed me passionately and said “I love you so much, let me go get the rest!”



Until then I almost forgot that I still had to put in the butt plug. I was a little nervous about walking around with a butt plug in me but as I said I was starting to get used to anal play so it was not too bad and it would be under the skirt so it wouldn’t be too bad, though I had a unpleasant feeling that it would get revealed at some point or another.



Josh got back up and holding the plug behind his back. He said “turn around I want this to be a surprise love.”



I laughed a mocking laugh, though inwardly the “surprise” part made me a little nervous. I turned around as he leaned me over on the table.



I heard a little squirting noise and Josh said “now I am not going to put too much lube on here because I don’t want it sliding out again. It is water based lube so if I put it on lightly most of it should wear away after a little bit.”



With that he began to work in the butt plug, slowly twisting, pushing and pulling on the plug. Inch by inch the plug began working its way into my anus. Though it is kind of embarrassing to admit, even to total strangers, I kind of like the feeling of anal so this part actually turned me on a little. This plug was just slightly bigger than we had played with yet, because josh wanted it to stay in, but Josh took his time and when it finally did reach its apex it only hurt slightly. Then Josh gave the plug just a little more pressure and it quickly slipped inside me causing me to moan and shiver as I felt the bulb quickly plunge into my anus. I noticed once the plug was firmly in place that the indented portion was also quite a bit bigger than I was used to as well.



Josh pulled my skirt back down and said “you can go ahead and stand now so you can look in the mirror.”



I calmed myself down from the excitement and stood up as Josh asked. Once I stood up strait and my butt cheeks came together I immediately noticed something different about this plug. It didn’t seem to have an overly large base at the end to stop it from slipping in further, just a slight bulge that seemed to stick out a bit because I could feel it sticking out between my cheeks. This struck my curiosity and I quickly moved to the mirror and turned to get a look at the plug. Before I had even turned fully around I gasped in shock! The plug had a 1.5 inch black plastic tail on it that stuck out the bottom of my skirt, curling out and slightly up a few inches, scrunching up the back of my skirt ever so slightly.



I turned to Josh and stuttered “b-but people will see the… the t-tail going up into my… my butt.”



He held my face in his hand and said “they will not actually see it go into your butt; they will just see it disappear under your skirt. Now I am sure some people will figure out where it is going and will therefore know you are walking around with something inserted into your anus. But that is part of the adventure love; remember it is supposed to be embarrassing. And it is perfectly legal; I had a lawyer look into it for me… Will you still do it? If not I will understand.”



I could see that Josh was putting on a good act trying to not look too disappointed, but I could tell he really was looking forward to this so I said with all the conviction I could muster “Of course I will still do this love, I would do anything for you…”



He scooped me up in his arms and held me tight saying “Oh baby, I love you so very much. You are the best wife ever! Now let me detach this for the car ride.”



As he spun me around and began unscrewing the tail from the butt plug I replied “I love you too dear.”



He got the tail section of the plug off leaving the bulb and the slightly flared base inside me. Josh ran off in excitement to get stuff in the car and I followed behind him with worry and nervousness.



Once we got in the car Josh said “Jenni wanted to be a part of this but since she is still out of town she couldn’t, but she did actually help me out figuring out some of the details.”



I replied “So that is what she meant when I talked to her yesterday. She said she had been working with you on a surprise for me.”



Josh just laughed and we talked a little about Jenni and her past experiences with me for a bit.



For those of you who may be jumping into this story without reading my other “adventures”; Jenni is a friend of mine who we met on my first “adventure” and is the only one who knows Josh and my real names and the activities we perform. She has actually been involved with a couple of them and she always looks out for me, and also torments me on occasion. We are supposed to be having a big party soon where I will be the main attraction, but that there is no word yet when that will be.



We drove a very long way this time, over two hours. The entire time I was squirming against the butt plug that I still had inside me. To make the drive even more difficult Josh kept reaching over and rubbing between my legs making me incredibly horny. I was going nuts by the time we made it to our destination. I wanted so badly to orgasm; in fact I was so distracted I totally forgot about the humiliation I was about to endure.



Once we stopped I remembered why we were here and began to feel my anxiety build back up and wash away my desire. I noticed that we had arrived at another large mall barely after noon. Since it was a weekday it seemed we had hit the lunch crowd because there were a lot of cars in the lot. This made me even more nervous.



Josh opened the door for me and I got out of the car. He crouched down behind me and re-attached the tail section back to the butt plug. He turned me toward him and held me close. He kissed me passionately and to my surprise pulled my skirt all the way up with one hand while holding me close with the other. I instinctively tried to jerk away at first but controlled myself, reminding myself that this was his fantasy.



Josh pulled away and while I looked around nervously to see if anyone had seen he laughed and said “Don’t worry love I made sure no one was around; though I love that you let me do that not knowing that.”



I just said “Anything for you.” Which was true, I would do anything for him.



Josh picked up a small bag and asked “Are you ready?”



I still have no idea why he keeps asking me that; like I could ever be ready for this kind of thing. But I just nodded to him nervously.



He smiled and said “Ok, you lead the way. I want you to go inside and follow the instructions I text you.” As he handed me my phone. “Oh and if anyone asks what the tail is, or how it feels you must answer honestly, if anyone asks anything else look to me for the answer ok?”



I shuddered a little and nodded my head in agreement.



Josh gave me another kiss and then pointed to the mall saying “Ok love, lead the way.”



I paused beside our car and looked both ways waiting in terror as a young couple passed by going to the mall. The young man looked at me as he passed but otherwise they did not pay me too much attention since my tail was not visible to them. Once they passed I took a deep breath and with all the courage I could muster I stepped out into the open. As I left the privacy of the space between the cars I immediately felt very exposed. Even though I was technically not showing any of my private areas I knew the tail was highly visible and would cause anyone who noticed to stare and wonder where it went. Plus my outfit was much more skimpy than most people would every wear to the mall.



I walked down the parking lot and was almost immediately passed by a car from behind, I was too afraid to look at the driver but Josh told me later that it was a middle-aged man and he was staring intently at my butt as he passed. I just shivered a little and kept my eyes down. Once he passed and I looked up again I noticed that in front of me there was another car coming towards me as well as two men and a woman. There were other people around at varying distances looking at me but none that were close enough to be personally involved.



The car passed me first and I angled myself slightly in hopes of hiding my tail from his view, which seemed to work. Next came one of the men, he was a well-dressed man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He glanced at me before he passed but immediately averted his eyes once he saw me looking at him. He passed me by awkwardly looking away from me, but I was sure he would look back as soon as I passed him, though I didn’t dare look back to see.



Once the man was out of ear shot Josh came up a little closer and said “Until we make it into the mall I would like for you to look back every time someone passes by you ok? That last guy was priceless!”



I just nodded again in agreement, even more nervous at having to see them when they noticed my tail.



Next was a young woman probably right out of high school. She looked me over and lost interest quickly. A couple seconds after she passed me I looked back but she was just walking away, not interested enough for a backwards glance and therefor missed seeing my tail. This relieved me tremendously.



Before the other man got to close to me I noticed a couple of guys getting out of a car just ahead of me. I slowed down to let them get in front of me but they were taking too long to get out of the car and Josh cleared his throat behind me which I knew meant I should keep going. I heard them finally shut the doors a little after I passed their car. They were still within earshot and I heard they were talking about where they were going to eat, but then they suddenly got quiet and I could no longer hear them. I knew this had to be because they noticed my tail, I did not look back, as Josh said I just had to look back at the people who passed me and they did not, they were following behind me, which in my predicament was much, much worse.



By this time the other man I saw was coming up to me. He was an older man, probably in his sixties, and he was looking at me with curious eyes. He did not look away when I looked at him like the last guy, in fact he smiled and even went so far as to say “Afternoon miss” and nod to me as I passed him.



Again after a couple seconds I looked back to see the man staring back at my but with a happy but slightly confused look on his face. I also saw the two men behind me who were watching me intently and talking in hushed tones to each other. Once they saw me looking back they laughed and one of them nodded towards me with a smile. This caused them to laugh even more.



I jerked my head back and just tried to keep walking forward without falling on my face from nervousness. I noticed as I looked forward that a couple of women had come out of the mall doors as I was getting close to it.



I had to stop at the end of the row of cars to let a car pass by, which unfortunately put the two men right behind me. I heard them chucking to each other and fearing they would talk to me I hurried across the street towards the entrance to the mall where I passed by the two women. I was so worried about getting some distance from the men behind me that I forgot to look back after I passed the two women, but I doubt they cared enough to look back at me. I did notice out of the corner of my eyes however that there were now more people coming up behind me from other areas of the parking lot. I hurried into the mall and almost accidently knocked over an old lady in my haste. I apologized and passed by her, keeping my front to her at all times.



Once in the mall I was hit with another wave of fear as I noticed how many people were all around me. There was no way to keep my tail hidden from sight. I looked around in terror as I noticed some people already staring at me, and my tail, in confusion. I was so very embarrassed. I felt my phone vibrate and I quickly looked to see what it said.



Josh sent me a message saying “Find a store that sells costume jewelry.”



I walked quickly to one of those map stations they have in malls and quickly found a store that would do the trick. I hurried off in the direction of the store and got another text saying “Slow down.” With a sigh I slowed down to my normal speed and made my way to the store. I was surprised to note that even though I got a lot of strange looks no one bothered me.



Once I got to the store I got another text saying “Pick out a bracelet you like and take it to the counter.”



I found a simple looking bracelet right away. Turning toward the counter I noticed the two girls working there were staring at me. Both looked about 19 or 20 and were skinny, one was blond while the other had black hair with purple and red dye in it. Blushing red, I walked up to the counter where the two women were and just as I was about to set down the bracelet I got another text.



This text said “Ask the girls behind the counter if they have any jewelry you could use to decorate your tail. Turn slightly, stick your butt out and gesture toward your tail when you do.”



I turned my head toward josh and gave him a pouty face.



He just smiled and nodded toward the counter.



I turned to the closest girl, the blond, and asked her “Do… do you have anything you would reco-recommend to decorate my uh… my tail?” As I said it I turned and stuck out my butt a bit pointing at my tail.



The other girl, the dyed one, tried to suppress her laughter without much success. This made the blond I was talking to blush and smile.



The blond replied “Um… are you messing with us or something?”



I just blushed more and said “N-No, I just want to… to get something to decorate my… this.” Pointing at my tail again.



“Why are you even wearing that thing in the mall anyway?” asked the woman with dyed hair.



I looked at Josh and he just shrugged at me so I just replied “Um… I just… I like to wear it sometimes, that’s all.” I am not a very good liar so that was all I could come up with at the time.



“How does it stay there? Is it attached to your skirt? Or a bikini bottom or something?” asked the blond.



I got really nervous now; this was one of the questions I was trying to avoid because I would have to tell them what it really was. I cleared my throat nervously and with a slight tremble in my voice I replied “Um… well… it is a um… pl-plastic tail that is attached to um… attached to a b-butt plug.”



The blond just stared at me with an open mouth while the girl with the dyed hair said in a shocked voice “No way… you gotta be shittin me.”



I just stared at the counter in shame trembling all over.



The blond stammered out “So… so that… thing [pointing at my tail] goes… you know… in your ass?!”



I trembled with humiliation and just nodded in response.



The two girls just stood there for a moment and I didn’t know what to do.



Finally the blond chimed in again and said “why would you choose to wear that? And in public too?”



I just repeated “I um… I just do… I don’t know. Now could I please just get… well could you suggest something to decorate it so I can leave?”



Again my horrible lying was not helping me, in fact I think it made the girls behind the counter even more confused, and curious.



They just shrugged and probably too stunned to know what to say. The one with the dyed hair finally said “Why do you need to decorate it? Isn’t it bad enough that you are walking around with a tail in your ass? Now you want to bling it out!?”



The blond seemed to brighten up saying “Speaking of bling, we could poke some ear rings into it!”



I didn’t really know what I was supposed to agree to so I just said “Um… maybe that would work.”



Just then I got a text said “Tell them you changed your mind. Thank them for the help and leave the store. Now I want you to find a store that would sell dresses.”



I did as I was told and rushed out of the store as the two girls stared after me. I found another map station down the hall a ways and began looking for a clothing store. I found a one on the map and started walking quickly to its location but caught myself and slowed my pace to normal. I made my way across the mall to the clothing store. All around people stared at me as they noticed my revealing outfit and even worse, my tail. Luckily no one bothered me on my way to the store; they just looked at me without comment, or at least not any I could hear.

Tom sat on the train, thinking it had all gone wrong. Not only had it all gone wrong, but it had just got worse. Instead of being at the hotel with Kelly, he was on the train on his own. There had been no point going to the hotel after the concert, and what happened there. Instead he decided to take the train home, back to the north, to Leeds, to arrive in his home city for maybe two or three in the morning, at least saving the money for the hotel room. He had been sat on the train thinking he would get a bit of sleep, but then about 10 of them — drunken middle-aged women – had all sat in the seats around him — a hen party on its way home after visiting the capital for a good night out. It was obvious the good night out had included a lot of alcohol. Four had sat around the table opposite; two had sat on the same table as he was on. Why they couldn’t sit somewhere else, away from him, he didn’t know. Probably wanted to talk to their friends, or more likely shriek with laughter for the next three hours northwards. There was another two or three sat around the next table as well. No sleep, that was for sure.



The weekend had all started so well, with such high hopes. He had been dating Kelly for a couple of months. She was bubbly, blonde, slim and only an inch shorter than him. She was hot. But she took her time. They were getting on great, and had decided to travel to the concert, then spend the night at an hotel before travelling home the next morning. But it was more than that. It was the first time she had agreed to share a bed with him. It was the first time she was going to let him INSIDE her panties. She had told him on the train down she was on the pill. The hotel was going to be the first time they were going to have sex. She had given him a hand job, once. He had been allowed to put his hands on her panties, once. But this was going to be the first time they were going to go all the way. Until the concert.



The concert had been his birthday present to her. He was working so could afford the trip, while she was still a student at 19. He had been working for 18 months, at the grand age of 21, even living in his own small flat for independence. He had won multitudinous brownie points for booking the concert — Kelly’s favourite boy band. He reckoned at times she loved the boy band more than she would ever love anyone else! They were a bit better than the soppy cutesy sort that 13 year olds love, and he could put up with an evening of listening to them, especially if he was going to get his reward later…



It had all gone wrong. The band was good, and the evening was good. Until the encore. 4 guys singing and dancing, and getting a group of girls up on stage to dance with them through the final number. So the final number began, and they pointed at a group of three girls in the front row of the theatre. Security guards went into the audience to collect them. Then the disaster. The lead singer pointed at Kelly. She was ecstatic. Tom just remembered the rumours, of what happened to the girls who danced with them. Two security guards came to collect her. To be fair, they asked if she wanted to dance with the band, and she wanted it more than anything. Kelly and Tom had joked about the reputation the band had on the way down in the train. Tom said “Stop, please…” but the bigger of the two security guards — much bigger than Tom – had told him they were always sent home in a taxi in the morning. Wherever they were from. And that was it. He had his dreams, and he had paid for the trip. And his girlfriend was going to be groupie for the night, gangbanged by the band and probably a few roadies as well. And he was getting nothing.



It hadn’t been worth going to the hotel: he caught the last train home, north. Non-stop for three hours, then back to his flat. And now to make things worse stuck with a whole bunch of drunken women.



Tom looked at the women, and thought if they were a bit more sensible and sober some of them would be attractive. Most were in their thirties or forties, one on the other table perhaps late fifties, one on the third table perhaps early twenties. It looked like an office girls day out, which seemed to include a lot of drinking, the Lion King Show, a lot more drinking, and then bags of alcohol carried onto the train. Within ten minutes of being on the train, just as they were leaving Kings Cross Station his head was ringing. He noticed that he and this group of women were the only people in the carriage. It was going to be a long journey!



After a few minutes, Tom had another problem. His trousers were uncomfortable. The women were loud, they were drunk, they were drinking and they were also crude and ribald.



“You should have paid the taxidriver with a blow job,” shrieked one to the lady sat next to Tom. Everyone laughed. Her ripost was quick.



“Didn’t look like he would make it – reckon he would have had a heart attack when I finished with him!” More laughter. “Anyway I wanna see his cock before I decide whether I’m going to suck it!”



Another lady shouted out. “Why, you only suck big ones?”



Tom sneaked a look at the lady sat next to him. She was perhaps forty, outgoing, filling out a bit, but with short black hair. Dressed in a pair of black trousers and white blouse — she had thrown her coat onto an empty seat.



The banter between the ladies continued for a bit, fuelled by the alcohol. They laughed about what size cocks they liked. They joked about men who had made them scream, and those who had been weak. For Tom it was difficult — all these women talking so openly and brazenly about sex was having an effect on him. He had heard about hen parties, and seen women a bit like this on a documentary about late night drinking, but wondered whether it had all been exaggerated. It clearly hadn’t.



The banter continued. The lady next to him shouted at one of the girls: “Hey Tracy, you prefer women any way, don’t you? Which of us would you want to take to bed? What you want to do? Sit on their face, lick their pussy?”



There was a moment’s quiet. One of the ladies on the table opposite, presumably Tracy, spoke. “Take on anyone of you if you want. If anyone’s up for it!” She had clearly decided to brazen it out. The woman next to Tom replied.



“No-one’s UP for it when it’s two women. Unless you got a strap-on, I suppose!”



Another of the women on the opposite table, over the laughter, spoke. “I’d love to use a huge strap-on on our boss, the swine. Then take it home and use it on the old man…”



Tom kept his eyes down, his voice silent. But then there was a silent moment. And Tom shocked by the next thing he heard. Up to this moment it had been bad not screwing his girlfriend for the first time. Then being stuck on a train with a bunch of drunken women. The words he heard next made it a hundred times worse. It was from a lady on the table opposite. To the woman sat next to him. “Hey Nancy, there’s a cute boy sat next to you. Wonder what sort of equipment he’s got?”



Tom’s first thought was that he knew the name of the woman sat next to him — Nancy! But suddenly he was aware of what had followed…



And it got worse. Nancy turned to him. Spoke to him. “Hey, boy, how big is your cock when it’s stiff?”



Tom mumbled. It was so difficult. So embarrassing. Part of Tom was okay with this. He knew he had seven inches, and thick as well. And women he’d been with in the past had admired it. It was the brazenness of it all, the embarrassment of it all…



Nancy wasn’t to be stopped. “You want to show it to us? Let us have a good see. Course, Tracy might not be interested, but the rest of us…”



Tom whispered. “Please, no…”



Nancy wasn’t finished. “Tell you what girls, let’s have a look and have some fun with the kid.”



Tom was stunned, but before he could speak, Nancy continued. “Get him on the table. On his back. We’ll see what he’s got.” Before he could move Tom felt Nancy and the other woman on his table grab his arms, and pull him to his feet. He tried to struggle but the cramped space and his unwillingness to strike out hard at women stopped him getting away. A couple of the other women reached over and helped, and Tom found himself pulled onto the table, then manoeuvred so his head was against the window, his legs in the aisle of the train. The swaying of the train made him feel less secure.



Tom felt his arms and legs held firm, and despite his squirming and struggling was manoeuvred onto his back, unable to escape. “Please, stop, please it is uncomfortable, it hurts…” Tom’s back hurt as his legs dropped to the floor, the edge of the table sticking into back. As he squirmed on the table he felt hands struggling with his trousers, undoing his belt, undoing his flies, pulling his trousers to his feet, off his feet, removing his shoes and socks at the same time. His boxers quickly followed, as did his t-shirt.



At last he was held, naked on the table, his arms pulled down over the edge, his feet touching the floor. “Please,” he said, “It hurts. My back…”



Nancy now seemed to be in charge. “Well, pull your legs up to your chest, and stop struggling. Tracy, Lorna — hold his ankles and pull them up so his back is okay.” In his desire not to be hurt, Tom forgot to kick out, but let them raise his feet above his waist, towards his head.



There are a moment of quiet as Tom realised there was no help, no escape, as the women just held him on the table.



“Wow, look at that gorgeous cock.” He didn’t know who said it, but the raucous agreement touched him, and for a moment he felt proud, but just for a moment.



“Look at his little boyhole. Where’s that strap-on when we need it…” said another voice, to all round laughter.



“Please, what are you going to do to me?” With a bit more clarity and moment to think, Tom was getting worried, frightened, as well as embarrassed that nothing was now hidden from these women. All he could hear was clickety clack of the train on the rails, all he could feel was the swaying of the train, making him feel less steady, adding to his fears.



“What’s you name, sonny?” Nancy asked him. He told her.



“Tom, we’re not going to hurt you — just have a bit of fun with a cute boy with a gorgeous cock. Milk you a couple of times, explore hidden things.” Nancy turned and asked if anyone had any Vaseline. She was handed a pot by someone, and put some on her finger. Tom couldn’t quite see what was happening. But he felt it. He felt the finger on his asshole, then pushing into him. Slowly, but relentlessly. Fully into him.



It was strange, bizarre. It didn’t hurt — he just felt full. He felt violated — no-one had ever done that to him before. And that no-one included Tom himself — he’d never thought of it. He felt so embarrassed his asshole was being used like this. And he felt excited — excited like he had never been before. All these women watching him. Complimenting his cock. And the finger inside him — his cock twitched, hard as rock. The women laughed as he responded to what was happening to him. There was a little part of him which said he couldn’t help it — four hands were holding him tight on the table — two bending his arms over the edge of the table, two holding his ankles, but another part that was honest — he wouldn’t move even if they let go.



As Nancy held her finger deep in his ass, she grasped his balls with her other hand and gently squeezed. She was almost offhand with him. “Nice set of balls,” she said, paused. “Nice bit of totty. Let’s see what he can do. Marge, jerk him off — let’s see what he can deliver.”



As a hand grasped his cock, Tom realised what was going to happen. They were going to make him cum. It was so hot, and even more embarrassing. Tom had his eyes closed, but heard the voice whisper in his ear. “Not going to let you cum until you are begging for it. Like the sound of that?” Tom wasn’t sure he did like the sound of that, but his cock did as it twitched in the hand that was holding it. He felt like he was totally humiliated, violated — a finger in his ass, a hand grasping his balls, another grasping his cock, then expected to beg for it.



The lady — Marge — was good. She began to gently run her fingers up and down Tom’s cock, almost exploring it to see what shape it had. She ran her finger over the tip of his cock, rubbing his pre-cum all over the tip. He felt the finger in his ass withdraw, then thrust hard into him. He knew for them it wasn’t wholly sexual — with the audience cheering, making crude comments, he was just a toy for them to play with. And they were enjoying the playing.



Suddenly the speed changed — the finger was thrusting hard in and out of his ass. The hand was grasping his cock and sliding up and down. He felt his breath coming shorter, panting. His hips were thrusting up and down. He wouldn’t last much longer. Then it stopped. The hand jerking him released him. The finger stopped thrusting in his ass. His balls were released. He was desperate — he would have jerked himself off if he had a free hand. “Please…” he whispered.



“Please what,” asked Nancy.



“Please let me cum.”



It was Marge who spoke, although Tom wasn’t sure which one Marge was. “What did I say?”



Tom remembered. “PLEASE, I BEG, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM…”



There was a pause — Tom knew they were waiting for more. He wanted more. “Please, jerk my cock, please finger fuck my ass, please play with my balls. Please let me spurt…”



“That’s very naughty language in the presence of ladies, young man. But we’re nice. We’ll do that, but I want a proper internal — it’s going to be two fingers this time…”



Tom felt Nancy pull her finger almost out, then felt another finger entering him, beside the other. It did hurt. It stretched him, but it was good. He felt the hands grasping his balls and cock. He felt the hand beginning to slide up and down his cock. It was so good. His hips were thrusting up to meet the hand, faster and faster, as the women cheered. Suddenly he cried out. Screamed out. Moaned long and hard, as he shot his cum out of his cock, emptied his balls, pumped over and over, as the women cheered. He seemed to pump over and over, unstopping, although he quickly finished when his balls were emptied. Relaxed, breathing heavy.



“Look at the mess here.” Nancy was speaking again. “Have to do something with this.” Tom felt a hand where his cum was. Suddenly he felt the fingers entering his mouth, as he breathed heavily. Suddenly he knew what they were doing — they were making him eat his own cum. And he couldn’t stop them. The embarrassment was excruciating, but he coped with the taste.



It was odd — when it was over, they sat him back in his seat, and the other women went back to theirs. He was sat naked with Nancy next to him, the lady called Marge, the one in her late fifties he now realised, but still smart and attractive, sat opposite him. All the other ladies had returned to their seats and somehow were chatting normally, eating sandwiches, drinking wine.



Nancy was simply talking to him now as a friend, asking where he was going, why he was travelling alone at night. And he told them. About Kelly. The concert. How she had chosen to be a groupie rather than go with him. And how they were going to sleep together for the first time, and it hadn’t happened. Nancy had even given him some wine to drink. She had told him they were a group of women who worked in an insurance office, perfectly respectable, most married, apart from Tracy who was in a civil partnership. Just that every so often they had a trip to London for a show, got a bit too drunk and could be a bit rowdy on the way back. Not that they had ever done anything like they had to him before. This time they had drunk a bit more than normal…



“Anyway, young man, you shouldn’t be going around plotting to get a young lady in bed. That’s a very naughty thing to do. Girls…” Nancy had raised her voice. “Do you know what Tom was planning to do this weekend. Planning to get his cock into his girlfriend for the first time. Very naughty.”



There were calls of how naughty he was way. That he should be punished as the naughty boy his was. Tom was suddenly alarmed. He thought his ordeal was over. Suddenly he felt it was brewing up again. “What should we do to him?” cried Nancy.



“Give him a good spanking.” Tom didn’t see who suggested that, but it didn’t matter — he heard everyone agree. Suddenly he was in the middle of a scrum as they grabbed him again, pulled him, until he was leaning over the table, this time on his stomach. It felt odd, his body was on the table, but his cock was sort of under the table, the edge of the table resting in his pubic hair. He had struggled, but he couldn’t escape, until two women were holding his arms over the side of the table so he couldn’t escape.



“AAAAEEEEEEEE” Tom cried out as he felt a hand spank him hard. Then another, on his other cheek. It was ridiculous — his cock was beginning to twitch again, a mixture of having been naked, and now spanked. Hard. It wasn’t a gentle spanking.



Suddenly there was a whole stream of hands smacking his ass, different women stepping in to take their turn. Tom couldn’t see, but his ass was looking bright red. He could certainly feel the stinging as his ass got treated to a rain of blows. “Please stop, it hurts, please.” Tom felt tears running down his face.



Nancy spoke to him. “Stop? For what a naughty boy like you was going to do? I don’t think so.” The smacks continued. Tom lost count at about thirty. They didn’t stop at thirty. Everyone wanted their go, some harder, some softer, but none seeming to show him any pity. The pain became excruciating, when he heard Nancy say “Stop. Think he has learnt his lesson.” Tom’s ass stung horribly, and if he could have seen it, was glowing bright red. Unashamedly, tears were running down his face.



The blows stopped, but a hand grasped his cock. He was being jerked off again. He was hard. His balls ached. The hands were very skilled — within seconds he was moaning, suddenly crying out as he shot his load somewhere under the table.



They let him lie on the table until he was ready to move. The embarrassment was still high as they made crude comments about his ass, how he deserved the spanking, how they should have brought a strap on, how he was a good virile young man. When he did move he stood and walked a little way along the aisle of the train — he felt he couldn’t sit down. One of the women handed him his clothes and told him they would be arriving at the terminus in ten minutes.



Tom struggled to get his clothes on. There was only a pair of jeans, and t-shirt and trainers. That was all they had given him. His mobile phone was gone, as was his wallet. He had no socks, boxers. His keys were in his pocket. His luggage — what little he had in a small holdall – was gone. And they were gone. The train was standing in the station — he had to go home. It was a long walk — a couple of miles — he couldn’t phone anyone, or get a taxi. As he left the station he saw the women disappearing in two taxis. He started to walk the other way, knowing it would be at least an hour before he got home…



It was 4.30am when Tom eventually got home. His feet were blistered. He was aching, and hurting. He was angry they had taken his wallet, his luggage, his phone. Tom slumped in a chair, cried, and fell asleep…



It was late morning when Tom woke. He was surprised he woke with his cock rock hard. He immediately remembered the previous night, the train journey — and every thought caused his cock to twitch. It was ridiculous — he had to jerk off before he could do anything else, it was so hot remembering.



As he made himself a bowl of cereal he heard something land through his letter box. He went to the hall to see the large letter. He opened it. He found his phone, with a message from Kelly saying the night had been better than ever it could be with him, and she was staying on as a personal assistant with the band, it was over. Tom had already resigned himself to that.

My name is Richard Schwartz and I am married to Ellen Schwartz. We have been married for three years. Currently I am being held prisoner by Farc rebels deep in the Colombian jungle. I am being held with the wife of my best friend Amy Wallace. My wife and Ellen’s husband Jeff are being held out of our view on the other side of this rebel camp This journal is being written with the permission of my captors in that they don’t seem to care that I am writing it.



My story started with a vacation. I’ve known Jeff Wallace since college we did everything together at school. We pledged the same fraternity and started on the college baseball team. We even met our wives at the same time. Ellen and Amy were both dateless at a school dance because their beaus were last minute no shows. I was taken with Ellen, although to be honest I’ve always been attracted to Amy as well but there seemed to be the most fireworks between Ellen and myself and Amy and Jeff.



I really don’t have to tell you that we served as each others best man and that the girls were maid of honor and matron of honor to each other. We even ended up buying houses in the same subdivision. Jeff and I do not work together. He is a high level international lawyer. I lucked into a golden opportunity and now own a luxury golf course. Each of us are wealthy men. Our wives have done well also. Amy litigates next to Jeff while Ellen owns a flower shop near the college campus. I am amazed at the money she brings in on Valentine’s day and formal dance season. The rest of her year is not too bad either.



We were in Columbia as guests of the Wallace’s. Amy and Jeff are both fluent enough in Spanish to pass for native speakers. They spend lots of time in South and Central America as representatives for major corporations and have a knowledge of the area most Americans will never possess. Neither Ellen nor myself speak Spanish. I took German in high school and college and Amy is quite adept at French. She was a lifesaver when we on vacation in Paris. Anyway Amy and Jeff wanted to give us the tour of South America that they loved. Beyond the tourist traps to the small villages and remote attractions. Ellen and I just let The Wallace’s interact with the natives and interpret the menus for us at all of the quaint restaurants we stopped in. It was wonderful until Jeff decided that we just HAD to see a remote waterfall so off into the jungle we went. I had no clue as to where I was then and I sure as shit have no clue as to where I am now.



Our small touring party strayed into Farc territory. Farc members are not nice folks they want to bring down the Columbian government by any means possible. They have tons of illegal drug money to fund their operation. Our party was stopped. Once they had our passports it was all over for us. Jeff and Amy had worked for interests that were mortal enemies of Farc. In these days when the internet pierces even into the jungle it did not take long for our captors to realize that Jeff and Amy made very enticing hostages. If the U.S. Would not bargain with them, one of the corporations or entities that Jeff and Amy had represented would certainly play ball. Ellen and I, as fellow Americans were considered useful as well. The rest of our party was permitted to return to civilization. The four of us were led deeper into the jungle to the rebel base



It took about three minuets for the rebels to assess everyone’s language ability. Before I could even protest, I was chained hand and foot to Amy and led off to one side of the camp and Ellen and Richard were led out of sight.



“What’s happening?” I asked Amy



“Jeff and I have worked for enemies of these rebels. We are now hostages or leverage for concessions. They split me and Richard up so that they don’t have to explain everything twice and so that they don’t have to go through interpreters. Get comfortable we are going to be here a while.”



We were led to a large tent. We were unchained but could make no move as several AK 47′s were aimed at our stomachs. Were were ordered to empty our pockets then I heard something shouted in Spanish.



“Take off your clothes,” said Amy “We’ve been ordered to strip.”



I had always wanted to see Amy naked. She is a knockout. Five six, long brown hair, long shapely legs, Ample bust and a cute face. Her jaw is a bit large but it does not distract from her beauty. To be honest I chose Ellen over Amy the night of that dance because I liked her legs better. Amy is an inch shorter but is just as beautiful. Her auburn hair cascades around an angelic face. Her shapely legs lead to a flat tummy and smaller but perky breasts. To be honest both are stunners.



I shed my clothes. I write here that I was a gentleman and averted my eyes from the nakedness of my best friend’s wife. Let’s let that little fiction stand. I learned about the birthmark on her right buttocks and the style of her bush from a friend. Yeah we’ll go with that. If its any consolation I caught Amy gazing at my junk more than once.



Amy translated as the Farc bigwig spoke.



“You are prisoners of war. The undeclared war between the United States and Farc. You will be treated as such and be held until your government accedes to our demands or pays your ransom.”



The man then focused on Amy



“You and your husband are the worse kind of imperialist scum.” Then he spat at her.



While we were still naked Amy and I were chained together. Handcuffs and leg fetter. The rebels produced some clothing. Each of us received a simple pair of pajama pants and a shirt. There were velcro fasteners down one side so that they could be put on and removed over our chains. We were also given moccasins for our feet. A short rebel with bad breath dressed Amy and myself. We were then frog marched to a small tent and chained to a ring in a large concrete block. It was easily half a ton.



“Well Richard it looks like we are going to get very cozy. It will be several days at least before the fact of our captivity reaches Washington. D.C. Neither the government nor Jeff and my firn negotiates with terrorists which is what they consider Farc. Jeff and I are too important to just let rot however. But it may be a month or more before the Navy Seals can locate, sneak in and rescue us. Not quite the vacation we promised you is it?”



“What’s happening to Jeff and Ellen” I asked Amy.



“Obviously they are chained up elsewhere in the camp. Its a simple tactical move to keep us separated . That way IF there IS a raid, the rebels will probably be awakened before both sets of hostages are freed and they would be able to retain one set of prisoners.”



“I’m not sure that I like the idea of Ellen and Jeff chained up together.”



“Neither do I said Amy. I NEVER liked the way my husband looked at your wife. There is nothing we can do about it however I expect that we are going to come to know every pore of each others flesh in a short time as well. I don’t think they will take off these chains if we have to go to the bathroom for example.



A guard entered out tent and Amy asked to use the bathroom in Spanish. The guard laughed and undid the padlock on the chain keeping us bound to the concrete. Hobbled together we were led at gun point to a latrine. Without ceremony our pants were opened along the velcro and removed. There were were in the open air exposed before the whole camp. This time I noticed what a beautiful pussy Amy had. In the latrine itself there was just enough give in the chains that Amy could sit down and do her business. Once she was finished We changed places. I had to take a monster dump and poor Amy had to stand there ignoring the smells and sounds. Once we were finished and out of the latrine, our pants were put back on and we were led to our tent.



While we were out of the tent some supplies had been left for us. Soap, a deck of cards, a towel, some Spanish novels, some crackers and an empty journal and some pens. Since Amy showed no interest, I began keeping a journal immediately.



Our day passed slowly. I rested my back on the concrete block and Amy snuggled next to me and fell asleep on my shoulder. I realized how lovely she is. Even without makeup she is stunning. Through a gap in the velcro snaps of her pajama top I could see her right breast. Let me tell you, Amy has some great tits. They are larger and nicer than my Ellen’s.



Late in the afternoon the rebels gave us our only meal of the day. It was a fiery concoction of rice and meat. Amy ate it with no problem. I on the other hand had to keep asking for the agua. That made our captors laugh. I understood the word “gringo” and that they were mocking me. I didn’t care. Around nightfall the rebels led us to the latrine again. There was also a small camp sink where we could brush our teeth. Still later the rebels replaced the shorter chain binding us to the cement block with a longer one so that Amy and I could lie down They provided some pillows and blankets and we turned in for the night.



I awoke in the middle of the night to find Amy wrapped about me. It felt good and looked good. Her hair was splayed out across my chest like a chestnut carpet. Gently I stroked her hair with my free hand. It felt divine. Gently I let my free hand take a tour of her sleeping form. She did not stir. Her tits were firm and perfect Her legs long and shapely. I liked what was under the pajamas as well. I felt ashamed of myself. Would I want my wife to be explored like this by Jeff?



I thought long and hard. Jeff was my best friend If there was any woman I could tolerate Ellen being with it was Jeff. He was a decent guy but I worried. Jeff had confided in me once how lucky he thought I was to be married to Ellen. I told him that he had a fine looking woman himself. Jeff replied that he KNEW that but there was something so undeniably sexy about my wife. Something that Amy didn’t have. I told him he was nuts and got his solemn oath that he would never act upon his attraction to Amy. I wondered how long that promise would withstand being chained to her, seeing her naked, and sharing bathroom trips. I got an involuntary raging hard on.



Amy took that moment to stir.



“Oh your awake. Having trouble sleeping?”



“No I’m lost in thought.”



“About what?” Amy asked



“About Ellen and Jeff for one thing.”



“I hope, sort of, that that is the reason your stiffy there.” She nodded in the direction of my penis.



“Sorry about that. Part of it is the thought of them together the other part is caused by our involuntary closeness. You are very beautiful Amy.”



“Thank you Richard. I’ve always considered you handsome … HOWEVER I am not attracted to you. You should know this. During our girls night out Ellen got really drunk one night and told me that she wanted to fuck my husband. She apologized once she sobered up but I have been very leery about leaving the two of them alone for any length of time. I shudder to think what is going on in their tent.”



Amy reached over and grabbed my penis.



“Amy!”



“Richard while I am not attracted to you I know that a man has needs. I’ll jerk you off and blow you once a day to keep your impulses under control. You won’t be the first man I have blown that I didn’t love. All I ask in exchange is that you behave as a gentleman at all times and that you do not try to make me do anymore than that. And once our captivity is over what happened during it stops and is never mentioned again. I expect that I am going to have a devil of a time getting the taint of Amy off my husband’s cock once this is over. He will mope for a while and threaten to leave me but in the end he’ll come back and beg forgiveness. He’s an overgrown boy. You are more of a man Richard. To be honest part of me wishes that I could get hot for you but you are simply not my type. No, when this is over the odd man out is Ellen, unless you want to take her back. If I were you I wouldn’t.” Then Amy freed my penis from my pajamas and without any fuss at all began jerking me off. I watched in fascination as her wedding ring slid along my cock until her hand wrapped around it and she began pumping away. Amy is supremely talented. I had just enough time to warn her before I came in torrents.



“You can’t deny that you needed that.” Said Amy as she pulled the pajama back over my rapidly deflating mast.



“if you enjoyed that just wait for my blow jobs. To be honest those are what will bring Jeff back around. I’ve seen Amy give head … I am so much better. But you’ll find out .. later”



With that Amy turned away from me the best she could and was soon once again fast asleep. Shortly thereafter I joined her in slumber, grinning from ear to ear.



The next few days blended together. We were roused at dawn, led to the latrine and then spent hours chained up awaiting our meal before the night routine of latrine and face washing and tooth brushing During all that time we did not see our spouses but we knew what tent they were in. Amy heard some of the guards refer to the “La carpa Romantico” which she translated as “the love tent.” From what Amy could deduce they were apparently fucking ALL the time.



I really didn’t care at this point because Amy was true to her word. Around noon each day she sucked me off. God is she talented! Deep thrusts and gentle tongue action. Now I know why Jeff so often had that goofy smile on his face. Best of all she swallowed. After dinner just after we were set down to bed she jerked me off. At all other times I treated her with utmost respect. I looked away when she was naked or on the pot.



Around the fifth or sixth day Amy and I were led to one side of the camp, next to a water tanker truck. A male guard stripped us and hooked a hose up to the truck. Amy and I were hosed off and washed everywhere, soap was provided then we were left to dry in the sun while our pajamas were washed and dried.



Amy seemed to have a blase attitude as the male guards eyed her up and down. She made no effort to cover herself. Despite myself and the chill of the water I got an erection. This brought out laughter and mockery from the guards. After this totally humiliating experience was over we were at last redressed and led beck to our tent.



I asked Amy “How can you just stand there and not let it bother you. They were staring at you and making comments about us. I’ve picked up enough Spanish to know that they were talking about your body.”



“It DOES bother me Richard but I am a litigator. I can’t let my opponents see any weakness in me. These men are looking for any chink in my armor. They want to humiliate me and objectify me. I won’t give them the satisfaction.”



As the days passed my respect for Amy grew and grew. To pass time in the tent she translated as she read from one of the novels. It was a rather spicy story and Amy conjectured that it had once belonged to a guard as some of the spiciest passages were underlined. We also played cards but that soon lost interest as Amy regularly stomped me in every game we played no matter the card game. She called me the worst poker player in the world.



I offered Amy oral sex but she turned me down.



“I’m sorry Jeff only men who get me hot get to kiss my pussy. As I said you’re handsome but NOT my type”



When I explained that I felt guilty getting all of the release she replied.



“It is far better that you be mellowed and in control rather than pent up and demanding something I have no desire to give. You could easily overpower me Richard but you won’t so long as you are sucked and jerked. I’m nothing if not a practical woman.”



Although I had intended to make an entry every day in my journal I had lost track of days almost immediately. Amy had a better sense of time we estimated that a month and a half had gone by. The night we figured was our 36th or 37th we we awakened by gunshots. Bleary eyed we awoke I spied a Navy seal in our tent. He motioned us to remain silent a moment later another seal appeared and began working on the chain holding us fast to the cement block and to each other. Amid gunfire, smoke bombs and search lights we were led to a Navy helicopter. Jeff and Ellen were already aboard, kissing deeply, Moments later we were choppering away to an American base in Columbia.



The next week was one of endless interviews with the state department. U.S. officials and Columbian officials. One long boring meeting after another. The military put Ellen and I in one hotel room and Jeff and Amy in another.



“So Ellen,” I asked one night, “What happened while you and Jeff were alone.”



“Oh nothing much.”



“What about that kiss in the helicopter?”



“we were just overcome with the emotion of the moment.”



She changed her tune when I found a pregnancy test kit in the trash. It was positive.



Ellen confessed everything, how she had always been attracted to Jeff and that when they were thrown together she discovered that he felt the same way about her and one thing led to another. She was crying into my chest begging forgiveness. I responded with stone cold silence.



As always Amy was right. She had gotten a confession out of Jeff the first night. He whined and insisted that he and Ellen were “destined” to be together Amy explained why that was not the case. She told Jeff that he was a lousy husband but that despite everything she still loved and needed him. A few days and more than a few blow jobs later Jeff was his old self again and my wife was just a pleasant memory to him.



I still see Ellen from time to time, Her son looks just like Jeff. Amy set up a very nice settlement for Ellen. Money and a new flower shop in another town Among the terms were she had to leave town and promise to not seek any money beyond that agreed upon. I helped her set up house and store and once in a while she will invite me to dinner. But I am seeing a very nice woman now. She has never met and never will meet Jeff.



The End

The trek through the woods seemed like the perfect way to spend the week. Frank had worked like a madman for the last six months since earning his promotion. Debbie missed him intensely for most of that time and had to pull double duty at home. She not only kept the home running she also had to do the major chores around the house as Frank was getting established in his new position. It had been a hard half year. Now however, Frank was able to take some vacation. Debbie suggested that they take the extended hike so that the two of them could commune with nature, decompress, and hear each other think and talk. Frank was three years older than his wife. At 33 and 30 they were the local power couple.



Debbie was looking forward to a week in the deep woods. They would share the small tent and catch up on all the sex that they had had to put off over the months. Debbie loved Frank intensely. He was six foot one with rugged good looks. He had not had much time to work out over the last half a year so he could afford to drop at least ten pounds but he was a powerfully built man. His strawberry blond hair and blue eyes set off his dazzling smile. Debbie was quite the package herself. Tall, like her husband, she stood five seven and had long brown hair, a heart shaped face and bowed lips. Her legs were long and tapered. Her weight was ideal. Her eyes were sparkling blue. She did not like her breasts, however. They were large enough to keep her from getting modeling jobs when she was in college.



While she got occasional work for photographers she wanted to do catwalk work. However, more than one modeling agent said her tits were too big, that she would attract attention to herself and detract from the dresses she was wearing. For revenge she had become a purchaser for a major woman’s wear store. She attended fashion shows several times a year and made it clear that she wanted models that looked more like real women at those shows. “No bags of antlers, no flat chests” was her dictum. She had the power to see her wishes implemented.



Debbie put the trip together. They would drive to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia and take a ten day hike along the Appalachian Trail. After the ten days were over they would rent a car return to Harper’s Ferry and schedule a night in a luxury hotel before they drove home. It was a perfect plan.



Frank would carry the portable tent, his sleeping bad and most of the food. Debbie would carry her sleeping bag the portable stove and their clothes. They were not taking too many clothes but Debbie thought that the togetherness and shared time together would more than make up for any body odor and inconvenience. They expected that there would be places they could leave the trail and get cleaned up.



Things went smoothly for the first four days. Debbie and Frank set up the tent at night. The weather was mostly wonderful with only one brief shower delaying them at one point. Frank and Debbie made love often. Sometimes in open fields on just a blanket. They were having a wonderful time and Debbie was very proud of herself for coming up with the idea,



On the fifth morning however things were different. After hiking for a while Frank announced glumly that “The GPS is dead.”



“Are you sure, Frank? Asked Debbie.



“Positive, I can’t get a spark out of it. It’s not the batteries either because every new set of batteries results in the same thing – a blank screen.”



“What can we do? Do we have a map?”



“We DID d have map but you spilled hot chocolate on it two nights ago, remember?”



“What can we do?”



“The cell phones can’t get a signal either. We must have gone off the trail at some point. Keep your eye out for trail markings.”



Frank assured them that if they hiked in the direction he indicated they would be sure to reach the trail and civilization. Hours later there was no sign of either.



“Well Princess it looks like we are fucked royally,” Frank said at last.



Just then Debbie’s nose detected the aroma of burning wood. Shortly thereafter in a small valley they saw a cabin with smoke emanating from its chimney!



“I hope that they have a phone!” Said Debbie



“At the very least they can tell us where we are and how to get back on the trail. My vote however is for finding the nearest Wal-mart and buying a new GPS AND a spare!” Said Frank.



When the couple were ten feet from the cabin they heard a rifle shot and the order, “Freeze!”



Frank and Bonnie noticed the rifle barrel protruding from one window. The front door of the cabin opened and a man with another rifle stood and leveled the weapon at them!



“Please sir, friend,” said Frank, “We mean you no harm. We are a lost couple who need directions that’s all.”



The man at the door of the cabin looked about 45 he was much bigger than Frank and had a sour expression on his bearded face.



“It appears to me that you are trespassers and should be treated accordingly.” The man spat in return



“We’ll just go back the way we came.” Frank said calmly.



Frank and Debbie began inching backwards and met a rifle barrel. So focused on the aggressive looking mountain man in the doorway of the cabin neither Debbie nor Frank noticed that the owner of the rifle from the window had made his way out of the cabin and placed himself behind Frank and Bonnie.



Upon seeing the rifle, Frank and Bonnie turned to see a thin rangy figure. He seemed to be either in his late teens or early adulthood, The countenance of the two faces were strikingly similar.



“Father and son” Frank concluded instantly.



The youth said “Get your hands up and head for the cabin. Try to make a break for it and I will give you both barrels and Pa will do the same to your lady friend.”



All Frank had on him were a couple of knives and those were in his backpack. Knowing that he did not want to enter that cabin and sure as hell did not want Debbie in there, Frank tried tuning on the charm.



“No need for that, young man, we will be on our way. We don’t want any trouble.”



“You may not have been looking for it, but you have found it.” said the old man.



“Please let us go, ” said Debbie, “We’re no threat to you.”



The next thing Debbie knew she heard Frank scream. He collapsed next to her only then did she see the knife protruding from the back of his knee.



The old man laughed and said, “Well stranger, you better let us check that wound for you.”



The rifle barrel placed firmly in the small of her back, Debbie was not even able to bend over and give her husband assistance.



“Head for the cabin,” Said the youth, “Or you will watch your boyfriend’s head get blown clean off.”



Trepidation deep in her heart, Debbie made the few short steps to the cabin, Before she realized what was happening her pack had been torn off, a rope was thrown around her waist and arms, her legs were bound and she was set down on a stool.



From her vantage point she saw her two abductors approach her prostrate husband. The pack was removed from his back. He was gagged and dragged back to the cabin by the two men. When Frank resisted, he was smacked several times by a rifle butt. It opened a nasty gash on his head. In no time he was trussed up and set down in chair opposite Debbie his head wound was issuing a lot of blood. He seemed dazed as Debbie was sure that he was.



“Your boyfriend thought that he was acting all smart and brave. In actuality he was stupid and arrogant.” Said the old man.



The youth exited the cabin and retrieved Frank’s backpack. They shut the door.



The older man approached Debbie. “Now who are you and what are you doing on my land?”



“Please let me take care of my husband.” begged Debbie.



“He’s in no danger at present. Now I don’t like repeating myself. Who the fuck are you and what are you doing on my land?”



“I’m Debbie Phelps and this is my husband Frank. We were hiking the trail and got lost. We only approached your cabin to ask for directions. That is the truth!”



“So You’re hiker’s and no one knows you are here. A man doesn’t find himself in this situation everyday.” said the older man.



He walked over to Frank. In his dazed state Frank offered no resistance as he was laid out on the floor.



“Get my bag boy.”



A short time later the youth returned with a medical bag.



“It is to your husband’s good fortune that I was a medic in the army.”



Debbie watched, grateful despite herself, as the man cut away Frank’s jeans leg and removed the knife from the back of his knee. The bleeding was considerable but in no time the man had cleaned the wound and applied sutures to his gash. Then the man closed the wound on Frank’s head.



“He’s got a concussion and will be out of it for quite a while. That gives the three of us time to get acquainted.”



“She’s very pretty, Pa” Said the man’s son.



“Well Mrs. Debbie Phelps this is my son Roger, you can call me Clyde. You don’t need to know our last names. I can tell by the way that you have reacted to your husband’s treatment that you must love him a great deal. That suits our purposes nicely,”



Debbie, having a very nasty feeling creep along her spine said, “What do you mean?”



“You see Mrs Phelps right now your husband will be OK in a few hours. Oh he’ll hobble around a bit on his leg and he will have a powerful headache, but there is no reason that the two of you can’t leave here under your own power.” As he was speaking Clyde rolled up one of Frank’s sleeves. “Unless …”



“Unless what?” asked Debbie



“Very simple Mrs Phelps. It is to your husband’s good fortune that I was a medic in the army. It is also to your husband’s considerable misfortune that I was a medic in the army.”



Clyde brought an IV out of his medical bag and inserted it in a vein of her husband’s arm.



“You may think this serves a medical purpose. Its saline solution and harmless except that I MAY take this hypodermic needle and introduce some air into the IV line. It will produce an embolism. In a very short time your husband WOULD be dead … Unless…”



Debbie knew at once what the mountaineer was hinting about.



“Oh my God!” She said.



” I see that we are on the same page.” Said Clyde. “Its been a while since I enjoyed female companionship and Roger is 19 and has yet to be introduced to the glories of the flesh. As a married woman you are like a loaf of grocery store bread. No one will notice if a few slices are missing. Entertain us and once your husband recovers we will lead you back to the trail and we each go on our merry way. I have no fear of you summoning the police for you haven’t a clue as to where you are. If we blindfold you and lead you back to the trail you will still be miles from help. City folk, for I recognized you right off as city folk, can’t navigate for shit in the woods. You couldn’t find your way back to us with a bloodhound and a team of forest rangers.”



Debbie contemplated the enormity of her situation. At last she was able to speak. “How do I know that you won’t kill us anyway?”



“Lady if I was going to kill you I would have already slit your husband’s throat and taken what I want. I had my fill of killing in the army, Oh maiming is one thing but I’m no murderer. I try to be an example to my son. Why take through violence and death that which you can obtain through peaceful means and negotiation. We both know what is going to occur, we are just in the negotiations phase. The fact that I have treated your husband shows that I’m not a ruthless killer. I’m a memorable man in the sack. I want to send you away with memories you will reflect upon and smile about for the rest of your life. If I kill you I don’t have that satisfaction, neither would I have the pleasure of knowing that by entering you, I will be inside your husband’s head for as long as he lives. What’s simple murder compared to that?”



Debbie looked at the man, He was imposing and there was a hardness about his face. He had an assured look on his face, as though nothing he had just said could be contradicted. It was almost a smirk. Debbie wondered if the beard hid a scar or if he wore it simply because of how intimidating it made him look, The boy was thinner and shorter but obviously muscular. He could not be more than 19, She wondered how long the two of them had been living in this rustic cabin She hadn’t even noticed a car or truck anywhere as she and Frank had surveyed the cabin. It was located in a valley with towering trees all about it. Its probably also invisible from the air. Debbie realized that her only hope at salvation, and the only chance Frank had for life were if she became very familiar with these men. Like a mouse in a trap she knew that she was caught.



Debbie reached for all of her inner strength and resolve.



At last she broke her silence. “I will give you what you want. But one at a time.”



The mountain man’s visage briefly wore a grin before he said. “Of course darlin’ It unseemly for a father and son to share a woman at the same time.”



The older man said, “Roger, you best check our guest for ticks. We don’t want her to get Lime disease now do we?”



“No Pa.” said the youth. He strode up to the stool where Debbie sat and unfastened the rope that bound her. Debbie moved her arms and legs to restore circulation.



“Ticks can get everywhere,” said the boy an excited hitch in his voice, “The best way to check for ticks is to check every inch of skin.”



The boy bent down and began untying and unlacing Debbie’s hiking boots. With dread Debbie allowed the young man to raise each foot and extract her boots in turn. Then he slowly removed Debbie’s socks.



When he saw the bright pink nail polish on her toes Roger said “Gee Pa, a painted lady!”



After separating and inspecting between each toe, Roger ordered Debbie to stand. She did. He unzipped and took off her spring jacket. The jacket had hidden her considerable bust from view but now it was obvious. Debbie saw Clyde do a double take and Roger let out a low whistle.



In a moment Roger’s trembling hands were working on the buttons of Debbie’s blouse. Slowly yet deliberately Debbie’s flat toned stomach and white lacy brassier were exposed. To Debbie it felt like an eternity until Roger slid the garment off her arms to join her coat and socks upon the floor. This was worse than if they had simply ordered her to strip, thought Debbie to herself in horror.



Roger seemed to take his tick hunting duties seriously as he inspected every inch of Debbie’s bare flesh. He even had her raise her arms over her head so that he could examine her armpits,



“I found one!” he said. His father gave him some tweezers and some oil and Roger removed a tick from Debbie’s underarm.



Next Roger moved on to Debbie’s jeans, He unhooked her belt unclasped and unzipped the pants. Slowly he lowered them until Debbie was able to step out of them. Underneath the jeans Debbie wore a sheer pair of skimpy white panties. Her full bush was clearly visible through the materiel. Roger eyed every inch of Debbie’s long legs. Her reached for Debbie’s bra next but the mystery of how to unclasp it was lost on the sexual neophyte. After struggling for many minutes Clyde stepped forward and said



“Here’s how you open these things, son.”



With a practised hand the father unhooked the bra, His touch was electric on Debbie’s skin. With appalling realization the wife knew that she had very little to worry about from the son but that the father was far more dangerous than she even supposed.



Roger pulled away the brassier and Debbie’s hands instinctively sought to cover herself.



“We’ll have none of that Clyde said, put your hands at your sides.” he ordered.



Debbie’s breasts were magnificent. Each was capped with a pink nipple the size of a pencil eraser amid light brown areolae; the kind that men’s magazine publishers built their empires upon. Despite her humiliation Debbie noticed the erections in the pants of both father and son. She could not tell exactly but the father seemed to be positively enormous.



Roger was amazed by Debbie’s breasts. He had never so much as copped a field before and now he was presented with world class breasts. He seemed mesmerized as he felt up Debbie. After some initial hesitation he began licking and suckling her breasts. Debbie was not sure how to react. Part of her was able to departmentalize what was happening to her. Under ordinary situations, if she had been the one seducing Roger, his actions would be harmless and sweet and a bit flattering, This was NOT that situation however.



It seemed like Roger played with her breasts for at least a half hour before his hands settled on the waistband of her panties. Roger gasped as Debbie’s bush was fully revealed.



“Look Pa! Lady fur!”



“Ticks like to hide in that son, as you well know. Take a good look, run your hands through it make sure there are no ticks hiding there.”



With due diligence Roger felt up Debbie’s nether regions To her horror, Roger found several ticks, He took a flash light in one hand and gently pried the insects from Debbie’s crotch with a tweezers in his other hand. In curiosity Roger’s fingers explored inside of Debbie’s sex and ass hole. It was the most ham-handed pawing Debbie had ever experienced. Even the most naive school boy she had seduced in high school had a better idea of what to do with a woman. Debbie realized that she must be the first woman the lad had ever seen naked. It was unlikely that the cabin had an internet connection. “Unless his father has a supply of magazines, I’m the first woman in his life.” Debbie thought to herself. Instantly she had pity for the boy. Living here was no doubt his father’s idea not his.



After that Roger ran his fingers through her long brown hair. He discovered on tick behind her left ear which he gently removed. He turned to his father and said. “I found all the ticks Pa!”



“Very good, Roger”, Said Clyde “Now this nice woman is going to help you become a man. Remember those talks we have had?”



“You mean about the bucks and the does?”



“Yes.” Clyde eyed Debbie with intensity. “This woman is a very experienced doe. She is going to lead you to your room and make a proud buck out of you. I will watch to make sure she does it right.”



“Oh boy! Pa can we keep her?”



“I’d like to son but we have an agreement to let her and her boy go. Don’t worry there will be other does. I will make sure of it.”



Roger began pulling Debbie toward a side room in the cabin. Knowing that resistance would get Frank killed Debbie allowed herself to be pulled along. It was a small room with a single bed, There were a few books and fewer toys. There were however several sets of antlers mounted on the wall. There was portrait of a pale,wan woman in a frame on the night stand, Debbie knew instinctively that she was the boy’s mother.



The father followed close behind and loomed in the doorway of the bedroom like a talisman of evil.



Debbie was especially grateful that she was on the pill. Condoms did not seem to be a lifestyle choice of these back woodsmen.



With the father looming, Debbie knew that she could not simply placate Roger with a hand job or a blow job. Although the boy would not know the difference, Debbie knew without qualification that the father would accept nothing less for his son than full penetration and orgasm.



Taking the initiative she began undressing the boy. Beneath his clothes he was firmly muscled with ab definition. His legs and buttocks were strong and powerful. In contrast to the father, the son was much better looking, Debbie could see the woman in the bedside portrait in his features. At last he was down to his underwear beneath that was a respectably sized uncut penis.



Thinking back to the virgins Debbie had deflowered, she found herself on familiar territory. Debbie liked the fact that she was first in so many mens’ lives. She knew that every subsequent lover, girlfriend, and wife would be compared to her and often come up lacking,

Leslie missed teaching high school, but one benefit of working at the Castle Harbor Recreation Center was the hours. Teachers had lovely long vacations, but damn little flexibility when working. A personal trainer at the Rec Center scheduled her own appointments, and Leslie made her Saturday appointments early—starting at 7:00 a.m., sharp, long before Guy even thought about getting up. He had told her that morning, as so often before: “When I was in the Marines, I promised myself that when I got out I would get enough sleep—for the rest of my life.”



“But I do get enough sleep,” Leslie had said, even as she rolled to sit up on the edge of the bed. Guy immediately had rolled toward her and thrown an arm around her waist, tilting her back onto the bed. He cupped a hand over each perfect hillock of her breasts, which rose on her chest round, firm, and deeply tanned. Beneath his palms he had felt her nipples tighten. For a trim, athletic woman, with compact breasts, she had outlandishly large nipples, suitable to breasts three times the size of hers.



For a long time, they had embarrassed Leslie, but as she and Guy had progressed in their “Second Honeymoon”–the madly erotic, promiscuous, no-holds-barred sex life that had begun with joining the secret “Dark Knights”–she had realized both that men were aroused by her dark, over-sized, permanently puffy tits and turned on, as well, because they sensed she was embarrassed to have them seen. And she was, but, as she had told Guy, “Well, my mega-boobed sisters in this world may be a little shy about how men go gaga over their size, but they sure make the most of it.”



And so did Leslie. When she stripped, she liked to turn away from men to slip off her brassiere, then turn back with her hands cupped over her tits, her eyes downcast—the whole show. Then, she would slip away her hands, reluctantly, and say something like, “Well, I guess I can’t spend my whole life with my hands over my titties, can I?”



From then on, most men couldn’t stop staring, catching her eye once in awhile and grinning because she looked sheepish. By then, the soft flesh usually had become as rough as dark sand ribbed by the wind and pouted upward as though she were trying to hitch a ride with her nipples. Elongated a good half inch, they seemed to announce: Turned-on Bitch. And that did still embarrass Leslie.



And so, naturally, Guy never failed to fondle her until the pert, arrogant little thumbs were at maximal extension. Now, Leslie moaned and grabbed his hands. “Oh, don’t! You know we don’t have time, and they’ll be sticking out all morning.”



He still moved his hands slightly, rolling the rubbery stubs, as Leslie tried to loosen his grip. “You mean through your sports bra and everything?” he asked.



“Yes!” she said, struggling to sit up. “Stop!” But it was no use fighting Guy’s strength. “Oh, all right,” she had sighed, and rolled over on her stomach. Her face came down over his belly, her fingers parting the dark, curly hair and took hold of his penis. In a moment, she had popped it into her mouth; Guy’s head fell back on the pillow and he sighed.



Leslie ran her finger tips over his scrotum, stroking the hair, and then, with two fingers, pushed down the flesh around the base of penis, so that it was forced to rear up, stiffening. Her tongue was circling beneath its plump head, already slick with pre-cum.



Then, abruptly, she flipped over, rolling to sit up, and bounded from the bed. “Hey!” Guy yelled, sitting up.



“Fair is fair,” she called. “You have a big stiff dick all morning and I have titties jutting out for all my clients to giggle at.”



He had had leaped up from the bed, but she already was in the bathroom. He heard the lock turn. Her voice called, sweetly, “I told you we didn’t have time.”



“Just wait, bitch!”



Now, as Leslie drove home from the Rec Center, the afternoon was still young, a late October day when Long Island woods flashed in the sun as yellow and red and warmly luscious against the blue sky as in any part of southern New England, which lay just across the Sound, after all. She could do five or six clients—or trainees? Or what?—before 2:00 p.m. and have long Saturday afternoons. And an extra $400 or so above what she made during the week.



The famous village of Castle Harbor with its white churches, ancient arching elms, and pre-Colonial-era houses—not to mention its line-up of high-fashion stores that had displaced so many hardwares, delis, smoke shops, and family groceries on Main Street and Old Town Lane—had seemed so quaintly perfect—and so perfectly dull, especially in the winter—just a year ago. Now, it all had, for Leslie, a smoldering tension like Dodge City or Tombstone, except the tension was sexual. Since she and Guy had joined the super-secret Dark Knights, where S&M and bondage and rape fantasies kept threatening to consume their devotees—like some religion of ecstatic sacrificial rituals—the fire of sexual excess had kept spreading. An early sacrifice had been her career as a teacher; she was not going to trash a record of devotion to students by being fired in disgrace if her private life became known. She had resigned clean and with her reputation intact.



But the strict secrecy of the Dark Knights could not contain the centripetal force of lust that had been ignited in her marriage. There was the passion for Leslie conceived by the quiet, stunning high-school librarian, Delores Gaitley, introduced into the Dark Knights by her husband, Hugh, still the high-school principal. And then the bizarre attempt by the head of the school board, Marlene Owen, to blackmail Leslie—an escapade in which Marlene involved her daughter, Betsy, and Betsy’s boyfriend, Victor. All of it ended with them exposed—literally and completely, their mortified reluctance giving way with dizzying speed to engulfing sexual fantasy and abandon. And so the “secret” kept spreading and now, it seemed to Leslie, threatened to metastasize beyond remediation.



What had happened at the Rec Center a few evenings ago–after closing, with only employees left to shower and lock up—would have had Leslie, just a year ago, screaming over the phone to Guy and three police cars screeching into the parking lot. But she had said nothing to him, the night it happened, and still wondered what to say—and when. Perhaps today…



She parked in their driveway, wondering at a car already there that she did not recognize. She walked around the side of the house toward the long, private backyard that swept downhill to their garden and, beyond, to the woods. Already, she could see over the tops of trees that began where the yard ended, see the quarter mile or so to where the bay stretched off, serene and sparkling under the autumn sun, toward the North Fork of Long Island. They had a lot of privacy, here: no houses in view in any direction—although that was partly because of thick woods.



Soon it would be winter, the oaks and sassafras dropping their last leaves, the dark pines more prominent. The chill in the air was distinct, today; Leslie was glad for her windbreaker in spite of the friendly sun.



She halted abruptly, her head slightly forward as though with the thrust of some unspoken exclamation. What the hell…



It was a completely naked woman, a young woman by the look of her slender body and skin pale and lovely in the sun, but Leslie could not be sure. Because the head was the head of a grotesque bird, striped black and white, with a down-curving beak, the eyes dark and empty. The woman-bird knelt on the small deck at the top of the backstairs, a slender arm tied to the railing of either side. The thing’s head with its great beak was bent far forward, as though trying to see the naked white breasts, large and full, but, with the body bent, pushed forward and squeezed, the pink nipples squashed forward.



Leslie was running toward the stairs. All she could think to say was “Hey!” She had no fear, not what she would have felt a year ago. This was just some craziness, more craziness that was her life, now. At the same time, she felt the first hint of heat between her legs, the tensing of arousal at the pale, helpless body, the degradation of the mask—one of the many she and Guy had loved and bought in Florence—and the lovely, exposed breasts, the kneeling in submission on the hard wood. As she neared, the bird looked up. Leslie began, “Are you…?”



And then, she was up the steps, and gasped: “It’s freezing out here!” She reached down and felt the tender breasts. “You’re frigid! Who did…?” Then she said, “Betsy?”



The bird looked up, and said, with a laugh, “You recognized the Owen boobies! Good for you! Am I all goose bumps and ice-cube nips?” Leslie was bent over, struggling with the knots.



“Who did this?” she demanded.



The bird looked up. “Oh, you know…just Mr. O’Brien…”



“I think you can call him ‘Guy,’” snapped Leslie. “He fucked you on our kitchen table!”



“Oh, I’m so sorry…”



“Betsy, no!” said Leslie, abandoning the knots and kneeling. She put her arms around Betsy, felt the chill flesh against her. “What the hell was that evening about but… Oh, but you’re freezing!”



“Well, Victor and I sort of dropped in. I mean, not quite. Cell phone from the car. And Mr. O’Brien…Guy…said ‘Sure.’ I mean, ever since that night, here… Victor was devastated, at first. You know, his balls and all of us with dildos…his ass…But now…”



Leslie had finessed the knots. She took Betsy’s arm and drew her up. Betsy stood for a moment with her arms hugging her breasts. She said, hesitantly, “Now, I wonder if Victor will ever be interested in plain old… It used to be like he couldn’t wait to get me in bed…”



Leslie carefully lifted off the mask. The face was beautiful, but even more striking than beautiful. It had the strong, sure bones, the almost masculine strength of her mother’s face in the cheekbones, the jaw. But the eyes were big and light blue, the lips almost too full. It was a Norse beauty, to go with the statuesque figure. Leslie nodded slowly. She said, “It’s too early for that, Betsy. You’ve barely started. Guy and I…well, we were trying to revive something. But you and Victor are just discovering each other. Why don’t you forget about what happened the other night?”



Betsy did not look at her. She seemed to be scrutinizing the band of blue that was the bay beyond the trees. She said, “If it isn’t too late, maybe…”



Leslie threw her arms around her. “Come in, come in!” She hauled her toward the door. “Those idiots…”



“What the hell is this about?” Guy and Victor, in chairs facing one another in front of a good fire, turned to look at her when she spoke. “She’s freezing out there!” snapped Leslie.



“Hey, Leslie,” called Guy, with a wave. Victor quickly stood up. “Hello, Mrs. O’Brien. I think that…”



Betsy and Victor had been students in Leslie’s junior-year high-school English class, Betsy an ace student and talented writer, who was now starting her senior year at Columbia University, already on a steep trajectory toward initial success as a writer. Victor had done much better at varsity sports than English papers and now was working on the commercial fishing boats that still plied the waters off the East End. That kept Betsy coming commuting back to Castle Harbor most weekends.



“How long has she been tied out there?” Leslie demanded.



Victor glanced down, as though to check his watch, but did not look up again.



Guy said, “Look, Leslie…”



“How long?”



“Maybe an hour…” said Guy.



“You know what?” interrupted Leslie, irritably. “I don’t even want to hear about what the game was.” She turned to Betsy. “Come here,” she ordered. “I’ve got to warm you up.”



Betsy came forward obediently, as though she had forgotten that she was naked. Leslie took her arm and led her to the thick fur rug spread before the fire. Putting her hands on Betsy’s shoulders, she firmly pushed her down.



She turned to Guy and Victor. “Sit down!” she snapped. “You don’t have anything to do with this. You don’t get anything.”



Betsy had lowered herself onto the rug. Standing above her, Leslie jerked her tight black jersey over her head and fired it onto a chair. She seized her sports brassiere and yanked it up over her head so abruptly that her breasts bounced. She bent over and shoved down her tights, kicked them off. She turned to them: “Sit down! I’m going to warm her up. This has nothing to do with you!”



Almost contemptuously, she pushed down her thong. Her long, slender legs ended in a thick, untrimmed, dark-brown triangle. Her body was a lean, compact flow of muscles, tight thighs flowing into a flat belly, the contours of her abdomen, the uplifted breasts with their brazen nipples, broad shoulders… She had the pretty face of the outdoor girl, with pixie hair, over-sized brown eyes, firm and serious lips.



She knelt, now, between Betsy’s feet and gently pushed her back, onto the fur. Betsy let herself fall, sighing, the fire casting dancing rays and flickering lights over her full, sedate breasts and her rounded thighs with the triangle of light blond hair between them. She closed her eyes. At first, she had begun to cross her arms over her breasts, protectively, but caught herself and let her arms lie by her sides.



Leslie’s dark body slid forward over Betsy. There was a pause as Leslie aligned her fat, full nipples to the soft pink circles that topped Betsy’s big breasts. Then Leslie lowered her chest carefully to cover Betsy’s nipples with her own. “My titties are kissing your titties,” said Leslie softly. “All yours,” breathed Betsy. Her eyelids flickered, the perfect face was still, serene.



Now, Leslie lowered her lips to Betsy’s. When Betsy felt the first tickling touch, she started, but then relaxed deliberately, her full pink lips widening into a little smile. At first, the lips stayed firm as Leslie’s lips explored them. Then Leslie’s dark, mobile lips were teasing, pulling, crushing…and slowly Betsy’s lips opened and responded. The lips sought each other, searching, and then came together, locked, and the tongues were darting, invading… Betsy moaned very softly.



Her hips moved ever so slowly, grinding beneath Leslie’s. Betsy’s hands came up, tentatively at first, to on Leslie lean back. Then, as the kiss went on, the hands traveled down to Leslie’s tight buttocks, seizing the cheeks, squeezing, kneading, as the two bodies squirmed together before the fire.



Finally, Leslie drew away her lips, with a gasp, her face rigid with lust. Her head moved down on Betsy’s body, the lips sampling Betsy’s nipples, then the hollow of her lean belly. Suddenly, Leslie heaved to her knees. She grabbed the rug with both hands and yanked sideways, so that Betsy was turned with her thighs open toward the two men. She lifted the slender thighs back, open and back.



Guy and Victor leaned forward, on Guy’s face a half smile, on Victor’s a look of disbelief, his gaze intense. Betsy let her thighs loll wide until her damp blond bush had parted so the wet pink flesh was on display.



Leslie lay half over Betsy’s leg, so as not to block the view of the two men. She put two fingers on either side of Betsy’s swelling clitoris and pressed, pushing back the cowl of flesh so that Betsy’s little nubbin of clitoris shyly butted forward.



As though weary, Leslie let her cheek rest on Betsy’s belly, against the cushion of blond hair, and her tongue came out until it touched the unprotected clit. She wiggled her tongue against it, flicking, pushing, circling. Betsy’s hips were now beginning to jerk, her big buttocks churning. Her breath came quicker, rasping, and the shameless hips were heaving her pubis against Leslie’s tongue. Leslie maintained the leisurely pace, lazily tormenting the swollen pink button that seemed to pulse and throb.



Guy slid off the chair onto his knees.



“Sit back!” Leslie snapped. “I’m warming her up! All you idiots could think of was putting her outside!”



“Do it,” murmured Betsy, her voice shaking. “Just do it, okay?”



Still, Leslie tongue dallied over the slickness, circling the offered clit.



“I need it!” said Betsy crossly, heaving her sweat-dark pussy into Leslie’s face.



Leslie lazily reached up and pushed two fingers into Betsy’s vagina. She began to curl the fingers, dragging against the roof of Betsy’s pussy.



“Oh, shit, yes, my fucking cunt!” It was almost a sob. Betsy was throwing her hips wildly, now. Her face was contorted, lips curled back.



Suddenly, her hand clapped down on Leslie’s head, jamming it. “Do it harder! Come on, you bitch! Do me!” She was mashing Leslie’s face down, angrily, impatiently. “Do me, bitch!”



Suddenly, Leslie lips locked on the fattened button, sucking hard, her tongue lashing the swollen hillock of flesh. At the same time, her hand shot in and out of Betsy’s pussy, reaming it.



Oh, fuck the shit out of me!” It was like a long sob. Betsy’s mouth was open as though to scream. And she did, a long protest against the monstrous pleasure, “No, no, no, no, no…”



Then she violently shoved Leslie’s face away, and, at the same time, heaved over onto her side, her thighs jacked up into the fetal position. And still she murmured, “No, no, no…” panting like a runner.



“Jesus!” breathed Victor. He glanced over at Guy, then looked away, quickly. Guy had slumped in the chair, pushing down his trousers and underwear. His penis was standing straight up, dark in the firelight. He was rubbing his hand and up down the long rod in long, slow strokes.



Suddenly, it was Leslie’s voice. “Stop it! This is disgusting!” She had slapped away Guy’s hand. “I have other plans for you two!”



Guy looked up at her, dreamily. “There is no woman on Earth like you,” he said softly.



“Shut up!” said Leslie, standing over him, hands on hips, still completely naked. Her nipples yearned outward. Her lips twitched, as though threatening a smile.



She turned to Victor. “Get up! I just did your girlfriend for you!” When he did not move quickly enough, she grabbed his collar and dragged him up. “Both of you! Strip to the waist, now! This is no game!”



She turned, bending over Betsy, and for a moment ran two fingers along a smooth thigh. “Come on, Sweets. I think that warmed you up. We have to deal with these buffoons!” Then, she strode off toward the kitchen.



“Okay, hands behind your backs. It’s payback time.” She stalked back into room, a knife and ball of thick twine in her hands. She stood behind Guy. “You first.” Guy complied, not without a sigh, and in short order Leslie had his arms bound behind him, each wrist tied to the opposite arm so that he stood with his arms folded behind his back.



“Now you, Victor,” she said. Moments later, she ordered, “All right, into the kitchen,” and gave Victor a shove in that direction.



Victor turned to look at Guy. “She really knows her knots.” Guy nodded. “Coming from a commercial fisherman, that’s quite a compliment. Anyway, I discovered her remarkable talent with knots this summer—to my sorrow.”



“Oh,” said Victor. She had shepherded them into the kitchen. She placed them beside the table. “Okay, just stand there. Betsy and I have to have some lunch.” She started for the refrigerator. Without looking back, she said, “Betsy, get my husband’s pants off, so we can see his prick while we eat.” Then, she added, “But first, you get yourself dressed.”



“Don’t dress for us,” said Victor.



“Shut up,” said Leslie. She turned and walked back. She stood facing him. He was a good-looking young man, with a rugged face, already deeply tanned from the sun and sea. He had grown a brown beard, which he kept neatly trimmed—a choice Leslie applauded. His bare chest and arms were full and hard, though not to the extent Guy’s were; there was nothing like the Marines–a decade ago, in Guy’s case—to stress the pecs.

Now, Leslie grabbed Victor’s belt, whipped it open, unsnapped his dungarees, and then stooped, seized his pants on either side, roughly yanking down both his pants and his underwear. For a second, his freed penis bobbed up and down and its thicket of brown hair.



Leslie stood up. Victor looked a little taken aback, but far from distressed. In a second, a grin came onto his face. Leslie started to turn away, but, as she did, delivered a quick, sharp slap to his balls with the back of her hand. Victor cried out, startled, and bent over to protect himself. “And stop grinning,” said Leslie, without turning around. “This isn’t going to be fun.”



Guy looked over at Victor and said, “Here we go.”



When Betsy came back, her slim legs snugly fitted into dungarees that were so tight around her hips and butt that she might have been wearing them when they had shrunk, she halted and stared at Victor. He had straightened up, but couldn’t quite keep his legs still, as though he longed to massage his testicles. He looked at her and shrugged.



“Um, okay,” said Betsy. She knelt before Guy and carefully unbuckled his pants, pulling them gently. She hesitated for a moment, glancing up at him, then took his underwear at either side and gingerly eased it down. His thick penis was at the level of her face, arching gently toward her. It wasn’t the first time she had seen it. On the first incredible night when her mother, Marlene, and she and Victor all were the evening’s novelty—or perhaps entertainers—at a dinner party in this very house, she had been crazed after several hours of wild arousal–included stiffening two dicks then used on other women—that had not produced any orgasm for her. She finally had dragged Guy into the kitchen, shut the door, and heaved herself up on the table, naked to the waist, and demanded to be “done.” It has been the most explosive climax of her young life.



Now, Leslie was coming to the table with two plates. “Here we are Betsy,” she said. Then, she frowned at Guy and Victor and said, “You two look like little boys, standing with your pants around your ankles. Come on, finish the job—kick off your shoes and flick away your pants. We’ll handle your socks later.”



“You two are going to have to feed us, you know—bite by bite,” said Guy. “Can Betsy be my feeder?”



Leslie put down the plate and looked at him. Her eyes narrowed, for a moment, and she walked slowly around the table, toward him.



“All right, all right,” said Guy. “For Christ’s sake, run the party the way you want.”



She had come to stand directly in front of him. He looked at her nervously. He started to bend over, instinctively, to protect himself.



“I will do exactly that,” said Leslie severely, turning away as though satisfied. Then, at the last moment, the back of her hand shot out, landing exactly on target, and Guy yelled, then moaned, bending over. “Oh, my God,” murmured Betsy, staring at Guy’s bright red, contorted face.



“What do you think of them, comparatively speaking?” asked Leslie as though chatting with a girlfriend over coffee.



“You mean…”



Leslie nodded.



Betsy examined the two packages presented to her. She frowned a moment, gently biting on her lip. “Both good-sized cocks,” she said, slowly. “I think Victor already has the start of a hard-on, though, and maybe Guy’s things are shrinking back a little, right now…”



“No shit!” hissed Guy between clenched teeth.



“I don’t like the way their balls hide down between their legs, like that,” said Leslie, frowning. “They ought to have to stick right out, like our tits, for everyone to comment on…”



“I see what you mean,” said Betsy. “Sort of shrinking violets, down there, under the dick and all that hair.”



“Tell you what,” said Leslie. “Grab some twine out of that drawer”—she waved toward the kitchen. “Tie a nice tight loop down there, so their packages are on display.”



In the end, Leslie had to demonstrate, grabbing the whole handful of Victor’s penis and scrotum, right at their base, and stretching them away from his body. Then, she said, “Okay, take a couple of nice tights loops as close as you can to his belly, then make a knot.” After a moment, she added, “Not too tight. I want to see purple, not black, you know?” She added: “Ever see a woman’s boobs when they tie them really tight? Yikes, I saw one poor gal with big danglers that they tied so tight they turned almost black. Then, of course, they started to slap the shit out of the poor things! I always wonder what if they left them tied, like that.”



Betsy said, hesitantly, “I think I’ve seen that. I mean, I did check out a few S&M sites, and bondage, and all that. Why do they do so many scary things to tits? Men seem to love them.”



“Seems like men just can’t get enough of experimenting with mommy’s boobs,” said Leslie. “Everything you can think of has been done to tits.” Then, she said, “Good job. They’re really out there, aren’t they? Come sit down and eat.”



She saw Betsy glance a little anxiously at Victor. “Oh, don’t worry,” said Leslie. “You and I will cook them a lovely early dinner, if they behave. I just don’t want them to exercise on a full stomach.”



“Oh…”



“I thought a couple miles along the beach, you know? Almost no one there, this time of year, but we’ll wear masks. Just in case someone comes along.”



“Oh, my God,” muttered Victor.



“Yup,” said Guy. “She’s out of her fucking mind.”



Leslie started to get up. “Okay, okay,” said Guy, hastily. “Cool it.”



She settled back in her seat. “Let him off, this time,” she said.



Victor and Guy could deem themselves blessed, Leslie said, as the two women in shorts, warm shirts, and running shoes led the way down the sloping lawn toward the woods. The two men, completely naked, arms still bound behind them and private parts jacked up and out for public inspection, followed after—rather anxiously keeping pace, in fact, since Leslie held looped around her hand the end of a thick piece of twine that was attached, about 10 feet behind her, to the middle of another piece of twine. This piece ran, in turn, from Guy to Victor–attached on either end to the loops of twine already wrapped around the base of their penises and scrota.



Everyone in the strange procession wore a different mask, the bizarre faces of Florentine carnival—wild grins or scowls, grotesque beaks, feathers, only the eyes and mouths mere cutouts. At least, thought Guy, they could see and breathe. And if they chanced upon his employees—or customers—from Castle Harbor Security Services, with any luck no one could identify him merely by his tormented blue cock and balls. He would let Leslie do the talking, if there was any, since her mask was fitted with a mouthpiece that distorted words into a bizarre parody of a chirping bird.



They could reckon themselves fortunate, she had said, because the late October day had become unseasonably mild as the afternoon wore on—much warmer, Leslie pointed out, than when Betsy sat tied outside not even moving to keep warm. When she had pronounced the word, “moving,” Leslie had emphasized it with an angry jerk on the twine, causing Guy and Victor to yelp and hustle forward.



All right, Leslie sang out, cheerfully, as they reached the verge of the woods. Let’s pick up the pace, boys. But be careful on the path, there are lots of roots and branches; don’t want to stub a toe. And try not to take a spill, because that could cause quite a jerk on the other end of that twine, you know?



Soon, they were jogging along the velvety pine-needle path, the women with easy strides, side by side, the men doing their best to stay close to one another since the twine that connected their balls was only three feet long. “What a beautiful day,” called Leslie from the front of the procession.



“Fuck off!” Guy retorted from the rear.



“Hey,” Victor said, anxiously, “watch it…”



But he was too late. Leslie gave a sudden, violent yank on her end of the twine. Both sensitive packages stretched forward, momentarily, balls pulled foremost, bunched tight in their smooth and now distinctly blue scrota.



By the time they broke from the woods onto the beach, all four were breathing deeply, talking less to save breath. Before them, the brilliance of the sun on the 50-foot-wide bay beach forced them squint. Under the bare feet of the men, the sand was toasty warm. Guy shot glances up and down the beach, but saw no one in either direction. He wondered what the hell passers-by might conclude if they encountered two stark-naked men being led by the nuts on a jog along a public beach. “Come to Castle Harbor, where Saturday afternoons on the beach are made for love.”



The desirable privacy prevailed for about 10 minutes, while the caravan pushed along the firm strip of wet sand where the little edge of brownish foam rolled up and retreated, occasionally surprising the men with a final sprint higher that covered their feet in water chilled by the autumn nights.



Typical, thought Guy: all typical–typical of the mad fantasy that their lives had become over the past year, where anything could happen, where nothing was taboo. Although, on second thought, feeling vulnerable, right now, Guy didn’t want to find out if that proposition about “nothing taboo” was true at the extreme. He glanced over at Victor; the young man was holding well, obviously fit, breathing heavily but easily, taking comfortable strides. No doubt excited by the prospect of the next act in the play, with Leslie and Betsy thoroughly turned-on by what they had done, Victor had managed the beginnings of an erection. Ah, youth…



The reverie then collapsed. Guy glanced up and saw, a hundred yards ahead, three young men already clearly visible through the crisp air. They were coming toward them. Now what?



“Try to look your best, guys,” Leslie chirped from ahead. “Remember, you have nothing to be shy about. You both have nice big dicks and lots of sexy crotch hair.”



Victor glanced over. Naturally, Guy could not tell if the young man looked anxious; the mask presented itself blankly, as though reflective of a mind erased of ideas. But Guy noticed that the erection had actually increased. A little exhibitionist streak?



“Don’t say anything,” called Guy to him. “They won’t recognize us, unless your schlong is famous at the gym or something.”



Victor shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said. “Maybe back in the locker room with the football team…” As though to check out this idea, the mask looked down at the penis, now jouncing stiffly with each stride.



“Hi!” Leslie called, with a wave. She brought her troop to a halt. At first, the approaching men waved mechanically, scarcely looking at them. But, as they neared, they began to stare intently. They halted some distance away, as though fearful, and began talk to one another in low voices. Leslie and Betsy kept nearing them, tugging along the men.



Finally, one of the three men asked, with an uneasy laugh, “What the hell is this? Taking the stud horses around the tracks?” The others chuckling, now openly evaluating what Guy and Victor revealed.



“Oh, they’ve been misbehaving, a little,” said Leslie. “They needed to see who ran the stable.”



The men were frowning at her, trying to scrutinize the mask from which the weird voice emanated. “I’m supposed to be a bird of prey,” volunteered Leslie in the disturbing chirp. She pointed at her mouth: “A little thing in here does it. I didn’t even know you could buy a mask like this till I saw it.”



“Looks like carnival,” said one of the men.



The bird nodded assent.



“How do you like our studs?” asked Leslie brightly. She waved her hand toward where Guy and Victor stood, still breathing heavily, lightly glistening with sweat, their masks facing slightly down, as though with becoming modesty about what they could not conceal.



“I like very, very much,” said one of the other men. “VERY much. Both of them.”



“Good enough to eat,” said another of the men.



“Oh,” said Leslie. “That’s what guys sometimes say about us.” She nodded toward Betsy. “Not today, I guess.”



“Oh, you both are really cute,” said one of the men, hastily, and added: “At least as much as I can see. But we’re…” He glanced at the other two. “You know, we’re into boys.”



“Got it,” said Leslie, “sure.” She added, casually, “You’re all involved with each other, I guess?”



“Nah,” said one of the men, with a laugh. “Doesn’t work that way. Any more than guys and girls hanging out together are automatically screwing.”



“We would actually like to meet some guys, out here,” said another. “We took a house together over the summer. Now we have it weekends through Thanksgiving. Lots of gay guys out here, but less action than you would think.” He added, a little wistfully, “At least for us.”



“Well, these are out guys,” said Leslie. “Do they turn you on?”



One of the men glanced at his friends, grinned, shrugged, and said, “Well, yeah. Straight guys. Great bodies…” His laugh was almost a giggle. “Powerful advertising…”



“You can have them, if you want,” said Leslie encouragingly. “Don’t be shy!”



“What?”



Leslie wasn’t sure if Guy had said it, or one of the men, or both at once.



“No, for God’s sake,” pleaded Victor. “Please?”



“Oh, you let them talk,” said one of the men, gesturing at Victor. “Do they have any say?”



“Absolutely, not,” said Leslie firmly. “They have no say at all. And they’re tied up–but watch for my husband’s feet. He once told me he had six ways to kill a guy with just his feet.” She added, “Don’t worry, he knows he has to behave.”



The young man who seemed to speak for for the others now glanced at them. “Totally, totally weird, right?”



One of the others shrugged. “So what’s going to happen to us? I can get it up, for sure.”



The other man turned back to Leslie. “Well, okay.” He sounded as though he had been offered a sack of gold coins by a stranger in the street and couldn’t quite credit his luck.”



Guy made as though to turn back down the beach.



“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Leslie, with a tug on the twine.



She turned to the three men. “Come on, guys, strip down. You aren’t modest in front of mere women, are you?”



Hesitantly, at first, then quickly and efficiently, the three were heaving off their T-shirts and dropping their trousers and underwear. In less than a minute, three fairly handsome, well-built, but slightly disbelieving young men stood naked, facing them. One reached down unconsciously to massage himself. Betsy just stared, her mask turned to them. Guy and Victor were motionless, waiting, as though in shock, resigned, but uncertain just what was to happen.



“Only one thing,” said Leslie. She reached into a small bag slung over her shoulder. “I ALWAYS carry these.” She held up three square plastic packages. She said, “You just never know.”



“Sure,” said one of the men, easily. “Good idea,” said another.



“My friend and I can slip them on, for you,” said Leslie helpfully.



“Well,” said one of the men, hesitating and glancing down at himself, “we aren’t ready quite that fast.”



“And it wouldn’t help at all if I gave you a little hand job, to get you started?”



“Doesn’t work that way,” said one of the men sheepishly.



“Okay,” said Leslie, suddenly all-business. “Let’s get this done, okay?” She turned and walked to Guy. Nearing him, she reached out with her hand; he jumped back, but she only took his penis and gave a reassuring squeeze. She looked back at the three young men. “He really isn’t into guys, at all, but we get him raped often enough to keep him in the game.” She turned to Victor. “Sorry we don’t have any lube, but I’m sure they’ll get your asshole as wet as they can.”



She stepped behind Guy and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. At first he resisted, but she held his bound arms, stuck out her leg, and pulled him back back over it. He seemed more to let himself fall, resigned, than to trip. He lay naked on the sand, the expressionless mask looking up.



The men had approached. “Okay,” said Leslie, “get him up on her knees.” She added, “if that’s the way you want him…”



“Kneeling first,” said one of the young men politely. “If that’s okay?”



“Up,” said Leslie. She took Guy’s arm as he struggled to his knees. Leslie carefully raised his mask, but just enough to expose Guy’s mouth. A naked young man stepped forward, put his hand behind Guy’s head, and, with the other hand, lifted his penis and held it out, pushing it against Guy’s lips.



Silently, Guy opened his mouth and took the penis, already erect enough so that he had to stretch his lips wide. Standing before him, the young man began to ease his hips back and forth, slowly, thrusting and withdrawing the shaft that slid in and out of Guy’s mouth, lengthening and reddening as it did. Guy made a choking sound and pulled back his head.



Leslie already had gone to Victor. She didn’t have to trip him. He simply knelt, as though hopeless, after seeing Guy submit. Leslie adjusted his mask, and another of the men soon was feeding a rapidly swelling penis into Victor’s mouth. The bearded mouth closed around it and the rhythmical thrust began.



Leslie turned to the third one, and said, “That leaves only you, I guess. Sorry.”



“Taking turns,” said the man with an easy smile.



“Are you SURE this doesn’t do a thing?” asked Leslie. She reached out and gently took his penis in her hand. She stood close to him, so that the bird’s face was only inches from his. She began to work her hand, moving the stretchy skin up and down the shaft, rolling the head of the penis between her thumb and forefinger. The man slowly closed his eyes.



“I think your cock is stiffening a little,” said Leslie softly. “Do you want to pop it into my mouth?”



The young man slowly shook his head, sighing with pleasure. “No, that’s okay, but this is very, very nice. You have a good touch.”



“Don’t come,” said Leslie, “it’s almost your turn.”



Already, one of the other men was making a sound between a growl and a gasp. Suddenly, he snapped, “Okay, stop! Stop!”



“Down, now,” he ordered, pushing Victor. Victor obediently dropped his face to rest sideways on the sand—the best he could do with his arms tied behind him–his butt thrust up into the air.



Instantly, the young man knelt behind him. Betsy stood watching as the man’s hands parted Victor’s buttocks and the man’s head came forward, carefully letting saliva fall into Victor’s crack. Then, holding his penis, now totally erect and sheathed in the condom, he presented its fat head at Victor’s asshole.



“Here it comes,” he said, unnecessarily, and gave his hips a careful but energetic shove forward. Victor moaned, then made a quick, high-pitched noise like a squeak of surprise. “No…,” he moaned. It was a long, drawn-out, and wholly ineffective cry of protest. “No…” he whined, again.



Abruptly, Victor’s body jerked forward, as if a car hit from the rear. “No!” he yelled. And then, “No…no…no…” with each jolt. It went on for what seemed to Betsy only a minute or so, but Victor’s legs were trembling at the knees, and his breath was a squeal. Betsy never looked away, though the mask yielded no hint of her feeling.



Now, Guy was protesting, too. Betsy turned. Guy was getting it from both ends. The young man behind rhythmically slamming him forward, another in front holding up his head and pushing his pubis into Guy’s face, the penis deep in Guy’s throat. No sound but a sort urgent humming came from Guy.



Suddenly, Victor cried out, and Betsy whirled back to look. The young man behind him, approaching his ecstasy, had reached down between Victor’s legs and seized his balls in a wave of lust. He must have squeezed convulsively, because Victor was gasping and pleading “Stop! My nuts! No! My nuts!”



And then the young man was spurting, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent moan. He still held Victor’s balls.

Comments: This is the first story I’ve decided to submit and I hope its worth continuing so read through and enjoy.



Bit of violence and skin but the heavier stuff comes later in the story.




*



‘Don’t move, control your breathing, don’t wake her, please don’t wake her.



These moments of the early morning are the only shreds of freedom left, she’s taken everything else, everything they didn’t beat out of you before ‘she’ got her sick little fingers…everywhere’.



I tried to keep lecturing myself about my sack of shit life but bitching about it wasn’t going to do any good, luckily my thoughts were my own and for any one of those words she’d have me humiliate or debase myself, or worse….tend to her ‘needs’. She was glutton of all things related to pleasure, though looking at her she was fit and beautiful but never the less a sick sadistic, viper, and she lay coiled around me like many mornings before this.



Last night had been less…..well less ‘creative’ but just as revolting and degrading as it always was. She had company last night, a General I think in an attempt to get clearance for something. As a special treat she had me serve drinks in naught but my skin, the general was older woman, still she wasn’t shy with her eyes… or her hands. As for Commander Nigh she was so wound up from debasing me she spared me some of my other duties after the general had left, and ordered me to her room, she wasn’t a gentle woman so taking it slow was rare; the last words she whispered in my ear were “Make me scream.”



To make things as absolutely clear I wasn’t her ‘man’ I wasn’t her ‘other’ I wasn’t her ‘pet’, I WAS her property. Commander Lyshia Nigh, very high up in the chain of command so she got away with A LOT more than she should have. The Coryn Empire; ruled by women for women, and anything male were slaves, WE were pets, tools, breeders, and cannon fodder. I was an expendable killer, a bodyguard; one can imagine how many times I wished that I’d been able to step aside as a bullet closed in on the bitch, unfortunately I knew the price of failure the price of refusal, and that nothing I did or wanted would ever change anything.



“Carn…” She whispered with a silken snake tongue.



“Commander?” She woke…how…wonderful…it was too much to hope that I’d fucked her to death.



She looked up to me with her poisonous green eyes piercing me with them “I’m going to miss those lovely blues of yours.” Another mind-fuck she was always toying with me, it was hard to believe a single word she spoke. I lay silent staring up at the ceiling her hand playing across my chest ever so gently, a touch, a caress, then slipping further down to stomach “but I believe I know what I’ll miss most,” a twisted smile grew across her lips “are mornings like this.” Her finger tips drew lines down my abdomen lingered for a moment at my navel, I didn’t dare meet her eyes again it would only encourage her to tease me further “But we don’t have time to play unfortunately, fix my bath would you, then start breakfast, after that you may bathe and dress we have a busy day today so be quick about it.”



Apparent one cant help but notice that I did everything for her had I failed even the simplest tasks I’d be taken before the troops and publicly punished, she did that for more than just MY punishment it kept the others in line, I could barely feel the whip any more, having been raised under its wicked kiss for my whole goddamn life.



Nigh’s was a good liar, but I was starting to think that she meant what she said, she was too…nice it was unnerving probably her plan to begin with, but if it was some kind of mission or trip; I didn’t care anywhere was better than at her side, in her bed, under her gaze all of it sickened me and even a single day away from it was a paradise. “Your bath Commander.” I stood at the door to the bathroom holding it open for her as per the normal routine.



Drawing her bath I watched as she paraded her elegant form passed me without shame, in attempt to entice me, a futile attempt but what did it matter she’d use me anyway. “Such a gentleman.” She quipped; she knew why…She authorized the training, and shock treatment as punishment. One would be amazed how quickly something becomes habit when reinforced with electricity.



I moved to the kitchen my feet finding the cold tile floor, Nigh had specific tastes so breakfast was usually a complicated process, all high society dishes I was more appreciative of simpler meals, probably because it was a pain in the ass to cook ‘her’ meals. “Lets see what we have today Carn?” Waltzing out into the open in a towel and slippers, she had short firey hair it was a military prerequisite but length was the only limitation, I was an example “Mmmm,” she cooed as I served her a plate the salty smell of hickory bacon, coupled with diced green onions, French toast, and some Cajun dish I couldn’t recall the name for, Nigh had a taste for spicy foods, never sat well with me “Now go get ready Carn, you’ve got twenty minutes.”



Time limits…Another form of control she exerted, I made quick work of a hot shower, fortunately with a large breakfast she wouldn’t be standing in the doorway watching me a habit I had come to despise from her, I usually got around it with cooking but she’d often finish early and time how long it took me, suffice it to say my time limits kept getting shorter.



Standing in front of the mirror drying off, I winced with every scar playing across my back; so many that they blended together into a downward stroke, grooves and textures interrupting the natural lines of my frame. They weren’t the only marks life has left on me but they were the most noticeable. Moving the towel too my hair when I felt her cold fingers on my back, the feeling leaching into my spine “I ABSOLUTELY love this texture.” The complement was lost somewhere in the years of hearing *CRACK* and my own screaming echoing back at me from cold empty space. “I am so glad I put you through that laser hair removal program,” and hand floating over my right hip “So smooth.” Used to have to use a straight razor, for my face and everything south of that, and difficult job to say the least, but Nigh got sick of me taking so long so she made a permanent solution available… the only hair left on me were my eye brows and the mop on my head I suppose she wanted me feeling like a child for the rest of my life why else would she give a damn.



She reached for the towel pulling it gently away from my grasp; odd yet again this was not her style like someone savouring the last few sips of wine before calling it a night, those moments took forever. “I was thinking of changing this.” Sweeping her hand up to my hair taking a soft hold if it; it was her that had me bleach my hair to a snow white, streaking in the deep blue, my hair riddle with clean clear stripes… I was a god damn dress up doll. “Well, I’ll worry about that later, now get brushed and dressed.”



Dressing was easy too Nigh had lain my clothes on the bed as usual, a form fitting black turtleneck with three/quarter sleeves, crimson leathers, and standard issue boots and a small bracer for my left arm, there was a four inch knife hidden on the inside of the wrist; I could be shot for carrying an undeclared weapon but Nigh had no love of sending me anywhere without it, a deadly little tool, I’d proved as much more times than I’d like to say.



“Carn are you ready?” tying my boot laces she walked in dressed in a business suite with a skirt far too short to be seen seriously but people knew her reputation, I was dangerous yes and so was she, she was much better with knives than I’d ever be, or anyone else could be.



“Yes Commander.”



“Good, we have some foreign Dignitaries to baby-sit; you’ll get assigned to Ambassador Chelsey Kritten.” I followed a step behind as we exited the building and toward the base’s garage she briefed me on the details on the way. “She’s a Colonial, you were chosen because she is a high risk, and you speak her language, I’ve been told she understands common tongue and speaks it fluently, she has no military training, but with her young age my superiors don’t trust her, she’s too young to be only an ambassador, that and rumours of assassination have been floating around.”



“Am I to simply guard her Commander?”



“No, do not let on that you speak Colonial, listen in on her, you will be traveling with her as a guard, escort, and unfortunately those political morons see it as a good faith gesture you’ll be under her command.” Fuck… Thoughts of freedom replaced with the prospect of another bitch holding my leash, Nigh didn’t like the idea of ‘her’ property being loaned to someone else I could see it in the way she moved and in the tone of her voice. She never liked me be sent on any mission but those of HER choosing, but it happens, I imagine she doesn’t like all the effort she put into me to be put at risk…She cared, she cared about her own pleasure.



We came to her armoured car, nestled back in the far end of the garage, Nigh was the acting base commander so she got ALL the toys and broke all the rules, though anyone in a position to hurt her position with this information was dealt with… I dealt with them one way or another; some times with a bloody end others I’d rather not speak of, but the make me remember with every wink and suggestive glance.



I noticed a group male soldiers, kids, destined to be shock troops, mindless, drug addicted, and fed a daily dose of steroids, they were the broken ones, kids that didn’t survive training like mine…lucky bastards. They get strapped into thick body armour and loaded up with high impact weapons.



“Take us to the embassy; I’m sure you know the way.” I was driving… I forgot to add chauffer to my list of jobs. I knew my way around town well enough to get to Nigh’s favourite restaurants bars and clubs, as well as few government buildings. Starting the engine letting it rumble to life a lot of power not so much noise more capable than most other engines it was a beast, I’d torn through a few streets in the past and Nigh had been the target of more than a few assassination attempts, this vehicle saved us more than once, been rebuilt three times in the last year.



Fortunately this drive was smooth and uneventful save for Nigh bitching about this Ambassador and about the RULES I’d have to follow…slaves in service to political figures had different rules than that of those serving in the military either way we had no rights, no choice, just new habits and duties. “Apparently she’ll be in Coryn for an extended stay; the Colonies aren’t safe some network trouble, heavy equipment malfunctions and terrorists taking advantage of all the chaos.” The Colonies were always in trouble, unstable governments run by companies with no experience in the matter, using mercs’ as police… Nigh and myself had caused havoc on our ‘vacations’ black ops but they were never recognized as military operations, yet they always seemed to benefit Coryn, the Empress was usually pleased with her accomplishments, few people in power ever notice me; that was sort of the point.



“Oh I forgot to mention that since this a very sensitive matter, this is more of an audition, three others are being considered for service to the Ambassador and there’ll be heavy security and screening the works.” Without a word I removed my bracer and handed it over to Nigh. The screening was worse than a standard medical exam by far, I’d gone through it once or twice they don’t spare anything in these screenings, because in the past slaves have been used for assassinations, some having bombs implanted, or were infected with disease or bio-weapons, even actual weapons stowed away in the flesh, I was not looking forward to it but it was the way things were done.



“Okay we’re here, you know the drill Carn follow me keep your eyes open.” Nigh didn’t trust anyone, she couldn’t afford it; she once told me that I was the only one she had any trust in simply because she knew that I would share her fate if anything were to happen, she was right but it didn’t stop me from fantasizing about her demise.



We passed through security, not a slave in sight, they didn’t trust us with those positions they were too easily turned, too disposable. The eyes on me watching every step every turn of my head, give me the right weapons and few flash-bangs and I could kill everyone in this room, problem was I’d never leave this room the personnel weren’t the problem the automatic lockdown was. At the entrance we were stopped by this piss ant security-girl eyeing like a piece of meat “Commander Nigh,” she briefly acknowledge my Commander before turning back to me, behind her a second officer waited at the elevator “Her highness is waiting for you at the top floor,” then they pointed me to the security offices ‘the slave entrance’ “they’re ready for you, but please show your man to the security desk as soon as possible they want to do the screening before the Ambassadors arrive.”



“I thought they were allowing the Ambassador to make the selection.” Nigh was rarely mistaken on these things so a bit of tension in her voice over the sudden change was expected and it had this ‘greeter’ shaking in her boots. I would’ve smiled if I were allowed to.



“No ma’am recent information has us stepping up the schedule, Admiral Vissan, First Secretary Golha, the Empress and her daughters have also insisted on overseeing the screenings and selections.” Great…an audience…



“You sound disappointed Chief.” Nigh caught it as well the tone in the security chief’s voice made her grin like only a monster could; appreciating the fear she instilled in others.



“No ma’am someone has to see to the safety of this facility.”



“Good answer Chief.”



We moved further into the building no smell, and no sound other than the barely-there hum of cameras and the clicking of foot-falls “Carn.” she pointed me to the security desk, I nodded without a word and walked up to woman behind the desk. “Name, rank, and program?” She eyed me up and down waiting for an answer, thinking that tidy black uniform intimidated me.



“Carn, rank Alpha, product of the IOA-2 training program.” Every slave in the military was a product of corporate facility every single one! Methods change from place to place some brutal others subtle ALL designed to turn out a different type of soldier or slave by ripping away the IDEA of freedom. The kids that break don’t go to waste…experiments…shock troops. The mere mention of it brought back the memory of the gunshot……then there were the shock treatments and solitary confinement… stories for another time maybe.



“Okay Slave, step into the next room, the agent inside will instruct you further.” They went ahead and showed me into the next room an interrogation room with a rather large window and new machines lined up against the far wall. Three women inside, Medical Examiner an MP and an Agent typical set of women, very professional about this but I’ve heard that sometimes they draw straws to be involved, but luckily they were being watched by the Empress herself, three cameras only two were obvious at first glance.



“Center of the room!” The speakers in the high corners of the room blared to life; the voice was obviously from behind the mirrored glass I couldn’t see who stood there; what I’d give for a gun at that point. “Commence manual search.” The strip search first…yippee… I could almost feel Nigh’s wicked eyes through the cameras, and imagine the wicked smile born from displaying me to the Empress herself. Cold hands wrapped in latex taking their sweet fucking time, “Slave!” I straightened my posture as the voice commanded, next came a question “the tattoo on your chest; that is a black-ops brand correct?”



“Yes Ma’am.” ‘Ma’am’ the default of any woman I didn’t know the rank of… I didn’t see the point in the question, I never knew the entire meaning of it, though I remember being inked on my thirteenth birthday stung like a bitch, they added lines as I became more adept and the last part was added because of my service to Nigh, a triangle at its core. I endured two hours of poking prodding blood tests and scans allowing them to scan every molecule of me to make sure I wasn’t armed or unhealthy, they couldn’t afford to have any harm come to the Ambassador.



Then the questions about my skills and what I knew about the Colonials, they tested my ability to translate their language; they would speak lines in Colonial then I would translate it as plain as day. The second part I had to interact with that language further proving my knowledge of the language. Next was just a list of my skills training and accomplishments, though Nigh had told me to keep ‘certain’ details in the dark no matter who asked. That lasted longer than expected but it was part of the testing standing at attention without stitch of clothing in a room they kept toying with the temperature assaulting me with cold then heat…fucking pointless but still I didn’t move I didn’t flinch I answered their questions without hesitation, and without error. “Well done Slave, now the final test, kill the examiners.” It took me a split second to respond, to bad they didn’t react as fast.



I’d already snapped the medical examiners neck, I wasn’t wasting time, this wasn’t about inflicting pain, there was no need to fight just kill, they fought back, the MP kicked wide I caught her foot kicked the other from under her and crushed her larynx beneath my heel. The Agent was better trained, even armed with a gun and a combat knife she didn’t get a chance to squeeze off a round close yes but I’d gotten around her. A sleeper-hold is more effective than it seems, even as she kicked and struggled, my mind wandered over the science of this act, the science of putting this poor woman to sleep, cutting off the blood to the brain with a simple hold and all it takes is a short ten seconds and she will fall asleep, keep holding as she goes limp…a little longer…a little…longer…and she never wakes up.



I released her, as her body fell to the floor I felt as empty and lifeless as that corpser, these women died at my hand yes it was a simple test…wasteful…but I had no choice “Well done Slave, very neat and clean proceed to the next room; leave your things.” I exited and found elevator waiting door open and the destination already chosen. I looked back with regret I could kill without a second thought but after the moment something thing get through and pointless deaths…death without reason it was just a waste regardless of who it was, but it wasn’t the first time I’d killed innocents without reason beyond a simple order.



After a long ride to the 22nd floor I joined the other men standing in file three more slaves, like me my eyes didn’t have time to take in the sights… as I was standing shoulder to shoulder with the others facing, these women four of the security personnel armed much more seriously than anyone else in the building, they were the Empress’ Redguard the elite royal soldiers. Staring at the floor like the others we dropped to a knee at the exact moment the Empress entered…We dared not look up we were undeserving of looking upon her, BULLSHIT…but I’d be beaten half to death if I didn’t, the first thing we were taught, I’d never seen her beyond a glance, or reflection but that was more than enough she was a raven haired woman with an icy expression a commanding presence typical Empress like behaviour, though touch overweight, but she was just as ruthless as Nigh or so I’d gathered from her reputation.



Nigh was among the Empress’ entourage and stood in front of us “Daughter which of these do you think has what we require.” The air in here became tense as her foot steps came closer to us, she stood in front of one man stepped away with a gesture and *BANG*!! They’d shot him…There was only going to be one of us walking out of here, and despite the freedom in death I would still choose life. It came down to me and the last man, the Empress’ daughter grabbed my chin and let her steely eyes meet mine for a moment “Him.” BANG!! Another crumpled to the floor, leaving me.

Note: Hope you all enjoy this net section, gets a bit steamier in this section, and there is a bit of bisexuality thrown in just as a warning.



beyond that feel free to share your thoughts and questions




***********************************



The last time I was in a hotel remotely like this nightmare, I was in the elevator shaft twenty floors up wiring explosives. With Nigh guiding my actions over the radio, and whispering her twisted plans for the rest of the evening into my earpiece I found it as much an escape from her grip as it was a personal challenge to stay focussed. I had to leap from one ledge swing from the main cable and prey that it didn’t move before I released it sailing over to the next sure foothold, and setting the next charge. Wiring in the timer and arming the device was second nature so it only took moments “You know Carn you’ll be needing a good long shower when you’re finished, maybe I’ll have you join me.” She wasn’t expecting an answer so I never gave one either way she’d do as she wished and was sure to make me miserable; she preferred it that way said ‘it brought out the fire in my eyes.’



“The next charge ma’am?” I needed the last location, my whisper as lifeless as the dark shaft lingering below me.



Her sick smile was an image never far from my mind, and I’d bet that the bitch had it plastered across her face at that moment “At the top of the Shaft Carn, it’s the last one, and I’ll be seeing yours soon, so don’t keep me waiting.”



She had me set the charges to go 8hrs from then, a little thrill to be screwing in a building that was about to be engulfed in flame. About 100 maybe 200 people were in that tower I never bothered checking the guest lists. Nigh kept gasping those sadistic little details as she made good on all those dirty little ideas she put in my head.



I tried not to think of all the carnage that was to come simply to rid the world of one Politian. There were no comforting thoughts to be found, though her finger nails digging into my flesh would provide a distraction whilst I invaded familiar dark territory.



……….



‘Now arriving at the twentieth floor presidential sweets please exit the elevator.’ A synthetic voice chimed freeing me from that wretched memory, and back into this new nightmare.



“So Carn how long have you been with the military?” My whole fucking life! I wasn’t going to tell her that in such a tone but didn’t stop me from thinking it. Still I was as always chained to the rules I was raised by, and that made the question as good as a command.



“As long as I can remember Ma’am.” It was kind of pointless to ask; any information about me would be in the dossiers they no doubt sent to her secure network account. Every embarrassing detail leaving out all the mission data they didn’t want a foreigner to see which most of it was



“Not much for conversations are you?” and yet another stupid remark pricked my skin like an 8cy needle, slaves weren’t for conversation unless it was some pathetic little house pet.



“No Ma’am.”



“Could you stop calling me Ma’am?” She huffed as in frustration not liking the authority afforded to her; it was amusing and there were very few times in my life where the rules brought me joy. Irritating her was entertaining at the very least and I wasn’t about rob myself of it if had any choice in the matter.



“No, Ma’am I cannot.”



“Is there anything ‘else’ you can call me, I hate the Ma’am title.” And I hate dumb questions, looks like we were both outta luck.



“No Ma’am.”



As we walked down the hall I noticed how empty this place really was, they must’ve cleared out the entire floor for the Ambassador’s visit, very dumb idea might as well put a neon sign on the building or paint a big target on her room’s window, better yet get a quality rocket launcher and stick it somewhere unpleasant.



God I hate being on this side of the target, I’d rather be the one aiming at it rather than standing between it and the bullet. Then again very few assassins these days cared about collateral damage it was the pray’n'spray method easy but messy, bombs and the like made things too easy in my opinion.



“Here’s our room, at least now we can get comfortable.” Fuck I hated those words, ‘get comfortable’. Every time Nigh used it I knew exactly what she expected of me, it was a sort keyword…’Carn’ you better get comfortable’ ‘Carn I’m gonna get comfortable’ ‘aren’t you going to get comfortable’… Hopefully it didn’t mean the same coming from this woman, problem was if it did and I had to be told twice……



Inside the room door closed behind us she wandered off into the next room…My assumptions were getting to the point that my body acted on reflex, shedding my armour my shirt, boots… She walked in “This room is amazing you rea-….!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!” I stopped with my pants around my ankles, and just looked at her like she was the odd one, no woman I ever met would’ve been so embarrassed, and she couldn’t even look at me. Were Colonials truly that different??



“Following orders Ma’am.” Assumed orders but never-the-less.



“I didn’t-I didn’t tell you to do that, why would you?! I mean what kind of military-?! Have you no shame?”



“No Ma’am, shame is a luxury, slaves don’t have that luxury.” I just stared at her hiding her eyes behind her hand but still I swear she struggled not to peak passed it…a very strange woman.



“You’re…you’re a slave?? I didn’t think-”



“No you didn’t Ma’am.”



“Didn’t what?”



“Think…Ma’am.” I insulted her but she never noticed it.



“Could you please put your clothes back on?” I almost smiled, a rare occasion to say the least. I pulled my pants back up and re-did my belt as she started to talk again “I thought slavery was illegal.” She really needed to read up on her history, Coryn has been a slave nation for a VERY long time, I’d think everyone thinking to travel here would know that much.



“Not in the Coryn Empire Ma’am.” I thought there was something odd about this woman, she obviously never owned a slave, any woman raised in this society wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of a Slave, unless he was defective or unsightly but those were often cast aside executed or shipped to the mines depending on how bad their case was, a bullet was cheaper than surgery and there were always more and better looking pieces of meat sitting in the fridge.



“So that’s why you- ummmmm.”



“Offered myself to you… yes and no Ma’am,” I wasn’t going to lie.



“Are there many slaves in Coryn?” FUCK yet another stupid question.



“Every living man and boy Ma’am.” You could see them everywhere doing the jobs women felt were below them, men were useful for breeding, hard labour and military servitude. they had uses for the ‘barbaric instincts of men’ my former instructors words not mine…I’d say these women could be just as barbaric as any man given enough power and lack of rules, just look at Commander Nigh for an example ruthless and consumed with desire for all things related to pleasure or power, often both accompanied with leather.



“So, you’re not really a bodyguard??” I’d laugh if I remembered how to, she thought I was some simple boy toy sent to keep her company…It may have been a part of it but not the whole point, I was supposed to keep her happy and keep her safe a double edged job, but apparently I was free of that half of the job for now…



“I am fully trained, an am more than capable of protecting you Ma’am.”



“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” Wasted apologies why did she care, my opinion didn’t matter in the least. The apology was the only thing that offended me…



“I’m a slave Ma’am no apology required; I follow your orders Ma’am.” Like a goddamn robot I just gave her control, just like that no thought just…just reacting like I was taught to. It was nothing new but still it only served to piss me off every time was reminded how badly my mind had been fucked with, I almost wished I wasn’t aware of it, a special part of my training. Not all slaves are aware of how badly they’ve been warped ‘ignorance is bliss.’



She didn’t know what to do, what to think or even say. That blank look plastered across her face…How could she be an ambassador? This was pathetic, Politian’s were supposed suave, confident, charismatic especially those granted the status of an Ambassador ‘they’ stood to represent their country their people and this lithe woman stood there meek and unsure, wringing her hands hoping to squeeze a thought from them. No wonder the Colonials couldn’t keep order.



“I’m sorry I’ve work to do before I’m to meet with your Empress, could you ummm ah….” She didn’t even know what orders to give.



A knock came to the door “Expecting anyone Ma’am?”



“Yes Carn, my advisor; Sheila Versy, could you finish getting dressed and let her in.” Stupid move, she held too much trust. How did she know for sure…? But then again a killer doesn’t walk through the front door not one as well guarded as this building, not unless it’s me, or someone better.



I put on my shirt and opened the door to a dark skinned woman older maybe 33 years old; she dressed like a lawyer, albeit one with too much make up and perfume I almost choked. I needed only brief glance to see she wasn’t a threat and let her pass closing the door behind her “Hello handsome.” She smiled wide as if party to a joke I hadn’t been told “Chelsey my dear you lucky little thing!” This one acted more like the women I was used to, unfortunately. “This is what I love about visiting this Coryn on diplomatic missions.” With a passing grope and a worthless come hither stare she closed the distance between her and the Ambassador and I saw to locking the door.



“Couldn’t you warn me?!” Ms. Kritten wasn’t happy about the surprise of a Slave nation; this Sheila had a different point of view.



“And ruin the surprise.” I wasn’t going to just stand in that room as they argued I’d take this time to hunt down my things. I could get away with it under guise of checking the security of the room, only Nigh would see through that bullshit excuse just to put distance between us. Whatever I needed had been sent up here, and there wasn’t likely to be very much, I didn’t own anything…so I assumed ‘weapons’.



I was going to take inventory while they talked. “I mean c’mon why do you think they ‘NEVER’ allow male diplomats across the boarder?” Ms Versy was going cause me trouble, I just knew it.



The Ambassador just remained silent and angry “Remember Ms. Big-wig this is the safest place in the world unless it’s Coryn targeting that tiny white ass of yours, luckily they LIKE you,” Apparently my new owner had some enemies “AND who are we to judge their way of life, it works for them so why not enjoy it? These men the do ANYTHING you order them to!”



She paused for a moment, and all I could think was ‘oh crap’ “What?! I had a good time my last couple visits, the stories I could tell you.” Ms. Versy had likely been privy to the favours of office and didn’t seem shy of accepting them.



Unpacking the suitcase marked with my brand I found clothes in one and weapons in the other, though holding a gun right then may not have ended well if I were a lesser man “Did they send this guy up after you got here? He’s better looking than the one I got last time and I had to call the front desk to get that much, and yours is young too I’m so jealous!” My rifle was looking real friendly I must say.



“He’s our body guard Sheila…” I could hear her tapping away at a laptop “His dossier is right in the package they sent us, look.”



“19…nice.” That knowing grin made me sick to my stomach.



“Sheila!!!”



“I’m still reading, calm yourself okay…holy shit, this is hard to believe, apparently, he knows yoga, gymnastics, cooking, cleaning,” Look I found my revolver and a box of bullets… “If you don’t want him I’ll take him? Killing machine or not this guy is apparently perfect according to the record, and with yoga and gymnastics mmmm-mm girl, a rock hard body, flexible, come on and he’s GOT TO have a bi-”



“SHEILA ENOUGH!! He’s supposed to keep us alive, not one of your boy toys besides we’ve got work to worry about……and yes.” I hated being talked period; I’d rather be unnoticed for the most part.



There was moment of silence before “Yes what??” More silence until laughter burst forth from Ms Versy’s lips. Footsteps soon followed across the wood floor stopping behind me, I put down my things and stood, bowing courteously.



“Ma’am…”



“So you’re Carn? Nice to meet you I’m Sheila Versy,” this was what I was used to, and she looked at me with one idea in mind, and all I could do was stand there and accept the fact; that was my fate “Well I for one am glad to have your services on hand…as a bodyguard.” She added casting a glance back at the door. The look in her eye told her story in an almost lude display.



“Thank you Ma’am.” Now leave before I pick up another gun… If only I could but my body was trained for obedience. I wouldn’t dare do it; even the thought of it drowned me in memories of pain. Had I actually made the attempt I would’ve crumple to the floor screaming, a very deep very eloquent form of hypno-therapy reinforced with electro-shock, so in laymen’s terms an expensive and effective mind-fuck.



She left me in peace and I went about checking out my equipment, extra armour, assorted knives, grenades, a few shaped charges, my S-34 anti-material rifle, revolver and slug gun. Not to mention my cleaning kit and an entire trunk filled with ammo. It almost therapeutic going about cleaning and organizing every piece, it was one of the few things I enjoyed, didn’t care if that was the training talking.



“Carn?” Ms. Kritten was calling me, now began the power trip…



I walked out into the main room finally taking stock of the place; the first room was shooting gallery a two floor open concept penthouse first floor wide open kitchen, and bar including plush leather couches and dinning room. The big god damn window with great view of the city was my main concern, these windows stretched up to the second level it too was open, well lit and housed a small entertainment center of it own center around an expensive computer wired into room’s electronic functions. Among the second floor rooms was the master bedroom out of sight at least and, down stairs was the guest bedroom, and a massive bathroom, a Jacuzzi sized tub and a waterfall shower.



I wasn’t pleased with the idea of the sleeping arrangements; two beds three of us considering how much Ms. Versy consistently reminded me of the Commander.



Finding my way to the second level Ms Kritten was on her laptop; Ms. Versy was downstairs getting a drink, whiskey by the look of it, with too much ice. “Yes Ma’am?”



“We’re meeting with the Empress tomorrow, and we have guests coming over tonight…Sheila’s idea,” ‘No kidding’ came to mind, “she has a few friends they want to touch face with the new Colonial Ambassador, should be just business and a few drinks.” Finally she was starting to act intelligently telling me these things made protecting her easier, surprises would compromise her safety, so would the indulgences of Ms Versy…One of those problems was dealt with, but I’d needed more information about these guests, the other problem was out of my hands.



“What do you know about these people Ma’am?” She went to tell me in depth what she knew bringing up files via the network connection provided by the hotel, I saw very little threat to her, these women were wealthy business owners, they often have… eccentric tastes that I recall with a good deal of disgust. I hoped that they’d bring their own fun and leave me out of it. I wasn’t very lucky though and somehow I expected to be the entertainment regardless what I was MEANT to be doing here.



A few hours later I’d went back and finished taking stalk of my weapons cleaning and oiling the parts organizing my clothes into neat piles. Ms. Versy hi-jacked the closet of the guestroom room, and Ms. Kritten was tapping away at her laptop the whole time checking news feeds from the colonies. I was happy to have even that short time to myself though they both took a break to dress more elegantly for their evening. Ms Kritten in blue velvet, Ms. Versy in red silk.



Ms. Versy was more endowed than the lithe Ms Kritten, but neither seemed out of shape. The women that arrived were more akin to sluts than powerful women of industry tiny little dresses low cut neckline, and a hem two inches away from being indecent. Trailing behind was a doe-eyed boy-toy, lean not overly fit like many hulking freaks some women like to cultivate.



I felt envious of for him, not much older than me but I could tell he hadn’t lived a hard life, he was probably groomed for simple service meaning he wasn’t all that bright either; he didn’t have to be. He was a little nervous looking like a puppy not used to being outside, they even had him collared… looked good on him… What the fuck was I thinking… this night was going to be a nightmare and my thoughts strayed to…that.



“Hello ladies thought we’d bring the entertainment while we worked, but I see you’ve got your own…” The ice eyed blonde closed in on me like a shark a hand on my cheek grasping at my chin knowing full well I wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop her. Turning my face from side to side checking my mouth appraising me with her hands stopping only to look in my eyes “top dollar too, beautiful eyes.” Indifferent toward me as I would be to my meal, she was unarmed by the look of that painted on dress. Silk like Ms.Versy but deep violet following the exaggerated curves of her hips and swell of her backside, and pressed upward to enhance a modest bust at best, guess she didn’t care for implants…or underwear for that matter.



The other was a small Asian woman, Lidia Dulshye she was the owner and operator of a massive company controlling well over half the Import and Export into this country, so there was more threat there than anywhere just her knowledge of Ms Kritten might draw unwanted attention. Short wild hair, black save for the bright highlights, she wore a dress more akin to a body wrap, covering just enough to reveal a body a swimmer would kill for, sculpted and cut through some form of intense athletics. Didn’t have access to her files or I’d know what it was.



“Miribell watch that one, he is not some simple pretty thing.” Smart woman, very observant. It was very easy to tell the difference between a soldier and someone like ‘doe-eyes’ standing in the open door almost timidly as he waited for his next command, it was…cute.



“Leonard please shut the door and make yourself familiar with the kitchen.”



“The bar especially, Leonard.” Lidia added quickly.



A glorified waiter, cook, and jiggalo he read like bad comic book, but I could see what women saw in him, though unfortunately their attention focused on me instead. “So are you more than a pretty thing,” She turned her attention to me, Miribell’s fingers curling at the hem of my shirt pulling ever so slightly upward teasing the on looking audience.



“Yes Ma’am.” Ms. Versy was grinning like an idiot in the background as I was turned about to see her and Ms. Kritten as she tried to restrain outrage, uncomfort, and blushing cheeks, as the blonde…Miribell kept on with curious hands. Her unwelcome pawing growing more intimate with every passing moment. Still I didn’t move remaining as a statue as she explored, raking her nails across bare skin as they traveled beneath my clothes. Had I reacted at all it wouldn’t end well, I learned that a long time ago at the end of a cattle-prod “Not even a flinch, someone trained him well.” She stripped the shirt from my back only to give way to gasps as all laid eyes upon my back, even Leonard seemed shocked.



“Looks like you were a bad pet.” Lidia sat at the bar glass in hand admiring the scarred landscape of my back; she was wrong those scars were a ‘gift’ from the Commander, and a memory for another time. Luckily the question was never asked, the answer already implied though it still pissed me off to think about it.

This story deals with forced feminization.. I’ve enjoyed this fetish ever since childhood.. You will find that current technology hasn’t quite caught up with the following story, but I’m hoping that will change.. This story is very long and shouldn’t be tackled all in one night.. I suggest downloading three or four pages at a time and then reading a few pages of it at bedtime.. I do hope you find it a good read..



*



The M&R Corporation looms above you like a Japanese movie monster. You step out of the taxi and pay the driver with the last few bills you have to your name. This job couldn’t have come at a better time. You do a quick double check to make sure you have all of your papers. The interviewer insisted that all forms of ID were required on your first day, including your social security card, birth certificate, passport … everything. It was also requested that you bring a health department verified drug test and a physical report with a clean bill of health. A deep breath fills your lungs. You feel more organized and together than you’ve ever been in your life.



The claustrophobic revolving door opens up into the expansive lobby. The morning sun shines through the front window causing the M&R logo to be silhouetted on the floor at your feet. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. A premonition perhaps? If so… then a premonition of what?



At the far end of the lobby is a reception booth. A cute secretary is sitting behind the desk talking on the phone. This place is really bustling. A herd of well-dressed businessmen brush past you and into an elevator alcove. You’re beginning to get excited. This job could really be a door opener for you.



You step up to the front desk.



The secretary looks up at you while talking on the phone and gives the universal hand gesture indicating she’ll be right with you. You use the opportunity to ogle her obvious attributes.



She is insanely cute, emphasized even more by the “office tease” outfit she’s bursting out of. Her white blouse is tight, stretched across breasts that are either fake or a divine gift. The shirt is buttoned (or rather unbuttoned) low enough to display an ample eyeful of cleavage and a hint of a lacy, red bra. The thread sticking out from where her top button used to be catches your attention as you devour her chest with your eyes.



She must have lost the button. She probably breathed in and shot the thing across the room.



The thought makes you smile. It feels good to smile and it helps to alleviate some of the nervousness that is pulsing through your entire body. You look up from the wonderful view to see that she’s smiling back at you. You feel the blush on your face.



“Hi. My name is Nikki. How may I make your day better?” Her voice is musical, the words a sing-song tease. A hundred sexy images flood through your head making your blush grow deeper.



“I’m Dave Phillips. I’m supposed to check in this morning.”



“Oh you’re the new secre…”



She giggles.



“I mean, data entry worker. Let me get the paperwork.”



She stands up and you see her short, black skirt that flares out into a pleated bottom that hits her mid-thigh. When she leans over to get papers out of the filing cabinet, you catch the briefest glimpse of a garter clasp and the smooth, creamy flesh above her stocking.



You feel the stir down below and bite your lip as a tent in your pants pops up. You press up against the desk hoping no one will notice.



What if someone DOES notice? What if she notices?



This is not the way you want your first day at work to be remembered. You try and concentrate on mundane elements of the desk: The marble top, the blinking phone, the M&R stationary stacked for guest use. The embarrassing protrusion begins to diminish and you allow yourself to let out the breath you were holding.



“Here you go, sweetie.”



She plops a large stack of papers in front of you and your eyes dart down to look at them, catching sight of her wonderful cleavage again. The embarrassing protrusion returns in full and you bite your lip, pressing tighter to the desk to hide it.



“Thank you,” you stammer. You drag your eyes up to hers and find she’s staring at you intently as if trying to tell you something with just her eyes. Has she seen your problem?



Her eyes dart back and forth across the room and then without warning she leans forward across the desk to get closer to you. Her arms on the desk make her cleavage bulge and you fight back a whimper as your eyes find them again.



“Read it carefully,” she says. Her voice is soft, her breath sweet and warm. Your mouth waters with desire and lust. Does this girl know what she’s doing? Does she realize how erotic she makes each and every word?



“I will.” The words barely make it out of your throat. All you can focus on is the memory of that glimpse of thigh. The feast of cleavage in front of your face. The smell of her breath, still lingering from her words. You clear your throat and try again.



“Thanks. I always read everything carefully.” You smile at her, pleased that you’ve managed to sound a little more in control. Your brain races trying to figure out how to get over to one of the chairs without her noticing your embarrassing ‘problem’.



“Would you please let them know that I’m here.” You smile again. That sounded very confident and self-assured. The disappointment in her eyes catches you by surprise, but at least she turns her attention to the phone. You quickly pick up the clipboard full of papers. Holding them in front of your crotch you hurry to one of the chairs and sit. Your face is on fire. Did anyone notice? You look around and breathe a sigh of relief that no one seems to be interested in you at all. Your eyes find the secretary. She’s talking into the phone again, giving you no attention. It’s only as she hangs up the phone that she finally gazes over at you and smiles. The smile doesn’t help the problem beneath the clipboard.



You flip to the last page of the contract and find the expected blank line for your signature. With a flourish you put your name on it. You stare at the words on the back page for another two or three minutes, giving the tent in your pants the opportunity to diminish. Nikki smiles as you hand her the contract, but the smile has a trace of sadness in it that seems out of place.



She covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand and whispers, “Welcome to the team. I called Miss Payne and told her you were here. She’s supposed to meet you at the elevators. I’d hurry if I were you. She REALLY doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”



You mumble a thank you to Nikki and turn to go.



“Good luck on your first day, cutie,” she says, still in that hushed whisper. You turn to make your way to the elevator when you hear her mutter three more soft words. “You’ll need it.”



The woman standing in the elevator alcove does not look happy. Her outfit and demeanor are a striking contrast to the secretary you were dealing with only moments before. Her suit screams efficiency. The skirt dropping down onto her thigh, emphasizing the thin heeled designer boots. Her hair is pulled back. Her makeup understated and no nonsense. She is by no means unattractive, but you’d never approach this woman in a social setting for fear of losing some vital body part in the process.



“Who the hell are you?” she barks.



You hold out your hand and she glances down with disdain at the outstretched appendage.



“I’m Dave Phillips. I’m supposed to start work today.”



She stares at your hand until you put it down. Her eyes meet yours and you can only look into them for a second before you find yourself looking away uncomfortably.



“Well…you’re not what I expected. You hardly look like office girl material.” she growls.



You laugh. The sound that comes from you is not a comfortable sound. Even to your own ears it sounds strained and anxious. Your chuckle cuts off when you realize she’s not laughing with you. You start to speak but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand and just stares at you. Time passes slowly as she eyeballs you up and down. You get the distinct impression that she’s evaluating you. You smile and wait, feeling horribly uncomfortable. You don’t know exactly where to put your hands and end up crossing them tightly to your chest in what you know is a defensive stance. This woman makes you nervous. Her eyes devour every inch of you and then a smile touches the corner of her mouth. It is not a pleasant looking smile.



“Where’s your contract?” she demands. Before you can answer, she spies it in your hand and rips it away from you.



The woman flips the front page of the contract open and spies your signature on the back page. The humorless smile broadens on her lips and her eyes once again raise up to your face in that evaluating look.



“Looks like everything is in order,” she says, tucking the contract under one arm, “Let’s get you to where you need to be”. She pulls from her belt a long chain that has a key card connected to the end of it. She swipes the card in a slot by the elevator and almost immediately the bell dings and the doors open.



She ushers you inside and then swipes the card again on a similar slot under the floor buttons. She presses the “9″ button and the car instantly starts to rocket upward. Apparently the elevators require a key card to work. Excitement causes those stomach butterflies to flutter.



The elevator door opens and Miss Payne steps out.



“First door on the left,” she barks, “I’ll be there in a minute. There’s something I have to take care of first.” She disappears down the hallway.



Out of curiosity, you try pushing the lobby button in the elevator, but nothing happens. It takes a key card to change floors. A keycard you don’t have!



With no other choice, you step out of the elevator and make your way to the first door on the left.



You start to turn the knob, when a piercing scream erupts from the door across the hall.



You open the door that Miss Payne indicated to begin with and slip inside. The room is dismal, populated only with a table, a few chairs and several rows of lockers. The table is covered in magazines like Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Today’s Hairstyles and other such uninteresting items. There is a small, open door in the corner of the room, through which you can see a minuscule restroom. Before you have time to get your bearings, Miss Payne storms in behind you.



“This is the changing room. We have a very strict dress code here and to enforce that we insist that you keep your uniforms here. They are laundered in house and ensure that our employees are always presentable. Understood?”



You nod your head yes.



“Now before we continue, we need to discuss something. You have been hired for a position that we normally only hire pretty girls for. As I’m sure even you can understand, this puts us in an awkward position, since if we fire you we face accusations of discrimination. Yet the job you’ve been hired for requires you to work closely with the other girls and we don’t want any sexual tension in our work place.”



She cuts you off with a wave of her hand.



“I can’t have ANY of our employees, be it you or the girls, distracted from work by sexual tension.” You don’t know exactly what to say. It feels like she’s mad at you for being male.



“I do believe we have a solution of sorts…”



She holds up a piece of nasty looking metal. You don’t know exactly what it is, but the sight of a tiny silver padlock dangling from the corner of it causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.



“What is that?” you ask.



“Its a chastity belt. It’ll keep you and any…impulses…you might have under control. You’ll put it on every morning, and come ask me for the key after work. Well? Come on…I haven’t got all day. Drop your pants.”



For a moment you stand there unmoving. She’s got to be kidding. She can’t expect you to let her lock up your penis. Right?



Humiliation burns your cheeks as you remove your shoes, socks and then finally, your pants. You stand up, your hands covering your privates as best they can . She looks at you nonplussed.



“Those too,” she mumbles. It takes you a moment before you realize she means your underwear. You start to protest, but the anger that flashes in her eyes takes what little fight you have left. Every scrap of dignity departs as your undergarment joins the pile of clothing. She tosses you the odd-shaped garment and the color drains out of your face as you begin to slide it on. It fits like a thong with a long sleeve in the front for your equipment. The front of the material has what feels like a hard, metal plate sewn into the lining, while a tiny cloth strap slides between your butt cheeks to connect up to a small clasp on the band around your waist. With the garment in place, Miss Payne struts over and stands behind you. She fiddles with the clasp for a minute, ratcheting the thing back and forth. You feel the garment getting tighter and tighter and the sleeve that you tucked yourself into begins to compress and pull downward and back. You start to protest but the thought of her kneeling on your chest stifles any complaints. You feel your limp organ manipulated more and more until the sleeve is as tight as it could possible be, pointing your penis straight down toward the floor between your legs. It’s not quite painful, but it is horribly constricting and you wonder how you got yourself into this position. Finally she stops pulling and you hear a click of what can only be a locking mechanism. Your heart beats double duty as you look down and see the lack of equipment below. The front of the metal plate completely covers the sheath that your penis is held in. At a casual glance it looks like you’re wearing thong underwear and that you have absolutely no equipment inside of it. This does not make you feel any better about this situation.



“The second locker from the end is free. Put your clothes in it. There is a robe inside. Put it on and meet me at the elevator.” She bursts out the door like a tornado, leaving you staring at the lockers.



On the top of each locker a name is stenciled. You deduce that the name indicates who owns the locker. The name above the locker she told you to use must have been a girl who used to work here.



“Poor Rita. Miss Payne probably ate her.” Your chuckle sounds empty to your own ears.



You open the locker and see a robe hanging from one of the hooks. You put your clothes inside and pull out the pink satiny garment with a look of trepidation. She can’t possibly expect you to wear this thing. It’s the thought of standing here mostly naked in a chastity belt that gets you moving. Feeling horribly foolish, you slip the robe on and realize that you might as well take your shirt off as well. With the short sleeves and low cut front, the robe looks even more foolish with a button up shirt and tie underneath it. You hang up your shirt and slip the robe on again. This time you notice the monogrammed name on the chest: Rita.



“She didn’t even get to keep the robe when she left,” You tie the robe closed with the tiny pink string. Not that it makes you feel more modest. The almost see-through material only covers you down to the middle of your thigh, and the top is cut down below your breast bone. If all the girls around here wore these kinds of robes, it’s no wonder they make everyone wear chastity belts.



Miss Payne chuckles when she sees you.



“C’mon Rita,” she mocks as you step into the elevator. She swipes her card, pushes a button and the elevator rockets upward. “Before we continue your training, its company policy that all employees familiarize themselves with the products and services that M&R provides.” The elevator door opens and you find yourself in a tiny room with a large, odd looking table in the center. A pretty redheaded woman appears and suppresses a smirk at the sight of you. You can’t help but blush.



“Hi. I’m Penny,” the redheaded woman says. “welcome to the M&R family. You’ve been scheduled for a spa, massage and grooming session. Lucky for you, we have two attendants available. Which would make you more comfortable sweetie? Male or female?”



There’s no way in hell that you’re letting a guy see you in this ridiculous outfit, much less rub you down. Besides, every woman you have seen in this building so far has been absolutely stunning. If that trend continues, you might end up with a knock-out rubbing her hands all over you.



You mumble, “Female.” You’re a little worried that the women in front of you will think you’re a pervert, but neither one seems to care. Miss Payne has already stepped back into the elevator and as the doors slide shut she says, “Buzz me when it’s done.” Then the horrible woman is gone and the pretty redhead is leading you to the table.



“I’ll go get Samantha,” she says, “Take your robe off and lie on the table. She’ll be in shortly.” You wait for the woman to leave the room before stripping the garment off. The chastity belt leaves you feeling awfully exposed and embarrassed. You clamber up onto the table and lie face down with your head pointing through the hole at the head of the table. A pair of feet and shapely legs suddenly appears in your vision.



“Hi,” says a musical voice above you, “welcome to the team. I’m going to be giving you a combination massage/skin treatment session. She continues her spiel about what the massage entails and you take the opportunity to sneak a peek at her.



The first thing you notice, hell it’s hard not to notice, is that she’s barely wearing anything. Her breasts are huge, bursting out of a bikini top. Tight blue shorts hug her figure, emphasizing her tiny waist. Then you see her face and wonder if you died and went to heaven. Raven hair tickles her shoulders, her red-ruby lips gleaming against her darker skin. She looks as if she has some sort of Japanese ancestry, although you can’t recall having ever seen a Japanese girl with breasts this size before. You feel an instant throb inside the chastity belt and the horrible device constricts around your member keeping it tiny and limp. Maybe it IS a good idea to wear this thing. How embarrassing it would be to have this woman see how excited you got at just her appearance.



You feel a cool liquid pour onto your skin and then her soft, yet decidedly strong hands begin massaging your muscles. The liquid tingles as it gets worked into your pores almost to the point of discomfort, but the talented hands of Samantha distract more than enough. Her hands cover every inch of your body, even some places that cause you more than a little embarrassment. You flinch as her fingers slip into the crevice of your ass and work their way along the edges of your chastity belt. The tiny strap between your cheeks feels like virtually no protection from her and you squirm as her fingers slide behind the material to the deep recesses. What kind of massage is this?



Then her hands disappear and she instructs you to flip over. You’re both grateful and horribly humiliated by the chastity belt. You wonder if the girl is wearing one too. Without thinking about it, your eyes drift down to her crotch. You stare at it for a long minute, but can’t tell. With a sudden embarrassment, you realize where you’re staring and glance up at her face to see if she noticed. If the smirk on her lips doesn’t give you your answer, the wink does. You close your eyes quickly, cheeks flaming and heart-rate drumming up-tempo. She rubs down your front and you try with all your might not to dwell on how uncomfortable and self-conscious you are.



Your thoughts are diverted as you feel her hands caress the edge of your chastity belt again. As she rubs the lotion into your inner thighs, you feel your member betray you. It tries to spring to life, but the tight sleeve around it cuts the blood flow. It tries again, but to no effect except a borderline painful yearning between your legs. You’re both tremendously thankful for the thing (after all you don’t want a raging erection as this woman does her job) but at the same time horrified at the thought that you can’t get hard while wearing it. Her hands begin to deeply massage your thighs and for a third time your penis tries to swell. When it finds that it can’t, it spits a tiny spurt of built up semen. Your embarrassment knows no end, even though it appears that Samantha didn’t even notice. If she did, she shows no sign and only continues to massage the lotion (now mixed with your own liquid) into your legs. Despite your embarrassment, a dawning horror is filling your mind as well. There was no pleasure from the spurt between your legs, just an obvious release of useless fluid. Worse yet, the spurt seems to only encourage your member to WANT to expand. Your can feel your face glowing as you realize that you are more than a little horny.

After what seems like an eternity, her hands disappear. You’ve almost gone to sleep, prevented only by the tingling of the lotion that seems to have intensified with every passing second and the nonstop throbbing in your belt.



“Brace yourself,” Samantha says. Before you have a chance to ask what she means, a horrible cold pain surrounds your body. You can’t breathe and you gasp in a big mouthful of water. Then it’s over and you’re left lying on the table in a cold, shivering heap. Between your legs, your equipment shrivels from the shock. It might be your imagination but it almost feels like the chastity belt takes up the slack. You have a sinking suspicion that as your member shrunk, so did the sleeve holding it. You have a bad feeling that it’s not going to allow your equipment to go back to the size it was only moments ago.



Samantha begins to pat you dry and you notice that your skin feels oddly sensitive to the soft towel. You open your eyes and sit up. For a moment you can’t understand what happened. Your legs are completely hairless. So are your arms. For that matter your whole body from the neck down doesn’t have a scrap of hair on it. The lotion must have been some sort of hair removal product. Not only that but you’re now aware of the smell emanating from your pores. You still smell like the lotion. Samantha smiles at you, holding out your robe.



“What kind of lotion was that?” you ask, still stunned at the lack of body hair. She continues to pat you dry as she speaks. Your skin is so sensitive you can feel every fiber of the plush towel.



“It’s a patented M&R creation. Scented defoliation lotion. It doesn’t smell of chemicals because it’s made of all natural botanical ingredients and human pheromones. It has yet to cause an allergic reaction on a single person. It’s one of our most popular products. Miss Payne insists that the entire secretarial pool try it out immediately so that they can push the product on the phone.”



You start to explain to her that you’re not a secretary, but a data entry worker. Before you get a chance, she nudges you with an elbow.



“Wait till you see the reaction you get from the opposite sex. Those pheromones are lethal. Even you will be irresistible.”



Before you have a chance to question this statement, a chime sounds indicating that your session is finished. Appearing out of nowhere, Penny returns. You scramble into the satin robe, trying to cover your nakedness. The material caresses your overly sensitive skin, causing you to shiver.



Penny leads you through several intricate hallways, chattering away all the while. You barely hear her. Your smooth and sensitive skin causes you to be aware of your every movement. The satin robe caresses you with a slightly ticklish embrace. The swelling in your chastity belt is more than uncomfortable now, bordering on painful. The pain isn’t a deterrent to the throbbing thing between your legs, however. If anything it makes it more eager. You’re more than a little upset that they removed all your body hair, but you have to admit it does FEEL really good. At least your trapped member thinks so. You might not be able to change clothes at the gym for a while, but every movement you make is excruciatingly pleasant.



The chatty redhead ushers you into a small room with a big, nasty-looking chair in the middle. It reminds you of a dentist chair and you’re once again filled with a trepidation about being here.



“Have a seat,” Penny says, heading for the door. “They’ll be with you in a minute.”



She disappears and not knowing what else to do, you sit in the chair.



Mere seconds later, four people burst into the room. Three of them barely even acknowledge your existence and go straight to the counter behind you and dig through the drawers of grooming supplies. The fourth one stands over you. “Hi. I’m Naomi. Welcome to the team.”



“The first thing we need to do is whiten your teeth,” her voice is so perky it hurts your head. She goes to the counter, grabs a handful of stuff and returns over talking all the way.



“Do you drink coffee? I’ll bet you do. Soda maybe?” She squeezes a tube of green goo into a bit of plastic. “Doesn’t matter,” she has yet to let you answer, “In a few minutes you’re going to have a dazzling white smile. Now listen…this process is patented by this company. It’s crucial that you don’t move your mouth after your teeth are in this mold. It will halt the whitening process, but also the solution is not a good thing to swallow. We had one girl who was nauseous for the better part of a week, so keep your mouth still. Do you understand?”



You nod your head dumbfounded and before you’re fully aware of what’s happening, she’s positioning the piece of gooey plastic into your mouth. You feel your teeth snap into the groove, and the plastic mold hinges open, locking your jaw as open as it will go. She sticks a tube into your mouth that begins to siphon off the excess saliva.



“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” she says as if its no time at all. “Remember, don’t move your mouth if you can help it.” You watch her disappear out the door. You doubt you could move your mouth anyway. The mold has it locked all the way open and biting down against the horrible gooey plastic mold causes your teeth to feel soft.



A slightly effeminate guy appears in front of you next. He’s putting on the second of his clear protective gloves and you wonder with a little trepidation what he’s protecting his hands from.



“Well,” he says putting his gloved hands on his hips, “You’re going to be a bit of work aren’t you?” You glare at him, unable to talk because of the dental mold. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get you all fixed up.”



He pushes a lever on the chair, which causes you to slide backward. Your head is horizontal to the floor and he looms over you, holding what looks like a shower nozzle. He begins to hose down your hair, letting the water drain down into the floor beneath you. He holds your head as he massages shampoo into your hair. Out of the corner of your vision you can see one of the other women kneeling at your feet. You flinch as she touches your left one and begins attacking your nails with an Emory board. The other woman has rolled a cart of boxes over to your right hand side and is frantically digging through them.



“So listen sweetie,” the guy massaging your head says, “First we need to decide on a color. We’ve been asked to let you sample our dye process, but I’ll be nice this morning and let you have a choice in this. No one would be happy if we let you do anything too outrageous, but I’ll let you have a little fun. I know you can’t talk with that thing in your mouth, so just blink once for blond, twice for red, three times for chestnut or four for raven.”



You blink once, trying to comprehend what he just said to you. He wants to dye your hair? Then you realize you’ve blinked and answered his question.



“Blond, huh?” he says chuckling, “Well, you’ll be popular. At least once we get you all dolled up. You’ve really let your hygiene get a little out of control.”



You blink rapidly trying to get him to pay attention and stop what he’s doing, but he seems oblivious to your discomfort. You try talking, but it causes a nasty fluoride taste in your mouth and you quickly stop trying to make noise. It all sounded like vowels anyway. The guy rinses out your hair and begins to apply a horrible smelling application to it.



“We’ve got to bleach you,” he says, smearing in more horrible liquid. “Don’t worry, you won’t be a platinum, we’ll add some color back in.”



Your eyes water at the bleachy smell.



“We’re also going to need to give you some extensions. Your hair is WAY too short!”



The woman working on your toes begins to sand the bottom of your foot. The tickling causes you to squirm. Everyone seems unaware of your discomfort. The final woman has appeared in your line of vision and smiles down at you with a slightly condescending smile.



“You’ve really let those eyebrows get out of control, girlfriend,” she says with just the slightest suggestion of a neck roll thrown in. You’re trying to figure out what she means, when your eyes focus on the tweezers she brandishes only inches above your face. She begins attacking your brows and tears instantly well up in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Holy crap is it painful! But worst of all is the thought that has rocketed into your brain. She called you ‘girlfriend’.



They think you’re a girl!



What are they? Stupid? Just because you’re wearing the stupid robe and all your body hair has been washed away, these stupid twits think you’re a woman. If only they hadn’t put the horrible bleaching thing in your mouth. You want to give these stupid people a piece of your mind.



She seems to work on your left eyebrow forever. Hair after hair after hair painfully ripped away. Behind you, the bleach is being rinsed off. The guy mumbles to himself applying a different, bad smelling liquid which you can only assume is the hair color. There’s no sign of the woman who put the teeth whitening gel in your mouth, but the woman at your feet has moved upward and taken hold of your left hand.



“Your nails are horrible,” she says in between chews of her gum. “I’m gonna give you some fake ones. We have three kinds…so blink once if you want short, twice for medium and three times for the extra long ones.”



You can’t believe this is happening. They’re making you look like a girl! How did you end up in this situation? You wish you could say something. ANYTHING!



The woman working on your brows, plucks what feels like a dozen hairs in one pull and your eyes pour down tears. You blink them away as best you can, realizing only after you’ve done it that the woman took that as the answer to her question.



“Long it is,” she laughs. “I had mine this length for a few months, but it’s just so hard to do anything. I’m sure you’ll get used to them though.”



You try to pull your hand away from her, but she has it in a death grip and begins applying a sticky substance to each nail. The woman working on your brows finally stops, takes a deep breath and then plunges back in on the other one. Your whole forehead is aching from the process and your heart skips a beat as you think about how much she must have shaped the first one. It doesn’t feel like you have an eyebrow left.



You can certainly feel your hair though. Between the bleach and the dye it feels extra sensitive, not to mention the fact that the guy is pulling on big chunks of it. He must be fastening the attachments to it and you can only hope that they can be undone easily. If nothing else you can have them cut off. Hell after today maybe you’ll shave your head. Let’s see them mistake you for a girl then.



“What color nails ya’ want, honey?” the woman holding your hand asks. “We’ve got Naughty Red or School Girl Pink. Blink once or twice.”



“Can do,” she says presses hard on each fingertip as she applies the fake nails. You can’t wait till you get these women off of you just so you can rip the damn things back off again. Each one she puts on your hand makes it feel more and more alien.



The other woman finally stops attacking your brows and you feel a huge surge of relief as she sets the tweezers down. Maybe she didn’t pluck them as badly as you think she did. She comes back into your line of sight and this time carries something more horrifying than the tweezers.



She begins to rub the makeup all over your face and neck, leaving no spot untouched. You squirm around in protest, but it does no good. She proceeds to apply all manner of powders and liquids to your face. She paints your lips with a glossy color that matches your new nails. She goops black mascara all over your eyelashes. They’re so long that everytime you blink it feels like you create a gale of wind. She tints your cheeks with blush and practically pokes your eye out outlining your eye with liner.



“The good news is,” she says so sweetly that you want to punch her in the face, “this makeup is another state of the art M&R. It’s waterproof and lasts at least a month…sometimes two. It’ll save you hours everyday!”



You look up at her, eyes wide. You’re wearing makeup that won’t come off for a MONTH?



You have your eyes closed trying to deny the whole horrible situation when you feel the prick and burn in your left ear.



“I’m going to put some semi-permanent studs in your ears, all right sweetie?” she says poking something in your ear, “We’ll use some tweezers to remove them once you’re ready for bigger earrings, but for now…” you try to shake your head to get her to stop, but she easily pierces your other ear with the skill of a trained professional. “…we don’t want these healing back. Plus these little studs are ultra cute.”



“Good luck on your first day,” she says as she finishes inserting the other studded earring. “The first is always overwhelming. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”



She disappears out the door, as the other woman finishes the nails on your right hand. She moves back between your legs and begins painting your toenails with a matching color. You’re uncomfortably aware that she has a very good view up your short, pink robe. You close your legs at the knees, trying to limit the view. As your smooth thighs rub together your locked away member tries to show its appreciation, but fails and squirts a small stream of goo into your closed thighs. Just when it seems like you can’t get anymore embarrassed, something like this happens. As long as you keep your legs closed though, hopefully the woman won’t notice.



The guy working on your hair finally stops tugging on it, and raises the chair back up to the sitting position. Your new, long locks drape down in front of your face with a wet smack. It comes down to the middle of your chest in deep waves that seem completely natural.



He begins to attack it with a comb and blow dryer, adding all kinds of sprays and mists to it. It begins to fluff out and tickle the sides of your face and the back of your neck. You wonder again, not for the first time, how the hell you ended up in this position.



The girl finishes your toes almost exactly as the guy steps back and turns the blow dryer off. They both wish you a great first day and then disappear out the door, leaving you alone with nothing more than a horrible tasting mouth piece and a disturbingly feminine feeling appearance.



As if on cue, the first woman comes back in and pulls the dental mold out of your mouth. She hands you a bottle of water and tells you to rinse and spit at least ten times. You’re unsure where to spit and it must show on your face.



“Don’t worry,” she laughs, “just spit right on the floor. Everything drains, and we hose it down between clients.”



You don’t need anymore instruction. Your mouth feels horrible and tastes worse. You swish the water around in your mouth and spit. It still tastes terrible. You rinse again.



“I’ve got another appointment sweetie,” she says as you fill your mouth for the third time. “You turned out gorgeous. The Managers are gonna be all over you. Good luck today.” Then she’s gone and you’re all alone.



After the thirteenth rinse your mouth feels better, but your spirits sink. You’ve just had a complete feminine make-over. They thought you were a girl when you walked in so you can only imagine what you look like now! You feel a desperate need to find a mirror and see what they’ve done to you. More importantly, you want to find a way downstairs to get your clothes and get the hell out of this crazy place!



You jump out of the chair, wincing at how delicate and sensitive your feet are. The woman sanded off all of your calluses and the wet tile floor causes them to tingle as if they were dipped in seltzer water. You’re uncomfortably aware of the goo that is slowly dripping down your thigh. Your penis throbs again in its restraint and you feel a desperate need for relief. Despite the indignities that have been thrust upon you, you’re beyond horny. The fact that there is nothing you can do about it only seems to make it more powerful. Another small squirt of goo gushes against your smooth thighs as they rub together. You’ve got to get the key to this horrible belt and then get out of here! But first, you’ve got to find a mirror and do damage control. You look around.



There are no mirrors.



You peer out the door and when you realize the hallway is empty, you make a break for it, rushing toward the elevators. There was a mirror on the wall in the elevator alcove. You just hope and pray no one sees you. Your new hair swishes across your face as you run and you curse under your breath at how ticklish it is.



You turn the corner and see the alcove in the distance. In seconds the end of the corridor rushes up to meet you and you find yourself face to face with a beautiful woman.



YOU!



This can’t be possible.



The woman staring out at you from the ornate wall hanging can’t be you.



And yet every move you make is mimicked by the beautiful reflection. Pain rips through your groin as your chastity belt counteracts your natural impulse. It spits in protest adding to the growing stream of liquid creeping down your thigh. The vision in front of you looks like something out of a pinup magazine. The woman’s eyes dart back and forth as she seems to study you.



Long, flowing blonde locks. Shiny pink lips. Pale, creamy skin. Long perfect fingernails. There’s even a faint trace of a blush on her cheeks. You can’t quite tell if its makeup or real. The pink satin robe only emphasizes the image. Draped around your skinny frame, you look like a Playboy model right before the big reveal.



How the hell did they do this to you? You’re a guy, for chrissake. How could they turn you into this luscious image so easily.



The girl in front of you tilts her head and looks back at you quizzically. One of delicately manicured hands goes up to touch the zirconium stud in her ear. You can’t help it. A tiny grin appears on your face, echoing on hers. She has dazzling white teeth, a smile that would melt the polar ice caps. A naughty image of what you’d like to do to this woman passes through your mind, your dick throbs in its confines and suddenly terror fills you. They’ve turned you into every man’s wet dream and you’re standing alone in a hallway, with nothing more than the thin, tiny robe covering your body.



“Well…you turned out well,” a sardonic voice says behind you. You spin around already knowing who it is.



Miss Payne chuckles at the expression on your face.



“You’re looking more like M&R material all ready.” Before you can think of running, she approaches. She looms over you, a staggeringly powerful, dark-haired office Amazon. One of her hands goes to your cheek in what would be affection coming from anyone else. For her, the gesture oozes condescension. “You’re quite the pretty little thing. Love that blonde hair. And those nails. They don’t normally make them that long. You must have asked them for those, didn’t you?”



You glare at her, fury burning out of your eyes. SHE did this to you. She knew you were a guy and intentionally let everyone think you were a woman so they would make you look this way. You can barely contain your rage.



“You did this!” you growl. “You made them turn me into a girl!”



“Didn’t take much did it?” she chuckles, grabbing your cheeks and turning your head so she can examine your makeup. You grimace as she inspects you like a piece of meat. “Besides…you’ll fit in much better with the other secretaries this way.”



You jerk your head away from her grasp.



“You are an ungrateful, little bitch, you know that?” she spits at you. “We’ve just allowed you to try out a seven hundred dollar spa session and you’re upset because we’ve made you a little more presentable.”



“You’ve made me look like a joke!” you spit back.

“You didn’t need any help from us!” She grabs your arm and begins dragging you back toward the elevator. You resist, pulling back and digging your heels in until she begins to grind the bones of your wrist so hard that you cry out.



She swipes her card and turns to you while the two of you wait for the elevator to arrive.



“A word of advice, Rita. You’re on my bad list. You’d better watch your P’s and Q’s or I’m going to make your life here a living hell!”



“Excuse me Ma’am,” you stammer, “but that’s not my name…”



She moves like a lightning bolt, slamming you hard against the elevator doors. Her face hovers only inches from yours, her eyes burning with fury.



“First of all,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper, “don’t EVER correct me!”



You whimper as she squeezes your arms so hard that you seriously doubt you’ll be able to make a fist for the rest of the day.



“And second of all…” her mouth goes right up to your ear, the words so soft that you can barely hear them. “…what is the name on your robe…”



She squeezes again and pain shoots through your arms.



She twists your arm so hard that you sob out the answer.



“Rita,” you whimper.



“And what is the name on your locker?” she asks in that same barely audible voice. Her hand slides under the robe against the bare skin. Like a snake it pinches your ass so hard that it makes you jump.



“…Rita…” you say softly.



“You’re not quite as dumb as you look,” she snarls. You try to struggle out of the woman’s grip, but she has you pinned. The woman is strong and seems to be holding you without exerting any effort at all.



“So your name is…” She squeezes your arm even harder than you thought possible. Yet still you hold back. You clench your teeth against the pain. She growls at your stubbornness and slams you against the elevator door. Your head hits it and the room starts to spin. She slams you again and the world takes on a surreal quality. “Say your name bitch…” she growls in your ear.



“…Rita…” you mutter reluctantly.



“That’s a good girl,” Miss Payne says, her evil grin wrapping all the way around her head.



She releases the death grip on your arm but keeps you pinned against the elevator door. You feel her hand on the backside of your upper thigh and the tenderness of it against your smooth skin causes goose flesh to break out on your skin. What is she doing?



The hand creeps upward tracing the curve of your rear. Your tiny, shrunken cock tries to respond and the unrelenting belt stops it. Even as it happens you can’t believe how easily your body has betrayed you. This horrible woman has turned you on with a single caress of her hand. You feel her touch snake down between your legs.



“You like this, don’t you, Rita. You’re all wet.” Your body betrays you again by spurting another unsatisfying burst down onto her fingers.



She presses her body up against yours from behind, her hand tracing the curve of your butt, spreading the sticky liquid on your skin. Her lips practically touch your ear.



“Tell me your name again,” she whispers seductively, her voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up. She takes your ear lobe between her lips and bites. Pain and pleasure fill your senses.



“Rita ,” you mumble unable to stop the pleasure radiating through your body from her gentle caress. It’s not just your trapped penis that’s throbbing now…it’s your whole body.



“A stupid name, fit for a stupid girl,” she mutters as she releases her death grip on you. The elevator doors slide open and you stagger through them. She strides in and swipes her card as you try to wedge yourself as far into the corner of the car as possible. The doors shut with a scary finality and the elevator begins to descend.



You follow Miss Payne as she leads you back down the hallway to the break room. The door shuts and you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally! You can change out of this despicable, pink robe and back into your normal clothes. Maybe now you can figure out a way to undo the atrocities this woman has done to you.



You hurry over to the locker. Your long, blonde hair swishes into your face and tickles the back of your neck. The smooth skin of your thighs tingles as your legs brush against each other. Every move you make seems to emphasize the changes forced upon you.



You fumble with the latch on the locker. The horrible, pink nails prevent you from doing the simplest of tasks. Even opening your locker takes the utmost concentration and dexterity.



Finally you wiggle it open.



Your clothes aren’t there.



You look up at the name to double check that you’ve opened the right one. The locker reads: Rita.



Your clothes are gone. In their place sits a shrink-wrapped package. Did they dry clean your clothes? You glance back at Miss Payne. She seems completely oblivious to you, all of her attention focused on one of her short-cropped nails. Without looking up she mutters, “Put your clothes on, girl. I don’t have all day!”



A bad feeling settles into the pit of your stomach as you open the plastic package in your locker. You suspect that you already know what this is.



Your suspicions are confirmed. This bitch expects you to wear the same outfit that the secretary downstairs has on!



You stare down at the disturbing garments that you’re expected to wear. Your brain seems to have gone into hiding, not wanting anything to do with your current situation.



Miss Payne rolls her eyes theatrically.



“Jesus,” she quips, “It’s like you’ve never gotten dressed before.”



She walks over to you and snatches the package out of your hands.



“Take your robe off.”



Sheepishly, you slip the robe off your shoulders and hang it on the hook in your locker. You honestly can’t remember having been more embarrassed than this. Your skin glows from the lotion of the massage, emphasized by the lack of even a single hair. You cover your asexual crotch with your hands as if you had any modesty left.



She pulls out the first item in the bag and holds it up. You shiver.



“Some girls don’t need this,” she says to you, wrapping the waist cincher around your middle and fastening it in the back, “but you need the extra shaping.”



You feel the breath get forcibly pushed out of you as she yanks hard at the cords behind your back. She pulls again and you almost topple over, stopping yourself only by grabbing onto the table. Again she pulls and you drag the table a few inches trying to not fall over.



You can’t breathe.



She yanks one more time and you get light headed. You try to take a deep breath and fail. Try again and start to panic. Then a tiny gasp of air gets through. Then another. Your heart-rate begins to calm as you realize that you can breathe if you take small, gaspy breaths. Standing up straight seems to help, but even then you don’t know how she expects you to wear this horrible garment. You still feel light headed and your midsection aches at the constriction. You look down at the horrible thing and see that it’s pulled your waist in dramatically. It makes you look very curvy, emphasizing your rounded ‘girlish’ hips.



“That’ll have to do for now,” she says, “I expect to take another inch out next week, so watch your diet.”



You try to gasp an objection, but Miss Payne ignores your gasping and digs out the next item in the bag. You shake your head in horror. This can’t be happening.



She pushes your arms through the straps and fastens it in back. The lacy red bra adheres to your chest as if it has suction cups in the front.



“This is another M & R patent,” she says turning you around to face her. She sticks a finger between your skin and the center of the bra. She fiddles around in there for a moment and you feel a sudden horrible suction on your chest.



“This thing is made for girls like you, Rita.”



The cups seem to be inflating. The suction is pushing your chest muscles together into a tiny line of cleavage, even as the expanding cups continue to grow. You stare up at Miss Payne in horror. She’s giving you breasts!



“So what do you think?” she asks you, smirking her horrible smirk, “That’s about an A cup. Want bigger ones?”



You shake your head frantically. She laughs.



“The guys all like ‘em big, Rita. But I’ll let you find that out on your own.”



You stare down at the tiny, but undisguisable breasts jutting off of your chest. Your chest is bound so tightly that the cleavage line down the center of your chest looks completely natural.



You shake your head miserably, unable to stop seeing the tiny mounds that peek out of the top of the garment. Unable to help yourself, your hands find the new objects that jut out on your chest. They even feel real.



“Expandable gel,” the horrible woman says in response to your unasked question, “Not much we can do with those tiny titties of yours, but maybe if you’re a good girl, M & R will buy you a bigger, REAL pair.”



You gaze at her in disbelief. Oh GOD! You stand up straight, which helps to alleviate some of the weight your chest now carries. Your new A-cup breasts jut out in front of you. Worse the satiny material has caused your nipples to harden. They poke through the front fabric of the material as if trying to cut through it.



“You are gonna be REAL popular, Rita.” She chuckles and you feel your blood run cold.



You’re still boggling over your new chest as she pulls out a lacy, black garter belt and wraps it around your waist. It sits atop your cinched in waist as if it was meant to go there. The straps dangle against your thighs, with a slightly pleasant, tickly sensation. Your encased manhood offers another throb and squirt of encouragement. You feel an increasingly desperate need to go relieve yourself. How can you be this wet between your legs and not be getting any pleasure from the emission? You’ve got to get this belt off!



Miss Payne is pulling little half-egg shaped containers out of the plastic bag and setting them on the table.



“I’ll let you choose your stockings. After all, that’s a very personal decision for a girl.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. She’s enjoying this. She’s getting off on turning you into a prettier and prettier woman. You dread where this is going. But there doesn’t seem to be much alternative.



You look at the eggs, trying to figure out which kind of stockings will be the least offensive.



You open the egg marked ‘sheer’ and pull out the silky material.



“There are punishments for torn stockings, bitch,” Miss Payne growls behind you, “So I’d be careful if I were you. Unless you WANT to be punished.” This causes a shiver up your spine. You look again at the thin material and think that you possibly made a mistake. You’re not sure you can put these on, especially with the long, pink nails. Beside you, Miss Payne clears her throat. You quickly plop down on a chair and begin to work a stocking up your leg.



Miss Payne gives you an exasperated look.



“Bunch them up and then roll them up your legs, you twit,” she growls. You start over trying to do what she said and manage to get the silky thing onto your leg. It takes you a few seconds to figure out how to connect the garter straps, but finally you get the top of stockings secured with the clasp. The second one goes on quicker.



You stand up, proud of yourself for not having ripped the material. Miss Payne does not seem impressed. She just digs through the bag for whatever degrading article of clothing that is next. You take the opportunity to look down at your legs.



The stockings turn your smooth legs into an amazingly sexy feature. The material clings to you like a second skin, giving your legs a longer, more sleek look. The straps on the garter belt are pulled tight against your thighs, emphasizing the femininity that wraps your body.



Then you see the panties that your tormenter has withdrawn from the bag and you silently wish for death.



“What color do you want, Rita?” she asks, holding each one up for you to see, “Slutty RED, hot PINK, or BLACK satin?” She grins at you maliciously as you stare at the thin fragments of fabric in her hands.



You slide the lacy, pink panties up your legs, shivering as the soft material caresses the sheer stockings. They’re not even fully on, before another pleasure less burst of liquid escapes the chastity belt. The underwear catches the release and you feel the icky goo soak into the fabric and press against your legs. At least its not going to drip down your thigh now.



The panties have ruffles around the leg holes, which tickle your inner thighs with every move you make. The rest of the garment is streamlined, hugging your new curves like a layer of skin. It covers the infernal chastity belt completely, the back clinging to the crack of your ass as if it were holding on for dear life.



Miss Payne stands back and looks at you, as if she’s appraising a piece of meat.



“You are a knockout, Rita,” she says, “Guys are gonna kill to get into your panties.”



You bow your head in shame. You have a bad feeling that she’s right. Even without a mirror, you can tell that your figure is to die for.



“Luckily you’re wearing your panties outside of the garter belt. That way they’re…easily removable.”



You shiver. The idea of wearing frilly underwear that’s easy to take off, doesn’t seem to be a reassuring thought right at this moment.



She strides over to you and you shrink away from her, but the room is small that there’s really no where to go. She presses you up against the locker. Her body is so tight against you that you can feel the warmth of her skin through her suit.



“You are gonna be one hot bitch,” she says, her face only inches from yours. One of her hands touches your right breast and then slowly travels down your body until its between your legs. Her mouth goes to the side of your face and her lips press against your skin. “You like this, don’t you?” she whispers into your ear. You shake your head, “Your panties say differently, Rita. You’re all wet.”



Her middle finger begins to rub your crotch through the silky material. Her hand slides further between your legs, her fingers finding the back of the belt. They make tight little circles on the sensitive spot between where your cock is now confined and where your ass begins. Your whole body tingles. You arch your back, unable to help yourself. Your new breasts press against hers.



Her finger moves faster between your legs and you’re both horrified and relieved to feel a sexual climax nearing. Your thighs clamp around her hand, begging her without words to keep going.



“Now tell me the truth,” she whispers, letting her tongue tickle your ear, “Do you like this?”



“Yes…” you moan softly. You’re so close to orgasm that you can feel it in every molecule of your body.



“You like being dressed like this?” she asks. Her other hand has moved around behind you and is squeezing your left ass cheek, the nails digging almost painfully into your flesh. You barely notice. The hand between your legs has your full attention. The word escapes your lips without a single thought.



“Yes…”



“You like what I’m doing to you” she whispers. Again you answer, if only to keep her finger moving.



“Yes…”



“You like being a girl, don’t you?”



The orgasm builds to a peak and you moan the word loudly.



“YES!”



Then liquid spurts out onto her finger and into your frilly pink panties. There is no pleasure, no sense of satisfaction. Only a sticky gooey mess. If anything, you’re hornier now than you were only a minute ago. Her hand trails out from between your legs with a slimy hairline stream still connected to it. You want to scream with frustration. You’re hornier than ever. That horrible chastity belt denied you any pleasure. In fact, the orgasm only seemed to intensify your wantonness. You look at Miss Payne with pleading eyes.



“Please…” you whimper “Please take the belt off…”



She puts a finger to your lips, silencing your begging. She traces your painted lips with the finger and you realize she’s rubbing your own cum on your mouth. You pull your head away and she laughs.



“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” She pushes away from you and heads back to the table and the dreaded uniform bag. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can still taste the residual saltiness of your own juices on your lips.



“If you’re a good girl, I might let you out of that belt after lunch,” she says pulling a white shirt out of the bag and handing it to you, “If you’re a bad girl, you can wear the thing for a week for all I care.”



The true power this woman has over you suddenly drops into your head like a ton of bricks. She has the key to your penis. She can keep you in this thing for as long as she wants to and there isn’t anything you can do about it. You feel like crying.



You slip the blouse on and fumble with the buttons. They’re on the wrong side and the nasty long fingernails on your hands keep getting in the way. Miss Payne watches your struggle with amusement. The shirt feels too tight, hugging your tiny waist and your new bosom. The sleeves are too short, showing off your smooth arms. You’re even further dismayed to see the outline of the red bra visible through the thin white material.



“Now fair warning, Rita,” Miss Payne says as you finish the buttons, “Your supervisor in the secretarial pool has the right to remove one button from your blouse for every major mistake that you make. Most of you sluts love to show off their tits, but if you want to remain modest…you’d better do what you’re told.”



She has to be joking? The managers can cut buttons off of your shirt? Your mind flashes back to Nikki, from downstairs. Your first thought had been that she was an exhibitionist. Dear God! That could be you!



“If you run out of buttons, you’re required to buy a new blouse. These things cost what you make in a day, so if you’re smart you’ll keep your mouth shut unless a manager finds a reason for you to open it.”



You cringe at the crude innuendo of that statement.



You’re so wrapped up in thought that the skirt almost hits you in the face. You catch it out of the air at the last minute and worm your way into it. It barely fits over your hips, but zips easily up your cinched waist. The pleated bottom twirls around your stocking-covered legs, caressing them with your every breath.



Miss Payne instructs you to tuck the blouse in and you do so quickly. The threat of button removal and the promise of getting out of the horrible chastity belt has you as meek as a mouse. The blouse presses ever tighter against your breasts now that its tucked in. You look down at them and see the writing that hugs the curve of your left chest.



“Rita: How may I make your day better?”



You have a feeling that just looking like you do could make some guys have a better day. The thought frightens you almost as much as the objects Miss Payne holds in her hands.



She’s got to be kidding! How does she expect you to walk in those things?



You sit back down and cram your feet into the constricting, black footwear, your toes screaming as they compress into the pointed tip. The heel looks to be about two inches high, but is so slender you wonder how you’re going to stand up. The straps around your ankle end in a small clasp that you fiddle with until you finally get them strapped on. You marvel at how small they make your feet look. Then again with how uncomfortable they are, you’re not THAT surprised. They feel two sizes too small.



“Stand up,” Miss Payne barks and you wobble to your feet. She kneels in front of you and before you realize what she’s up to, she fastens a tiny silver padlock to the clasp on your right ankle. She grabs your right foot before you can pull it away and puts a similar lock on that one. She stands up and looks at you approvingly.



“Sluts like you need to keep your fuck-me shoes on at all times,” she cackles, “After you learn to walk in these, we’ll get you a higher heel. Maybe then you can look me in the eye.” She laughs again and you realize you’re still shorter than her even in the heels. Your knees feel weak and you take a tentative step and almost fall over. How are you going to walk anywhere in these? And when is she going to let you take them off?

While you wobble around trying to get your ‘sea legs’, Miss Payne pulls a final item out of the bag. She fastens the tiny lace collar with the heart pendant around your neck. It constricts around your neck just short of painfully and when you clear your throat it comes out higher and softer than your regular voice. You look at Miss Payne miserably.



“There,” she says, pressing a finger to the tiny heart on your neck, “That ought to hide the last remnant of maleness from everybody. And this…” she uses her fingernail to click a small button on the heart. The thing begins to vibrate ever so slightly against your neck. “That will help you sound just a little more breathless. Congratulations, Rita, you make one hell of a fine looking secretary.”



This does not make you feel good. You shift uncomfortably from one leg to another in the constricting shoes, feeling the panty ruffles tickle your thighs. You wish you could go back in time and stop yourself from ever coming to this hellish place.



“Ready to start your training, Rita?” She uses that horrible name again and you realize that you’re starting to automatically respond it.



“If you need to go to the bathroom, go now!” she commands, picking up the phone off the wall and punching in a number.



As you carefully wobble your way to the bathroom, you realize that you actually DO have to go. But the main reason for the trip to the water closet is so you can catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Despite the horror of your situation, you’re morbidly curious about what you look like. Each step you take causes your clothing and hair to swish and rub against your sensitive skin, but its impossible to tell how you actually look without a mirror.



As the door closes to the bathroom, conditioning kicks in and you have to rush to the stall. There’s a moment of panic as you reach for your dick underneath your skirt and realize that it isn’t there. Then you remember the chastity belt. How are you supposed to pee? You feel down in between your legs and find the tiny hole Miss Payne had rubbed between your legs. So you CAN pee, but you have to sit down to do it. With a fresh wash of embarrassment, you pull the tight pink panties down to your ankles and sit on the toilet, letting the liquid flow out of your crotch in a manner consistent with the opposite sex.



You wonder briefly about the other type of bathroom function. With very little effort, you manage to pull the strap running up your ass crack to one side. It looks like this belt was designed to let you have full bathroom capabilities. At least that’s something. You can feel the residual moisture inside the belt and dab at it with toilet paper mortified at having to wipe yourself like a girl. You take the opportunity to mop your panties out as well, getting the soaking fabric as dry as possible.



You step out of the stall and see the stunning woman in the mirror above the sink. For a moment you think this woman is someone who has come in to pee. Then the realization strikes. Its YOU!



Part of you was afraid that the image in the mirror would reflect a man dressed up in women’s clothing. What you see is almost worse. Looking back at you is a sexy woman dressed in one of the most provocative outfits imaginable. Your member strains against the unyielding chastity belt at the sight of this goddess. Your mind starts running through perverse acts of what you want to do to this woman, while at the same time cringing at the thought of having those things done to YOU!



Your long, slender legs seem endless in the sheer stockings, before they tuck their way into the swishy black skirt. You turn slightly and the hemline swirls up to reveal the garter straps and the barest glimpse of exposed thigh. There’s another sharp pain inside the belt as the woman in the mirror puts on this show for you.



Your waist is impossibly tapered and, looking at your figure, you’re not surprised at all that you can barely breathe. Small, perfectly formed orbs strain at the thin material of your shirt as if they want release from the cotton restraints. The bra holding them back doesn’t even attempt to hide behind the white material covering it.



Another throb inside the belt.



The writing on your chest causes the pretty girl in the mirror to blush as she reads it. This woman looks like she has hundreds of tricks to make someone’s day better.



The girl strikes another pose and you’re amazed as the vision in front of you mimics your every action. You feel the soft caress of the sheer stockings as your legs move against each other. Without warning, a tiny dribble of liquid squirts into your panties. You don’t think you’ve ever been hornier in your life. The desperate look of need in the face of the blonde haired girl in the mirror only makes your horniness worse. The girl looks like she’s in heat. A horny slut willing to do anything for sex. Her face is flushed. Her pupils dilated. This is a desperate woman. You shiver as gooseflesh pimples your flesh. Any guy that sees you is going to be all over you. Despite your growing horror, your member shoots another worthless spurt.



You go back to the stall and wipe the creamy liquid out of the pink panties again. A huge wash of dismay sweeps over you. Seeing yourself dressed like this has gotten you incredibly turned on, despite the shame and humiliation you feel of being so easily made up to look like a woman. You want, or rather you NEED desperately, to relieve yourself…to get rid of this sexual tension. The last thing you want people to think is that you ENJOY looking like this. You try to work a finger up inside of the chastity belt, but the thing keeps your probing feminine finger at bay. You try rubbing yourself through it. You’re rewarded with a slight tingling and another squirt of liquid that comes out with absolutely no pleasure. You feel like screaming in frustration.



You stand up and pull the panties back into place, the tickling frills of the lace on your thighs causing you to instantly squirt another shot into them. Still no pleasure. No release. You stamp your foot allowing yourself a tiny tantrum at the uncomfort of this situation. Every move you make seems to cause your trapped member to want to spit in protest and there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do about it. How are you going to get through the day when everything you do causes your panties to get damper and damper. For a moment the idea crosses your mind to ask Miss Payne to undo your belt so you can relieve yourself. Then the notion of explaining why you need to remove the belt to her flashes through your head and you instantly abandon the idea. You definitely don’t want her thinking you like looking like this.



“What’s going on in there?” the horrible woman hollers in to you, “Hurry up. I don’t have all day!”



“C’mon,” Miss Payne says, practically pushing you out the door into the hallway. You shudder with fear as it dawns on you that other people are going to see you now. And not just women. Men are going to see you dressed like a teenage boy’s wet dream. Your legs get even more wobbly then they were.



“Move your ass back and forth more,” she mutters behind you, “It helps with the balance.” Desperate to not fall on your ass, you move it back and forth as she suggested. It helps a little, even as it emphasizes the material riding up your ass cheeks. As you move you have to move your hands differently as you walk in order to keep your balance. You feel like a caricature of a woman. A cartoon sex drawing like Jessica Rabbit or Betty Boop.



Miss Payne leads you down to hall to the elevator. With every step you take, the lacy panties tickle your crotch. The wetness down there only further humiliates you, yet as the skirt swishes across your silky legs they grow damper still. You’re finding it really hard to focus on anything other than the erotic stimulation this outfit is inflicting on you.



She swipes her card and the elevator arrives promptly. You step inside, but Miss Payne doesn’t. She just leans in, swipes her card and presses the 12 button. Then she leans back out of the elevator.



“Enjoy your training, Rita,” she says as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, “I expect an obedient little girl after lunch.”



Then she’s gone and you’re left alone in an elevator that is rocketing upward.



It doesn’t get to twelve before it stops.



On the tenth floor the car slows down and you feel like you’re about to explode from nervous energy. Your legs are shaking and it’s only partly because of the heels.



The woman who steps into the elevator isn’t dressed anything like you. She wears a smart looking suit, with a skirt that goes down to her calves. You wish, for a brief moment, that you could have had an outfit like hers instead of the tarty thing you’re in now. Then you decide that if you’re going to be wishing, you might as well wish not to be dressed like a woman at all.



The woman gets into the elevator and gives you the once over while she fishes for a keycard in her bag. You stand awkwardly, not exactly sure what to do with your hands. She chuckles under her breath at your obvious discomfort.



“First day, huh?” she says still rooting in her purse. You mumble assent, aware that your voice seems even higher due to the blasted vibrating collar. The woman doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual about you at all.



“Don’t worry, cutie,” she says as she finds the elusive plastic card, “With a body like yours, you got nothing to worry about around here.”



She swipes the card and the doors begin to slide shut. She sidles up next to you, invading your personal space. You step away, but in the closed elevator there’s no where to go.



She runs her fingers through your hair, inspecting it.



“Love that blonde hair,” she mutters and then yanks it so your head is pulled side ways. You cry out in pain, but she ignores you, continuing her examination as if you were a car she was thinking of renting.



With the hand not holding your hair, she grabs your face and puckers your mouth. She peers in at your teeth, nodding with approval.



“Good teeth, nice eyes…”



She grabs your left breast.



“Small up top, but that’s easily fixable.” She spins you around effortlessly. You’re so taken off guard, you don’t even have time to resist. You struggle to maintain your balance even as her hand grabs your ass. You jump in surprise and she laughs.



“And you’re obviously still fresh. The girls around here get jaded so quick…And that blonde hair…you’d be surprised how many clients ask for that…”



What the hell is she talking about? And why is she treating you like a piece of meat?



The elevator dings and still she keeps you pressed to the wall of the car, examining your ass and legs with a keen eye.



“All right, Rita,” she says reading the name off of your breast, “You tell your supervisor that Miss Worthington is interested. Got it?” You nod, grateful that she’s moved away from you a little. You don’t know what that was all about, but you’re ready to be off this elevator. You smile a polite smile at the woman, and then hurry for the door, wiggling your butt back and forth as you go to keep your balance. The door shuts behind you and you breathe a sigh of relief. At least until you see the girl standing in front of you.



She’s dressed almost identically to the outfit you’re in. Her pale skin shimmers next to her white shirt. Her hair is blonde and razor-straight, tucked behind her ear in a way that emphasizes her cuteness. She looks at you and smirks at the bewildered look on your face. You feel a wave of dislike wash over you towards this girl, even as your eyes continue to take in her beauty.



“Are you Rita?” she asks, her voice small and almost non-existent.



“Yeah, I’m Rita,” you say. It’s scary how easily that name trips off your tongue now. You grind your teeth. You can’t wait to get out of this place. Once again it occurs to you, that your voice is way too high and girlie. It shouldn’t have been this easy for them to turn you into this. You’re a guy, for chrissake.



“Follow me,” the girl in front of you says. Her voice is barely audible and she hurries down the hallway not looking back to see if you’re coming. You race after her, almost twisting your ankle in the blasted shoes, trying to keep up. She gets to the destination door, puts her hand on the knob, but doesn’t open it until you get there.



“Good luck, Rita,” she says softly. You look at the name stenciled on her shirt.



“Thanks, Becky,” you say. You wonder for a second if that’s HER real name. Then the door opens and you follow her inside.



The room is small and instantly makes you feel claustrophobic. There are five tiny desks with chairs, each one with an antique looking manual typewriter on top of it. Becky instantly rushes toward the one on the end and begins typing frantically as if her life depended on it. Your eyes drift toward the front of the room and you see a man in a suit, sitting behind his desk looking at you with intense blue eyes. It is not a pleasant look. You shiver at the idea of being dressed this way in front of a man like this. You feel naked. Worse than naked.



“Well?” he growls at you. You jump at his voice. “Choose a desk and sit down, girl…We’re not paying you to stand there idle.” You’re beginning to understand Becky’s nervousness. You’ve been in the room maybe three seconds and just the presence of this man has you on edge.



You dash to a desk and sit down. The chair is horribly uncomfortable. It’s too low and the seat feels like it has a ridge down the center that pushes your underwear further into your ass. Sitting here is like giving yourself a perpetual wedgie. Worse is the pebbled texture of the seat which seems to cling to your skirt pulling it up as you sit. You yank the garment back down, embarrassed by the glimpse of thigh that you just showed the man in the suit. The gleam in his eye says he not only noticed, but approved of the indecency.



He walks over beside you and stands a little too close. You turn to look at him and realize that the low seat puts you eye level with his crotch. You quickly turn back away, face flushed.



“So you’re Rita,” he says looming beside you, “Miss Payne says you’re gonna be a pain in the ass. You better hope she’s misjudged you.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans down so his face is beside yours. You cringe away from his touch. “Let me tell you something, Rita. Don’t mess with me. I have a very short temper and if you cause me any grief you’re gonna have a lot bigger problem than a few buttons missing on your shirt. Isn’t that right, Becky?”



From across the room, Becky says quickly and clearly, “Yes, Mr. Kail.” He turns back to you.



“Becky’s a lazy slut, but she knows when to speak and when to keep her trap shut! Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Rita?”



“Yes, Mr. Kail,” you say in a perfect imitation of Becky. He smiles, one of his hands caressing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. You try not to flinch away from the touch, but you can’t help it. His thumb traces your lower lip before the hand moves away. You shudder. Just his touch has made you feel violated somehow.



“Good girl,” he says as if you were an obedient dog, “All right. Put a sheet of paper in your machine and type the following paragraph.”



You scramble with the paper next to the typewriter. The nails that jut out from the end of your fingers keep you from being able to grab one of the sheets and he begins talking before you even have the machine ready. You curse internally, wondering why a high tech company like this isn’t using word processors. Maybe you’ll get to use one of those after you finish your training.



“Hurry up girl. Paragraph One. My name is Rita. New line.” You type in the words, dismayed at how slow you have to go because of the pink talons on your fingers. You’re only half finished with the sentence when he starts the next one.



“I am an air-headed secretary. I don’t think. I do what I’m told. New line.” You frantically try to catch up, your mind racing as the words slowly appear on the page in front of you. What kind of training is this? The nails keep you from going fast enough and he starts the next paragraph before you finish the one you’re on.



“I don’t ask questions. I don’t complain. My mouth is not for speaking. New line.” You type the sentences as fast as you can, wincing as your long nails cause you to type ‘complain’ as ‘cfomplain’. You’re not completely sure you got the sentences in the right order. Why is he going this fast? Can’t he see that you’re having trouble?



“I am seen, not heard. I like to be seen. I like to look sexy. New paragraph.”



With a quick confused glance at Mr. Kail, you type it in, trying to remember it long enough to get it onto the paper. Your eyes scan back over the paragraph. This has to be a joke! Some sort of office prank. What kind of training is this?



“Those are your rules to learn this morning, Rita. I want that paragraph typed on twenty five pages, eight to a page. Got it?”



“Yes, Mr. Kail,” you say, your voice already sounding recorded. You hit the Enter button twice to cue up the next paragraph. You hope you’ve transcribed it right. This is not the kind of man you want to have angry at you!



You type in the words, “My name is Rita.” The pink talons cause another stupid typo. You hope they’re not judging you on this stupid exercise. To your left, you hear Becky tap, tap, tapping away at her own typewriter. It sounds like she’s doing short sentences like yours. You wonder if she has the same assignment.



You finish the sentence. This is the dumbest training exercise you’ve ever had. These sentences are barely above an elementary school primer and they’re horribly demeaning. What exactly does this brute want you to learn by doing this?



You type in the second line. Another typo. These blasted nails. You’ll have to go slower.



You shift in the uncomfortable seat, trying to maneuver the chastity belt and the frilly underwear out of your butt crack. You don’t succeed. The tickling ruffles of your panties do manage to summon another throb from your encased cock though.



You type in the third line. God this seat is uncomfortable. You shift again, and the rough texture underneath you causes your skirt to ride back up. You look down and see a peek of thigh in your lap and try to shift again to get it to disappear. You only succeed in working your skirt up further.



This is unbearable.



You stop typing and pull your skirt back down.



“Is there a problem, Rita?” Mr. Kail asks in the most condescending voice imaginable, “I told you to type, not to play with your outfit. If you take those hands off of the keys again before you’re finished, I’ll make sure you don’t HAVE an outfit to play with.”



You squeak with fear. He wouldn’t dare try to undress you. Would he?



Best not to take any chances. Your hands fly back up to the keys and to the fourth sentence.



There. One paragraph done. This isn’t that hard. If only the seat wasn’t SO uncomfortable. You type the paragraph again. Then again. By the fifth page it’s ingrained in your memory. By the tenth, you know them by heart.



Your skirt has ridden up again, but Mr. Kail’s threat wins out over your instinct to correct it. Every second that ticks by makes you aware of the ridge in the center of the seat. It feels like the chair has a line in it that actually contours to the curve of your ass. It’s like they want you to be uncomfortable. You wiggle around unable to help yourself, wincing as your skirt rides further up and the ridge climbs further between your ass cheeks. There is more than just a glimpse of your thigh showing now. Your eyes flash over to where Mr. Kail is sitting, and the leer he is giving you proves that he has noticed your skirt problems. You shiver. He’s checking you out!

Halfway through page eighteen, Becky stops typing and raises one hand up in the air as if she was in elementary school. She looks up hopefully at Mr. Kail. He lets her sit there for a minute before saying, “All done, Becky?”



“Yes, Mr. Kail.” Her voice singsongs the words.



“Bring them up here and let me see.” he barks. Becky springs to her feet and minces up to Mr. Kail’s desk. You can’t help but watch her ass sway back and forth as she goes. The way those heels make her walk makes your mouth water. Then you remember that you have to walk that same way and another cold chill runs up your spine.



You continue to type, but your eyes are on Becky as she reaches Mr. Kail’s desk. He pats his legs with his hand and you can barely contain your surprise as she sits across his lap. This place is insane! One of his hands rests on the small of her back, while the other is on her knee. She holds the papers at a good reading level for him and he peruses the first page.



“Say your lesson, Becky,” he says. The hand on her leg moves upward slightly to rest just above the knee. Becky recites the words she has typed without looking at them.



“My name is Becky.



I do what I’m told. I don’t know what is best. I need to be corrected.



I’m here to serve. I live to please. I love to give.



I need to be watched. I like to be touched. I love to be used.”



You may have imagined it, but you think you hear a slight quiver in her voice on those last words, her eyes wet with moisture. You look down at the words you’re typing and realize the similarity. You’ve memorized yours as well. You’ve typed these stupid simple sentences so many times that you don’t even have to look back to know what comes next. They are training you! They’re training you to become more and more like Becky. Docile. Obedient. Submissive.



Mr. Kail seems pleased. The hand on her back pats her ass affectionately while the hand on her leg seems to have disappeared under the hem of her skirt. This man is a sexual PIG! Becky squirms as his hand nears her crotch but she makes no effort to get off of his lap.



“Good job, Becky, only eight typos.” His voice is filled with good cheer. “I think this might be your last week of training.” Her eyes gleam with hope. “How many weeks have you been training with me, Becky? You may speak.”



Her answer is clear and concise, “Five!”



Five weeks! Five weeks of doing these stupid exercises with the pig every morning? You’re going to go insane.



He smacks her ass hard enough to make her squeal and jump off of his lap. He jots a quick note on a piece of paper and hands it to her.



“I’ll let you go get the three of us lunch today, Becky. You’ve earned a little freedom I’d say.” Excitement fills her eyes. The poor girl must have such a boring life to get excited over taking a lunch order. “I’ll have my usual. You and Rita will have salads. Get going girl!” He smacks her on the ass again. She scuttles from the room and disappears out the door and down the hall.



His eyes fall on you and you quickly turn your attention back to your typing.



“Rita,” he growls, “Bring the pages you have finished up to me right now!”



Flustered, you grab the pages and quickly wobble your way to the front. He pats his legs the same as he did for Becky. He can’t be serious? He wants you to sit on his lap!?!



“This can’t be happening,” you think as you find yourself sitting awkwardly across his lap. Your skirt bunches up again, riding up high enough to show off your pink underwear. You squirm trying to fix it but his hand clamps down on your knee, chilling you into stillness. The heat from his hand radiates through the stocking. You feel his other hand on your back, equally warm through the thin material of your blouse. Your arm goes around his neck for balance which unfortunately makes you press your body against his. You can smell his cologne, a husky man smell that contrasts sharply to the fruity odor that emanates from your freshly exfoliated skin. He’s so much bigger than you that you feel completely overwhelmed by his bulk.



A sudden thought occurs to you. Miss Payne talked to him about you, but did she mention that you’re actually a guy? You wonder if he knows. You’re mentally torn as to whether you want him to know the truth or not. On one hand, if he knows you’re a guy, he has still insisted that you sit on his lap. At the same time, if he doesn’t know and then finds out, you could be in serious trouble. You don’t think this is a man who likes surprises. You begin to shiver with your predicament and the hand on your knee squeezes gently.



“You’re doing well, Rita.” he says, his voice soft and surprisingly sweet, “I’m only mean to you if you do something bad. When you’re a good girl, you have nothing to worry about.” The hand on your leg begins to move back and forth slowly…soothingly. You don’t like the way this is going, yet at the same time, the soft stroking on your leg causes another tiny squirt of liquid to fill your panties.



“Now let’s see your papers,” he says, his tone jovial. You hold them up for him, much as Becky did, and await his response.



“Let’s see what we have here,” Mr. Kail says eyeballing the page in front of him. His hand continues to stroke your stocking-clad leg. “The first sentence is good. At least you’re smart enough to know your name.” He smiles at you, as if this is a compliment.



“No, no, no,” he says, his voice once again reverting to the master scolding a pet, “You’ve got the second line all screwed up. Every time too. Stupid Bitch! That’s ten points off.” You don’t like the sound of that.



“What is this? You really are a stupid airhead aren’t you,” he asks, not expecting an answer. “You’ve got the third line all messed up. I can’t forgive this. Your score is ten points lower.” He ‘tsks’ under his breath, the hand on your back sliding down to your ass and smacking it pertly. You ‘Yip’ in surprise and he chuckles at your discomfort, his hand staying on your ass.



“The fourth line is perfect.” The hand on your butt squeezes and you wriggle uncomfortably. This can’t be legal. You can’t treat people this way and get away with it.



“These really aren’t bad for your first day, Rita,” the brute says, patting your leg. The final pat lands his hand a little further up your leg. You shiver, unable to help yourself. You are all too aware of what you look like, right now. The last thing that you need is to be on the lap of a sex-obsessed man!



“Say your lesson, Rita,” he says. His hand is on your bare thigh now. Oh god, you can feel the throbbing beast beneath you. Without thinking you spout off the sentences you typed over and over. They come out perfectly and you weren’t even focused on them.



“Good girl,” he says. Before you know it’s happening, you feel his lips press against your cheek in a soft, gentle kiss. The corner of his mouth touches the corner of yours and you flinch away. The man just kissed you! Your mind is reeling as Mr. Kail’s eyes go back to the pages still in your hand.



“Six obvious typos on page one. I’m sure you’ll do better tomorrow morning.” Ha. You made fewer mistakes than Becky. Wait. Tomorrow? Oh Hell. Surely you won’t have to do this for five weeks like Becky. Right? If only you could quit this job. But you can’t…not until you get this stupid chastity belt off and find some regular clothes.



“You’re a lucky girl, Rita, most new trainees get 40 or 50 spanks on their first day. 26 should be a piece of cake.”



Your brain takes a moment to digest this. Spanks? What is he talking about? You look up at him questioningly, but his attention is diverted by Becky traipsing into the room with three lunch containers.



“Perfect timing, Becky,” he says. He puts you on your feet as if you were no more than a rag doll for him to play with. “Let’s go ahead and get your spankings out of the way girls, that way we can enjoy a nice pleasant lunch together. What do you say?” Instinctively you don’t respond. You don’t think this was an actual question.



“Becky would you be kind enough to show our new trainee the proper receiving posture?”



You watch with horror as Becky pulls her skirt up to her hips. She leans forward to ensure it will stay, and then puts her elbows down on Mr. Kail’s desk. Her pale thighs practically glow against her stockings and dark, satin underpants. There’s a surge of pain in your chastity belt from the sight of this woman’s exposed ass. At the same time, your heart tries to tear itself from your chest in the fearful knowledge that you’ll be expected to assume the same position.



“Rita, I’m going to let you do the honors,” Mr. Kail said stepping around the desk to watch the proceedings, “She had eight typos, which means eight smacks. Make them good ones. Lessons aren’t learned from leniency.”



You can’t believe this. He expects you to spank this woman eight times for mis-typing a couple of words. Worse yet, the odds are good that Becky is going to spank you for your mistakes. If you spank her hard, she’ll probably retaliate, but if you don’t spank her hard enough, Mr. Kail could punish you! This just isn’t fair!



You stand behind Becky, unable to take your eyes off of the perfectly formed moons peeking around her underwear. This is like your wildest wet dream gone horribly wrong. Two women spanking each other makes you incredibly hot, but being one of the women seems to diminish the fantasy somehow. Or make it better. You can’t quite decide.



You really don’t want Mr. Kail to be upset with you, so you haul back and smack the poor girl’s ass with all your might. Her smooth skin vibrates against your palm. She squeals. Your panties dampen. You repeat the process over and over. By the eighth smack, your hand hurts. You can only imagine how Becky must feel.



Her ass glows as you finish the final spanking. She stands up, letting her skirt fall back into place. You see the tears in her eyes, but there is something else there too. Anger. You have an uncomfortable suspicion that its not directed at Mr. Kail. She’s angry at YOU!



“Your turn, Rita.” Oh God. Can this get any worse?



You’re trembling all over as you approach the desk. Never in a million years would you have thought this day would have turned out like this! You almost feel like you’re in a dream, stuck in somebody else’s body. You watch your hands with the long pink nails, slowly raise the short skirt up your legs. The slinky, sheer stockings dissolve into your smooth skin, covered only by the tiny garter straps. Then a tiny glimpse of satiny pink. The cool air on your rear causes goose bumps to pop up all over your body. You find yourself bending over at the waist, your elbows leaning on Mr. Kail’s desk. Your long, blonde hair swishes in front of your face as if it was trying to hide your shame.



You can sense Becky walking up behind you. You shut your eyes. Your jaw clamps shut. Oh god, why is this happe…



SMACK!



Its worse than you imagine! Your smooth, sensitive skin seems to amplify the pain. Becky’s not holding back. Not even a little bit. You feel a sense of resentment towards the bitch, despite the fact that you did the same thing to her only a minute before.



“1,” Mr. Kail calls out, “Only 25 more to go!”



SMACK!



Your eyes start to fill with tears. 24 more. You try to block out the pain. You don’t succeed.



Your ass is on fire. The good news is, you and Becky are allowed to eat standing up. The bad news is…everything else about the meal. Apparently secretaries at M&R aren’t allowed to use silverware. You really should have READ the contract better. Eating salad with your fingers is not pleasant. Unfortunately, that’s not the only impediment.



Mr. Kail ordered you to feed Becky…and for her to feed you.



So here you are, your fingers covered in a gooey Caesar dressing, trying to eat the pinch of lettuce that Becky holds between her fingers, while watching Becky’s lips wrap around your own. There’s no good way to do it, save putting her fingers in your mouth and letting her drop the food onto your tongue. She seems to have no reservations about this activity. Her own mouth eagerly wraps around your salad holding fingers, sucking the dressing off with no hesitation at all. The slut almost seems to enjoy it.



Slowly you finish the meal. The salads were miniscule and your stomach gurgles, feeling slighted. You glare at Mr. Kail. He pops the last bite of his turkey sandwich into his mouth with a grin.



“Still hungry girls?” he chuckles, “Don’t worry, I have dessert for you.”



The sexual tone to his voice frightens the hell out of you. Then you see the cup of tapioca pudding that came with his lunch and you feel better. Phew.



He pops open the lid and dips one of his big, beefy fingers into it. He holds the finger out to Becky. She doesn’t hesitate.



Her lips wrap around it and she sucks the pudding into her greedy little mouth. You can’t believe how slutty she is! You would never…



The same finger is extended toward you, pudding gooped all over it, the finger underneath it glistening with Becky’s saliva.



Your stomach gurgles. Once again you’re faced with a choice that doesn’t feel like much of a choice. If you don’t accept the pudding, this horrible man will punish you again. Your ass is still scalding from the brutal beating Becky gave you and the thought of another spanking makes you want to weep. At the same time, eating food from a woman’s finger was one thing…sucking food off a man’s finger was a different story entirely.



Determined not to be punished again, you lean forward and wrap your lips around his finger. It feels warm and meaty inside your mouth, and you fight back the gag reflex. You use your lips to scrape the pudding off into you mouth. The flavor is tapioca, but the way you got it into your mouth makes the texture really unpleasant.



“Well?” Mr. Kail asks, “Don’t I get a thank you?”



“Thank you, Mr. Kail,” you and Becky say in near unison.



“Yeah…thanks for letting us suck your finger you egotistical prick,” you think. You’ve got to get out of here!



Mr. Kail looks at his watch.



“Looks like our time is up for this morning. Becky! Give Rita a kiss and thank her for feeding you lunch.”



Did he just say…



Suddenly Becky is pressing up against you. Her lips meet yours and you find yourself locked in a kiss. You can smell her flowery scent merging with your own. Her painted lips taste sweet, much as yours must taste. You feel her tongue flick against your lip, not entering your mouth but exploring just a tiny bit. Your locked away member spits in pleasure and protest. Then she pulls away, her head down, her face flushed with embarrassment. You feel an utmost certainty that she thinks you’re really a woman. The guilty look on her face proves it to you once and for all. She feels guilty for kissing another girl.



“Rita! Kiss Becky goodbye and thank her for lunch.”



You lean in toward Becky, feeling her body against yours again. God! What you wouldn’t give to be alone with her and have this stupid chastity belt off for ten minutes. You feel like you’re about to explode from pent up sexual tension. You gently put your lips against hers, feeling their moist tenderness melt into your own. Her tongue once again tickles your lip and then surprisingly slips into your mouth. You can feel her trepidation about kissing a girl even as she explores for a quick second before pulling away again. Her face burns as bright as your backside feels. She liked it. You have a feeling she’s as turned on as you are.



“All right, girls,” he says, walking around to your side of the desk. He wraps an arm around Becky, pulls her into an embrace and kisses her himself. He makes your own kiss look tame. His tongue does Olympic events into her mouth. One of his hands goes to the back of her neck. She moans at his touch, even as his other hand drifts downwards toward her backside. The kiss lasts forever, Becky surrendering to the brute’s every will. He pulls away, leaving her gasping for breath.



Then he turns toward you.



Oh God.



He pulls you into himself, his massive body dwarfing your own. His lips meet yours with a harshness and you feel his tongue instantly start intruding inward. He explores your closed teeth with a passion and you feel his hands begin to explore your body. The one that clamps onto your neck, squeezes just hard enough to make you open your mouth. This lets the slimy intruder in and it begins to conquer the dark region with its writhing and wriggling. His other hand grabs your ass, pressing your body closer and harder against him. You feel the rigid thing that presses against your belly. You struggle to get away from this animal, but he holds you tight letting you go only when he finishes his exploration.



You find yourself gasping for breath just as much as Becky, even as your mind tries to come to grips with what just happened. A man just KISSED you!



“How do you like your new slut?” a voice from the door asks. All three of you turn to see the woman leaning in the door frame.



You know, without a doubt, that the smirk on Miss Payne’s face is due to your predicament. She just watched this brute molest your mouth. She never told him you were a guy. He thinks you’re just as much of a slut as Becky and this woman never even hinted otherwise. Your hatred for her swells to epic proportions.



“She’s a hot little thing,” Mr. Kail says, squeezing your ass for emphasis. You can’t suppress a squeal. “It’s gonna be a lot of fun breaking her in.”



What did he mean by that?



“Well at least you’ve found a way to keep that sassy mouth of hers busy,” Miss Payne laughs.



“Yeah…that’s one way.” he says. He smacks your aching ass hard enough to cause you to leap forward. Becky is already heading toward Miss Payne.



“Bye, girls,” Mr. Kail says, his voice full of good cheer, “See you tomorrow.”



He heads back to his desk, as you and Becky follow Miss Payne out of the room and back towards the elevator.



You stand next to Becky in the elevator and feel an irrational dislike for the girl. She is standing perfectly straight with her hands tucked behind her back. Her chest is puffed out, her perfectly formed breasts straining at the thin fabric of her blouse. Her head is lowered, with her eyes on her feet, the perfect display of feminine submission. She’s making you look bad and at the same time driving you mad with lust. You can’t help but stare at her breasts as she breathes slowly in and out…



“Rita!” Miss Payne growls without looking at you, “Stand up straight. You don’t see Becky slouching do you?”



You glare at Becky. You might be wrong, but you think you see a slight smirk on her face. Well if she thinks she’s better than you, you’ll show her.



You copy her posture, standing even straighter and stiffer than the brown-nosing bitch. You wait expectantly for a compliment from Miss Payne. It doesn’t come. This is SO unfair!



With your head hung submissively you have a good view of your heel-clad feet. God they hurt! The horrid shoes feel like vices.



They sure do make your legs look sexy though. What did Miss Payne call them? Fuck me shoes?



A throb in your chastity belt confirms this. Why should the idea of wearing ‘Fuck Me’ shoes turn you on? You’ve got to get out of this crazy place! You’re wearing shoes that make men want to have sex with you, and what’s worse…they’re locked on your feet! When they let you out of this ridiculous chastity belt tonight, you’re going to do whatever it takes to get out of here! Hell you might even change your name. Today has been the worst, most humiliating day of your life. With almost no effort these people have dressed you up with an outfit that NO self-respecting woman would EVER wear…much less a MAN! Only sluts like Becky would enjoy looking like this…being treated like this…



Your legs start to hurt from standing so stiffly. You shift slightly, trying to take the weight off of your toes. Your thighs brush together being tickled by the lace of your slinky, pink panties. Your trapped member throbs. God what you wouldn’t give to be out of this chastity belt!

You shift legs again, feeling the sheer stockings rub together. Your panties dampen again. This is unbearable! Every move you make only makes you more sexually frustrated!



You glance over at Becky to see if she shows any similar signs of frustration. You realize your mistake at once. Seeing her beautiful body crammed into the provocative outfit that you share only causes the prisoner between your legs to drool more! You shift again, unable to help yourself, needing the caress of the lacey underwear against your thighs.



“Rita! Stop squirming! I’m not going to tell you again!”



You stand up straight again, feeling the garter straps snap tight to your bare skin. This is SO unfair. You only shifted from one foot to the other. You can see that smirk on Becky’s face again out of the corner of your eye. You’re really starting to HATE her!



The elevator stops on floor number seven and Miss Payne grabs Becky’s wrist.



“Rita! Wait here and DO NOT MOVE!” she growls as she hauls Becky down the hallway. You continue to hold your submissive pose until she’s out of sight, then cautiously you let your breath out and raise your head. Your whole body aches. Your ass feels raw from the horrible spankings, your feet throb from the atrocious shoes and your ribs feel like they’re about to crack from the constricting clothes. You’ve got to get out of this madhouse somehow.



More time passes and you dance back and forth, trying to let each foot rest a little. The movement causes the ruffled panties to tickle your thighs again and you grimace as another pleasureless spurt trickles down your leg. This is unbearable!



You peer down the hallway and still see no sign of Miss Payne. Maybe now is your chance!



The throbbing of your backside makes your decision for you. Maybe a better opportunity for escape will come later. For now, its best to do what you’re told and try not to do anything else wrong.



Two more minutes pass and you feel like your feet are about to fall off. How do women wear these stupid shoes all the time? You look down as you continue to dance back and forth from one leg to another. The tiny gold padlocks on the shoes don’t look that tough. Maybe if you had a hammer you could break them. Or a paperclip. Or something…



A noise causes you to look up. Standing in the hallway is a tall, dark haired man holding a manila envelope. He’s halfway out of a door, as if he stopped only when he noticed you. His eyes take in every inch of you and the grin on his face would look perfectly normal on the Big, Bad Wolf.



Your face turns bright red as you quickly resume the submissive posture: back arched, head down. Looking up with only your eyes, you can see him still staring at you. You feel horribly exposed standing here being stared at. Does he know you’re really a man? Or worse, does he NOT know? You’re trembling a little and you think you can actually HEAR your knees knocking together.



Seeing Miss Payne at the end of the hallway causes a wave of relief to run through you. At least until the man stops her and whispers in her ear. The look on her face causes your blood to run cold.



“Mr. Richards says you were fidgeting while I was gone,” she says as she approaches you, “Is that true?”



You look up at him in dismay. The bastard blows you a kiss before disappearing into his door. Feeling no more mature than a five year old, you nod your head ashamed.



She growls for a second…actually growls, low, deep and menacing. Then in a flash she whips a tiny pair of scissors out of her back pocket. Before you know what she is doing, she has removed the top button of your blouse. You stare at her in horror.



“Watch your step slut,” she laughs, “You only have three buttons left.”



You stare down at your shirt unable to stop yourself from pouting. Thankfully nothing is showing yet, but you can’t help but notice that the next button is right at bra level. If they cut that one off…



“Lesson learned?” she asks you. You nod your head, blinking back tears of frustration. This is SO unfair. You wouldn’t have fidgeted if they hadn’t made you wear these stupid shoes.



“Show me!” Miss Payne growls. For a minute you don’t know what she wants you to show her. Then it clicks. You assume the submissive posture, arching your back as much as you can and lowering your head to stare at your feet. You can’t remember being more uncomfortable, but what little modesty you have left is at stake. You’ll be damned if you let her take ANOTHER button.



The elevator opens and Miss Payne wastes no time dragging you down the hall. You’re so concerned about staying on your feet in the horrible heels that you quickly lose track of all the twists and turns through the corridors. When she finally does come to a stop outside of an ominous-looking closed door, you realize you have absolutely no idea of the way back to the elevator. Not that you could use it without an access card anyway.



She drags you roughly into a small waiting area that has a couch, a chair and a small office desk in the corner.



“Have a seat.” Miss Payne says, “Your supervisor will be out to meet you in a second. I’ll be back to get you at five-thirty.”



Your eyes flick to the inner door of the waiting area. Your supervisor. Butterflies fill your stomach and for a minute you think you’re going to be sick. You’re expected to be a full-fledged secretary for someone…dressed like THIS. Your eyes go wide as Miss Payne disappears, shutting the door behind her. Your first instinct is to run. To your horror, the door back to the hallway has no handle on it. There’s a small black panel where the door knob should be that must be laser activated. You’re trapped in here at the mercy of whoever is behind the other door. You stand there, shifting back and forth from one uncomfortably heeled foot to the other, not sure what to do. Sitting down seems like a winning plan though, if only to get off these stilts they have you walking around in.



“Rita,” a voice says from behind you, “Excellent!”



You spin around and see the woman from the elevator earlier. Miss Worthington. The one that had appraised you like a piece of meat. You shrink away as she draws close.



“Apparently, I’m lucky to get you,” she says, her hand stroking your cheek, “Miss Payne said that you have several bids on you already. Do you know how rare that is?” You stare at her unable to comprehend what she’s saying. Bids? They’ve already started auctioning you off!?!



Her hand stops stroking your cheek and grabs your face, puckering up your lips.



“You’re going to fetch a pretty penny, Rita,” she says, “I’m just lucky I saw you first.”



She leans in close to you, her hand still forcing your face into a puckered position.



“If Miss Payne hadn’t told me, I never would have known,” she whispers into your ear, “You’re very convincing…”



Your eyes spring wide open. She knows! She knows you’re a guy!



“And I thought you were just an innocent, wide-eyed girl when I first saw you. No wonder you were so skittish! Although with how well you pass for a girl I find it hard to believe you haven’t tried it before! I bet you dress up like a girl all the time, don’t you Rita?”



You nod your head, feeling the familiar shame wash over you. She only laughs.



“I knew it,” she giggles, “I knew you looked just a little TOO good!”



You hang your head, unable to meet her eyes.



“But you’ve never been TREATED like the slut you are until today, right?” she asks, pulling you toward her. Her face is only inches away from yours, her body pressed up against you. “You may have slutty eyes, but they’re an innocent slut’s eyes.”



Her lips are so close to yours that for a moment, you think she’s going to kiss you. You’re not sure whether you want her to or not.



“But don’t worry, Rita, that’s why you’re here.”



She twirls you around and shoves you toward the desk.



“Sit, type, answer the phone. Follow the instructions on the computer. Clients will be in later and you will serve drinks. Understand?”



You nod your head, not that any part of her speech was a question. You hurry to your desk, eager to get off of the uncomfortable stilts.



You plop down at the desk eager to get off the teetering heels, only to wince as your abused bottom connects roughly with the chair. You wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. Its not possible. This chair is just like the ones in the training room, with the wedge running through the center that rides up your butt-crack. Your skirt instantly slides up to reveal your thigh and you pull it back down again.



Your eyes are drawn to a mirror that’s bolted to the desk. It’s pointed directly at your face so that you can’t help but see yourself as you sit there. Despite the tears that you have shed throughout the day, there is no obvious distress to your make-up. However they applied it, seems to be waterproof! How are you ever going to get this stuff off!?!



Your eyes lock onto the eyes of the reflection and you shiver. You’re beautiful. There’s no other word for it. Your skin is flawless, your long, blonde hair perfectly styled and your kissable pink lips are large and pouty. Another tear drips down your reflection’s cheek and it only adds to the appeal. She looks so helpless. So submissive. It can’t possibly be you, can it?



There’s a rustle behind the inner door and your heart begins to pound. You need to get busy. Maybe later there will be a good chance to escape, but for now, your best hope is to do the job well enough to avoid punishment. You glance at the computer. It’s dark except for a single line which reads: “Type in your name:”



Not knowing what else to expect, you pull out the keyboard and start to type.



You wince as you type in Rita. Every time they make you use that horrible, degrading name it feels easier and easier. After your typing lessons earlier, your fingers have no trouble finding the letters. You stare at the name for a moment before pressing the Enter key. Rita. You. Your name. Your gaze travels back to the mirror on the desk.



Rita. The girl in the mirror. You.



You shiver. You have absolutely no trouble thinking of that girl in the mirror as Rita. She even looks like a Rita. What’s worse, you’re not even allowed a full name. You are only a first name. A sexy, little office girl, with no last name. How has this happened?



You make your eyes wander away from the beautiful blonde-haired girl in the mirror and back to the computer screen. You hit Enter and the monitor flashes to life.



“Welcome to your first day of Obedience Training, Rita”, the title says at the top of the screen. Obedience Training? What are you a dog?



The screen blinks and then a new title appears. “LESSON ONE: WORDS AND PHRASES THAT ARE ALLOWED.”



There are two buttons. One says, “READ THE LESSON”, the other says, “SKIP THE LESSON”.



Words roll onto the screen.



“As a low-level employee of the M&R Corporation, you are expected to have the following vocabulary. If you are caught using words outside of this list while in the presence of clients, you will face consequences.



The following words and phrases are allowed and can be used together: Yes. Sir. Ma’am. Miss. Please. Thank you. You’re welcome. I’m sorry.



The following phrases are allowed. Hello. My name is Rita. How may I make your day better? What else may I do for you? I would be happy to.



Since most entry level girls are often confused and easily distracted, you may ask questions so long as: 1.You begin every question with the words ‘May I’. 2.You ask permission to ask the question by saying, ‘May I ask a question?’.



Memorize these words. Other words are allowed should you be asked a specific question and told to speak freely. Failure to speak properly will result in discipline.”



They’re kidding right? You’re supposed to get by using only these words? Surely there have to be more. You click the CONTINUE button.



“LESSON TWO: PROPER ETIQUETTE.”



Once again there are two buttons: READ THE LESSON or SKIP THE LESSON.



“Your first lesson in etiquette is that good girls always curtsey. As an office girl of the M&R Corporation, you are expected to have proper etiquette. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”



You will curtsey:



When you are greeting a manager. Before you leave a manager. If you are complimented. If you are commanded to perform a task. If you are thanked. After a punishment has been administered.



“Demonstrated below is a proper curtsey.”



You look at the three drawings with the instructions beside them.



The right leg goes behind the left, toe on the ground. Knees are bent while you raise your skirt. The skirt should be raised to the middle of the thigh, so as to properly expose the tops of your stockings.



You feel your face blushing bright red as you picture yourself performing this inane act. If you have to curtsey every time you do one of the things listed…you’ll never have time to do anything else.



You press the continue button, eager to stop looking at the stupid ‘dance’ they expect you to do. LESSON THREE: DISPLAYING YOURSELF”



Dear God. This just keeps getting worse.



“All office girls of the M&R Corporation are expected to appear as sexy as possible and display that sexiness to the best of their ability.” Your eyes widen. This is going too far.



You should always arch your back and be proud of your bust. Your chest should be the first thing to enter a room and you should seek to draw attention to it in any way you can.



You should always wiggle when you walk. Your hips should sway from side to side and you should always have a bounce in your step. A bouncy girl is an energized girl.



You should always bend at the waist and you should NEVER bend your knees while bending over. Proper posture is essential in this organization.



You should show your panties at every opportunity. Panties are some of M&R’s best selling products and like all product placement, the more they are seen the better they sell.



You should keep your hands behind your back when standing still. Your arms should be crossed and your palms should be facing out. This will help you not only to stand up straight, but also to arch your back and show off your bust.



You should keep your head bowed and your eyes down, unless a Manager is speaking to you. A humble girl is a girl who knows her place.



You stop reading. You can’t believe you’re actually sitting in an office, dressed as a beautiful woman, being forced to learn how to act as sexy as possible. How did this happen? You press CONTINUE again, eager to get on to whatever actual work they have planned for you. You need to stay busy. Maybe then you can forget about the sensual clothes bound around your body, or the hair tickling your neck.



The screen goes dark for a second and then a button finally appears. It simply reads: FINISHED.



“PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS!” the screen reads in big, bold letters. Dear God, there’s a quiz!



“QUESTION ONE: Your manager calls you into their office and tells you to stand there until you are needed. A minute passes and then you are told to take a letter to the manager across the hall. The manager across the hall thanks you for the letter and mentions how pretty you look today. He tells you to tell your manager that he will be there in an hour. You go back and tell your manager the message. He thanks you and then tells you that you may go back to your desk.”



“How many times have you curtsied?”



“WRONG!”



“You would curtsey 13 times in the current scenario.”



“Your manager calls you into their office… ( 1. You curtsey when greeted by a manager.)



…and tells you to stand there until you are needed. ( 2. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.)



A minute passes and then you are told to take a letter to the manager across the hall. ( 3. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) ( 4. You curtsey when you leave a Manager’s Office.)



The manager across the hall… ( 5. You curtsey when you are greeting a manager .)



…thanks you for the letter… ( 6. You curtsey when you are thanked.)



…and mentions how pretty you look today. ( 7. You curtsey when you are complimented.)



He tells you to tell your manager that he will be there in an hour. ( 8. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) ( 9. You curtsey when you leave a manager’s office.)



You go back and tell your manager the message. (10. You curtsey when you are greeting a manager.)



He thanks you… (11. You curtsey when you are thanked.)



…and then tells you that you may go back to your desk. (12. You curtsey when you are commanded to perform a task.) (13. You curtsey when you leave a manager’s office.)”



The next question appears on the screen.



“QUESTION TWO: Which would you rather be? Pretty, Sexy or Slutty?”



“WRONG!”



“The answer is SEXY. You are expected to appear as sexy as possible and display that sexiness to the best of your ability.”



“QUESTION THREE: Do you understand the vocabulary rules? Yes or no?”



“CORRECT!”



“Do you understand the vocabulary rules? Yes or no?”



“NO is not an acceptable word for an office girl of the M&R Corporation. You may only say yes.”



You have completed level one of your lessons. Your results are being printed in your Manager’s office. You may now go to the door and knock.”



You sit there for a minute, stunned. You’re supposed to go knock on the door? You shift in the uncomfortable seat, which only reminds you of your abused backside. You don’t think you can take another spanking. You’d better get going.



You knock on the door. Time passes and when there is no reply you begin to debate whether to knock again. Before you can make a decision, you hear “Come in…” bellowed from behind the door. Every molecule of your body doesn’t want to go in that room, but you really don’t see any other alternative. You take a deep breath, and slip inside. Before you even get a chance to look around the room, a thought occurs to you.



You’re expected to curtsey when you enter the manager’s office.



Just the thought of doing something that girly makes you blush, but at the same time, your aching behind can’t stand anymore torment. What are you to do?



You awkwardly do a bob, trying your best not to fall over in the heels. Miss Worthington doesn’t even seem to notice. Her attention is riveted at the paper on her desk.



You stand there awkwardly unsure of what to say or do. After an eternity passes, she finally looks up at you.



“What!?!” she asks. Before you can stammer an answer her eyes drift to the printer, “Oh…your test…let’s see how you did, shall we?”



She pulls the test out of the tray and takes a look at it.



“You didn’t do so well on your quiz, Rita,” she says, her eyes drifting up to you, “What are we going to do with you?”



You start to give her a suggestion of what SHE can go and do, when you see her hand dip into her desk drawer.



She raises to her feet and when you see what’s in her hand, you scream. Even in your horror, you’re dismayed to hear the girlishness to your cry. You run for the door and try to get it open, but before you can, her arm locks around you.



“Please don’t…” you whimper, even as she pulls your skirt up. You feel the cold air of the room cause your bare thighs to pimple with gooseflesh and then…



“You just need to be a little more receptive, Rita,” she says. She plunges the needle into the fatty part of your behind and you cry out in fear and pain as she injects a creamy liquid into you. “That’s why the job is called a receptionist…You need to be receptive.”



She pulls the needle out of you and drops it on the floor. You don’t feel any different, but who knows what foul thing just got injected into your ass?



The two of you stand there a minute, her pinning you with her body against the closed door. You feel her hand massaging your backside and you realize its sore not just from the spankings now but from the shot too. A tear trickles down your cheek. Why are they doing this to you!?! You don’t want to be this slutty, little sex-pot that they’ve turned you into. But everything you try to do to fix the situation only makes things worse! What are you going to do?

You feel her hand slide around your hip and her fingers begin to trace the edges of the chastity belt.



“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she says softly into your ear, “That was for your own good. It’ll just make you a little more…submissive.”



Another tear trickles down. She catches it on your cheek with a kiss. Her fingers move between your legs, rubbing the crotch of the chastity belt. Your body responds despite your mind’s horror of the situation. Her finger finds the tiny hole in the belt and as if it were a button connected to the pleasure sensors in your brain, you moan. Your member throbs inside of its confinement and squirts helplessly even as she continues to rub that sensitive spot. Your whole body aches with need. Your mind feels fuzzy and you KNOW that if you could just get a sexual release everything would seem a lot clearer, but with the belt on you will NEVER get that release.



“Are you more…receptive…now, Rita?” she asks. You moan again, unable to help yourself. She chuckles and suddenly the rubbing stops. She pulls away and goes back to her desk. The whole world feels far away as you turn to look at her. Your legs feel weak and every movement you make seems to stimulate your frustrated prisoner down below.



“Now you are going to take twenty minutes and clean up my office. There is a trash chute on the wall by your desk, take out my two waste baskets and yours as well. Then in the bottom drawer of your desk, there are cleaning supplies. I want this place to sparkle. And remember, Rita, You have to clean like an M&R girl. Bend at the waist and show off those pretty little panties of yours every chance you get, all right? Because if you don’t…” she holds a wooden ruler and cracks it down hard on the desk.



And that’s how you find yourself cleaning for twenty minutes. You empty the waste-baskets, bending at the waist like a good little girl. You wash the windows, stretching up on your tip-toes to reach the top, painfully aware of your skirt riding up. You dust every inch of furniture.



With the room sparkling clean you stand submissively in front of her desk. Your hands are behind your back, your chest is out, your head is down. She looks at you with a gleam in her eye.



“All clean?” she asks.



“Yes Ma’am,” you hear yourself replying even as your body performs a curtsey. You know you shouldn’t act this way, but what choice do you have? You have to get out of here somehow…if only an opportunity would present itself.



“Wonderful,” she says, clapping her hands, “I believe you deserve a reward…”



Her hand dips into the drawer of her desk and comes out holding something. Your eyes widen. She’s giving you a lollipop shaped just like a…



“There you go, Rita,” she says, thrusting the phallic candy into your hand, “Wrap your lips around that. All the girls around here REALLY like them.”



She looks at you expectantly and not knowing what to do, you curtsey again.



“Yes…You’re coming along just fine,” she chuckles, “Now go on and eat your reward.” You look at the candy in your hands again. It’s a life-size, red penis on a stick, maybe six-inches long and covered in a plastic wrapper. She can’t honestly expect you to put this in your mouth, can she? I mean, you’re a guy! She KNOWS you’re a guy! You look up at her with questioning eyes only to see a big, smirk on her face.



“Oh that’s right,” she cackles, “I forgot. You’ve never had your lips wrapped around something shaped like that before, have you?” She moves over to you while she talks, grabbing the candy out of your hands. “It’s easy, see?” she unwraps the lollipop and shoves it into your mouth. Before you have time to react, she pushes you down onto the leather-bound chair facing her desk and climbs on top of you. Her knees lock your arms down next to you and her weight makes it impossible for you to get out of the chair. One of her arms wraps around your head, while the other continues to hold onto the base of the candy cock.



“The real secret to enjoying this candy is to savor it,” she says. She pushes the candy all the way into your mouth. You start to gag, but before you can she pulls it back out, so that the head of the fake dick rests squarely on your tongue. Then she pushes it back in again. You bite down, trying to crack the thing in half and keep her from molesting your mouth with it, but the thing is too hard and thick to break. You only succeed in hurting your teeth. You try to struggle to get away, but with her weight on top of you, you have no options. Uncomfortably aware of the shape of the thing in your mouth, you stop resisting and allow her to slide the candy in and out of your lips.



“Now I’m sure you’ll like the real thing better,” she whispers into your ear, her voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up, “but this one is better for you. Filled with all the vitamins and nutrients a young girl like you needs.” Your eyes widen. For the first time you realize that the candy has a medicinal taste to it. Is it drugged? And if so, with what?



She continues to torment you with the candy for fifteen minutes while she whispers disgusting tips on how to savor the cock in your mouth, until finally you’re able to bite into the beast. She laughs and climbs off of you, squeezing your neck affectionately before she leaves.



“You’ve got a great looking mouth, girl. I may have to try it out for myself later.”



You’re about to spit the candy out when you see Miss Worthington glare up at you, just waiting for you to do something wrong. Your butt still throbs in a reminder of what happens for disobedience and that makes the decision for you. Wincing at the thought of what chemicals or drugs might be in the sweet tasting chunks, you chew up the remains and swallow them. Hopefully its nothing bad!



You turn to look at her, outraged over her molesting your mouth that way when you see her smile and wave at the door. You whip around, your skirt twirling to reveal your stocking tops only to see two women and a man standing in the doorway staring at you.



“Please make yourself comfortable,” Miss Worthington says to the trio in the doorway. You’re not sure exactly what to do, so by default you stand where you are. You shift from one uncomfortable heel to the other, horribly aware of the humiliating outfit you’re squeezed into.



“Thanks for taking the time to see us,” the curly-haired brunette says, shaking hands with Miss Worthington, “I’m Maxine and this is my sister Rebecca.” The shorter woman shakes hands and then the two of them sit in the chairs facing the desk. You glance over at the guy who came in with them and catch him gazing at your legs. His eyes quickly dash away and a blush as red as your own darkens his cheeks.



“So what can I do for you ladies today?” Miss Worthington asks. She sits behind her desk as the two ladies look at each other. You and the guy who came with them seem to have been completely forgotten. You can feel him staring at you. You shift your feet, afraid to look up for fear of catching his eye again.



“Now, now ladies,” Miss Worthington laughs, “Don’t be shy. Would you like a drink?”



“Oh God, yes!” Rebecca says. You wonder why she’s so nervous. She’s not the one dressed like the office tart, after all.



“Rita!” Miss Worthington barks, “Fetch these ladies a glass of white wine please!” You jump at the sound of your name, curtseying without even thinking about it. You look around and spot the mini bar in the corner. The creepy guy’s eyes follow your every move.



The bottle of white wine is in the mini fridge under the bar and you wrestle the cork out with the corkscrew.



“The truth is, I need a secretary,” Maxine says, “Rebecca has that poor excuse of a husband of hers to help her out, but I’m stuck having to answer my own phone.”



You glance over as you pour the wine to see the guy looking at you again. Why does he let that woman talk about him that way? And why is staring at you?



“I don’t suppose you have any big and hunky, MALE secretaries hidden around here do you?” Maxine laughs. Miss Worthington just shoots her a sly smile and leans back in her chair.



“Nope. None of those, I’m afraid,” Miss Worthington says. You mince over to the ladies and hand them glasses of wine. You look over at the guy to see if he might like a glass and find him staring at you again. You decide that if he’s going to ogle you, then he won’t get any wine.



“But if it’s a male secretary you want,” Miss Worthington says, “We might have something that would interest you.”



Your eyes widen. Oh no…she’s going to tell them…



The two women are nodding their agreement and Miss Worthington waves you over with two fingers. Horrified, you scamper over next to her and curtsey.



“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Dave Phillips. Say hello, Dave.”



You mutter a horribly embarrassing hello. They all stare at you, eyes wide and mouths ajar. But no one is more shocked than the guy. You’re afraid that his eyes are going to pop out of his head.



“No way!” Rebecca mutters. Maxine is not so subtle, “NO WAY!!!”



“I promise you ladies,” Miss Worthington says, “Rita, here, walked into our building this morning 100% male. She’s still got quite a bit of training left to do, but I think you can see the potential…”



“I don’t believe it!” Maxine says, shaking her head, “What are you trying to pull?”



“Go on. Feel her neck under the collar,” Miss Worthington says pushing you forward towards the women. You teeter on the heels only to be caught by Maxine. Her fingers probe your throat and press roughly against your Adam’s apple.



“I’ll be damned,” Maxine says, grabbing one of your breasts experimentally, “These aren’t real, are they?”



“Not yet,” Miss Worthington says. Your head whips around to look at her and she winks at you.



“Do you like looking like this?” the woman groping your breast asks.



“Yes Ma’am,” you say, curtseying. What else can you say? The word ‘no’ isn’t allowed in your vocabulary. “I’ll take him,” Maxine says, “How much longer does he need to train?”



You bite your lower lip. You’re being sold like a piece of meat.



“She still has a month left at least,” Miss Worthington says, “Probably more since she’s such a mouthy, little tramp.”



A month! Dear lord. As soon as they let you out of this chastity belt you are going to get just as far from this place as possible. This day alone feels like its lasted years.



“But fair warning,” Miss Worthington continues, “She’s going to be expensive. She’s getting bids on her already and like I said its only her first day.”



“Don’t worry. I can go pretty high,” Maxine says. Her eyes roll over you with an evil gleam. “I wanted a guy to be my secretary, but this is even better. Does he still have his…you know…equipment?”



Miss Worthington pulls up your skirt and raps her knuckles on your chastity belt.



“All tightly locked away. She can still use the bathroom, but there is NO room for any male impulses.” She drops your skirt back and you can’t help but cringe as another squirt of liquid soaks into your panties. This belt is intolerable. “And just like the belts we put on our girls, it keeps her in a perpetually horny state. Feel her panties…go on…remember you’re in charge.”



How can they be treating you like this? This can’t be legal!



The woman’s hand goes between your legs and your body betrays you and squirts.



“He’s soaking wet!” Maxine says laughing. You blush again in shame.



“But there’s no climax to it,” Miss Worthington says smiling, “Perpetual horniness with no conclusion. It makes them VERY docile.”



You pout as the ruffles on your panties cause another squirt. Docile!?! You feel like you’re about to explode!



“Well I’ve made up my mind,” Maxine says, “Email me when she’s ready for auction and I’ll place a bid.”



“Wonderful,” Miss Worthington says. She stands up and shakes hands with Maxine. “I’ll keep you up-to-date on her training. Thanks for stopping by.”



“Thank you,” Maxine says, “Rebecca? Let’s go.”



The other woman doesn’t move.



“You said that Rita was the first guy you’ve ever done this to?” she asks softly.



“Yes,” Miss Worthington says, “She was hired as a clerical error and rather than deal with the potential sexual discrimination lawsuit, Miss Payne thought it best to…”



“Will you be training other males?” Rebecca interrupts.



Everyone is looking at Rebecca now, including you. She seems uncomfortable with the attention.



“I suppose we might. Rita seems to be turning out ok, so…”



“I’d like for you to train my husband…”



The room erupts into chaos. Her husband sputters behind her. Maxine laughs loudly and Miss Worthington chuckles.



“Now listen here…” her husband says, his voice nasal and whining, “If you think for one second that I would EVER dress up like this little fairy…” he points to you.



“Bradley! Shut up!” Maxine yells. He doesn’t even hear her.



“Is this what you want?” he screams, “Is this what you WANT? Fine. Take him. I’m out of here!”



He tries to go to the door and finds it has no handle. He wheels around, his eyes wide with panic and anger and storms back to Miss Worthington.



“Let me out of here!” he screams, “I want out of this place right n…”



Before you can blink, Miss Worthington has pulled the man’s arm behind his back and pushed him face down on top of her desk. He screams in outrage, but she twists his arm until it dies out.



“Now you will be silent while we discuss this,” she says softly into his ear. He whimpers, but says nothing else.



“Rebecca?” Maxine asks in a surprisingly soft voice, “Are you sure you want to do this?”



“Why not?” Rebecca says coldly, “He’s not much use as he is. I think he could certainly use some…training”



Bradley whimpers under Miss Worthington’s grip.



“There are a few things you should know before you make this decision,” Miss Worthington says, “First of all, we train our girls for obedience. If you do this, the next time you see your husband, he won’t be your husband anymore…he’ll be your secretary.”



“I understand,” Rebecca says, her voice as cold as ice.



“Rebecca please…” Bradley moans, only to be cut off as Miss Worthington grinds his neck harder with her fingers.



“Secondly, it is our company policy that all of our girls go to auction. Bradley will be no different. Should you be outbid…”



Her words trail off and Maxine and Rebecca look at each other.



“You can have every cent of my auction money,” Maxine tells her, “We’ll get him back one way or the other.”



“No,” Rebecca says. Her voice is quivering, yet the coldness is still there. “We’ll pay a fair price. If we lose, then someone will obviously have more use for him than we do.”



Bradley begins to sob.



“Well if you’ve made up your mind…” Miss Worthington says.



“I have…”



“Rita, in my bottom left desk drawer is a length of cord. Fetch it for me.”



You curtsey and scamper to the desk. As you bend over to open the drawer, your eyes lock with Bradley, still bent over the desk. You feel horribly sorry for him, but what can you do?



Then you see it.



Sitting innocently on the top of Miss Worthington’s desk.



The keycard that opens the door. This could be your chance. She has her hands full with Bradley, and the other women aren’t in any position to stop you. You might be able to escape. The desk drawer is filled with stuff you’d rather not think about: handcuffs, gags, whips, paddles, collars. You make a mental note not to do anything wrong around Miss Worthington, ever again.



You bring the cord back to the other side of the desk, and in seconds, Miss Worthington has Bradley trussed up, his hands behind his back and tethered to his ankles. Only then does she let him up off the desk. The poor man can barely walk, not that he even tries. He just looks at his wife, big tears running down his face.



“Rebecca please…”



“Shhh,” Rebecca says, putting a finger to his lips, “This is for the best Bradley. It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll even like it.”



Maxine sniggers and Bradley’s face turns red with anger and outrage.



Before he can say anything though, the door bursts open and Miss Payne storms in.



“Ah, ladies, I’d like you to meet our secretarial manager, Miss Payne.”



They shake hands, while you and Bradley stand there, completely ignored.



“Bradley here has just been hired into the Pool. Will you be kind enough to escort him down to the break room and get him thoroughly orientated?”



“Of course,” Miss Payne says, grabbing a hold of Bradleys tied wrists, “I will need one of you ladies to come with me and fill out some paper work.”



“I’ll do it,” Maxine says. The woman has an evil smile on her face. “After all, what is a sister-in-law for?”



Miss Payne nods toward Miss Worthington. “And you might want to go clear this with the boss.”



“Yes I suppose so.” Miss Worthington says, “Rita, get Rebecca another drink and keep her company while we’re gone.”



You curtsey and hurry to the bar, even as they begin to file out of the room. You hear Bradley offer up one final, scared, “Rebecca?” before being escorted down the hall and out of sight. You bring Rebecca a glass of wine, and she takes it without a word. You stand there, unsure of what to do and time ticks by incredibly slow.



“Was I wrong to do that?” She asks softly, her eyes turn toward you and you see they’re filled with tears, “He was cheating on me, you know? I’ve known about it for months and I’ve done nothing.”



Now you feel sorry for her as well. She’s obviously pretty broken up about this. At the same time, she just gave her husband to this horrible company to turn into an office girl, just like you.



“Well?” she asks, her voice harder and angrier now, “Am I an evil person? Say something…”



“I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, ma’am,” you say softly.



Tears suddenly explode from her eyes and she bounds to her feet, wrapping her arms around you. You hug her as she weeps on your shoulder.



“He’ll be ok, right? Tell me he’ll be ok?”



“He’ll be ok,” you tell her patting her back softly.



Her tears slowly reign themselves back in and she pulls away. Her hand goes up and traces your cheek.



“You’re so sweet,” she sniffles, “If he turns out half as good as you…”



You blush and look away, unsure of what to say.



“You really are very pretty,” she says, stroking your hair, “I had no idea…that you were…are…I mean…”



“Stop crying this instant!”



The voice startles both of you and you turn to look.



“You can’t show them any weakness,” Miss Worthington says from the doorway. “They feed on it.”



“I think I’ve made a mistake,” Rebecca says, her voice trembling.



“Its too late for that now,” Miss Worthington says, “He’s signed the contract. All you can do now is learn how to stay in control.”



She dips her hand into the dreaded bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out a long length of chain. She calmly takes a step towards you with it and panic wraps itself tightly around your heart.



“Its about control, Rebecca,” she says striding over to you. You cringe away from her, but as the wall hits your back you realize there is nowhere to go. “They have to know that you’re in charge and that whatever you tell them to do…must be done without question.”



She opens a loop in the end of the chain and in one fluid movement, she slides it over your head. Your hands go to your neck in horror. The woman just put you on a leash!



“Now an important thing to remember, is to keep a commanding tone in your voice. Watch me. Rita! Hands and knees!”



“This can’t be happening,” you think as you slowly descend onto your hands and knees. The carpet is rough against your stocking-clad legs, and the waist-cincher forces you to keep your back straight.



“See what I mean?” Miss Worthington says, “Perfect obedience. If you let them see any weakness, all hope is lost.”



You look up miserably into the eyes of Rebecca. The cold, satisfaction you see in them chills you to the bone.

“Here,” she says tossing the end of your leash to Rebecca, “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out. Practice with Rita. Two sharp tugs on the leash will remind her who’s in charge. Remember. A firm voice.”



She sits at her desk, pulls out her keyboard and begins to type. Rebecca just looks at you for what seems like forever. Your eyes send pleading messages to her. How can they treat you like this?



“What should I have her do?” she asks, her voice no longer timid.



“Whatever you want. The stupid-little thing hasn’t been trained in much of anything yet, but she seems eager enough. Have her clean your shoes.”



Rebecca’s eyes sparkle.



“Rita! Come!” she says. Apparently you don’t move fast enough for her, because she instantly tugs on your leash. The chain cinches around your neck and you squeak in pain and scramble over to her on all fours. She’s not holding back. Your neck aches. You already know that whatever she asks of you, you’ll do without question.



She holds her shoe out in front of your face.



“Go on,” she says firmly, “Make them shine.”



You know what she wants. The collar digs into your neck and you can’t see anyway of getting it out of it.



Your face turns crimson as your tongue slowly extends and licks its way up the black leather pump. A rugged, meaty taste fills your mouth as you bathe the shoe in saliva.



Rebecca giggles in pleasure, and crosses her legs, giving you access to the other one. You begin work on the second one, thankful that her shoes really aren’t that dirty.



You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror behind the bar and blush with humiliation. The girl in the mirror is the picture of submission, her big puppy-dog eyes wide with fear and shame. You can’t help but watch the sexy, little secretary reflection as she kneels there. Her skirt draped across her sexy legs, her tongue coating the shoe with a glossy layer of saliva. And perhaps sexiest of all…



The chain leash around her neck.



You would kill to have a girl that looked like that on a leash between your legs. At the same time, never in a million years would you have thought to BE that girl.



You look down at the shoe you’re working on. It glistens in the light and you lick your lips trying to get the leathery taste out of your mouth.



The tip of her shoe tilts up and touches you under the chin, bringing your face up to look back at hers. She stairs at you for a minute and then in a voice as steady as stone she says, “Kiss it.”



You don’t hesitate. You press your lips against the shiny leather. She giggles with satisfaction.



“Oooh, I like this!” she tells Miss Worthington, “I like this a lot.”



“Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” Miss Worthington asks as she continues to type.



Rebecca smiles at you and pulls you gently over to kneel beside her legs. Her hand presses your face against her outer thigh and she pets your hair, running her fingers through it gently.



“Good girl,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension, “You’ve given me lots of good ideas for Bradley.”



You’re still kneeling beside her, your face in her lap when Maxine comes back in. She sits beside Rebecca. She glances at you curiously, but says nothing.



“We need to make some decisions about Bra…I mean Crystal.”



Your mind flashes back to the break room. Poor Bradley got the locker next to yours.



“Crystal,” Rebecca chuckles, “I like that. How very…ditzy.”



“Yeah, fitting, ain’t it?” Maxine laughs. “Anyway, he’s gonna need some surgery to fit in around here…he’s not quite as naturally girly as your lapdog I guess.”



The hand in your hair pats your head and you wince. You’re NOT girly…THEY’VE made you look like this.



“They’re gonna do some massive stuff on his face, but they’re going to let us decide what we want his body to look like. Here, I have samples.”



She shows Rebecca the sheet of paper in her hand. You stare at it in horror. They wouldn’t really turn Bradley into THAT would they?



“So we could give him an hourglass figure…basically big tits, tiny waist, big ass. Or this one here might be fun. Get this, they call it bootylicious…they leave the top small, shrink the waist and then SERIOUSLY pump up his backside. Or there’s this one here. Top Heavy. They leave the lower part alone and over-emphasize the tits…”



“Poor Bradley,” Rebecca giggles, “He’s going to be VERY popular isn’t he?”



“She,” Miss Worthington says without looking up. This causes the other two women to laugh loudly.



“What do YOU think, Rita,” Rebecca asks you in that puppy-dog voice, “Which one do YOU think is sexy?”



She lightly tugs on your collar and you sputter out your answer. Rebecca laughs again, which sets Maxine off giggling.



“Can you just picture Bradley with a body like this?” Maxine says through her laughter.



“Crystal, you mean…” Rebecca says, “Yes, I think she’s going to be a very popular girl.”



“So you’ve made a decision?” Miss Worthington says, moving towards them from her desk.



“Oh yes,” Rebecca says, “We think Crystal needs an hourglass figure.”



“A good choice,” Miss Worthington says, “…and what about your little lapdog there? I’m supposed to send a body-type recommendation for her later this afternoon, but since you’ve taken a liking to her…”



You stare up in horror. First your eyes go to Miss Worthington, who looks at you as if you’re completely insignificant. Then as the panic sets in your eyes dart back to Rebecca. She stares down at you with cold satisfaction.



“Well it seems to me that since she helped decide what Crystal should look like, that she should look the same…”



You start to protest in anger, but the jerk on your collar turns it into a sob and then a whimper. They can’t seriously be talking about giving you surgery! This can’t be happening!



“Very good,” Miss Worthington says, “You’re starting to get the hang of this.”



The other two ladies stand and you scramble on all fours as Rebecca steps forward, to keep the chain from cinching around your neck.



“The auction for both Rita here, as well as Crystal, should be in about two weeks. I’ll email you with an exact date as soon as I have one.



The ladies shake hands and Rebecca hands Miss Worthington your leash.



“Thanks for this,” Rebecca says, indicating you, “You’re doing a very good job with her.”



“Thank you,” Miss Worthington says, “I think she’ll turn out just fine.”



The women head toward the reception area and you scramble madly to keep up, the carpet rough against your knees. Before you can get through the door, Miss Worthington slips the end of your leash over the outside of the door handle and maneuvers the door shut. The chain leash slides down into the space beneath the door, and as the latch clicks you find yourself trapped, unable to raise your head more than a foot off the floor. You try to pull away from the door, but the other end is firmly attached to the doorknob on the opposite side of the door. You whimper in frustration and mounting dread. They can’t really give you plastic surgery, can they?



But then again, this morning you wouldn’t have thought they could have made you look like a beautiful girl and chained you on all fours, tied to a door. Tears begin to trickle down your face as you wait for Miss Worthington to come back. What else can you do?



Your neck is starting to ache from being held so close to the floor when the door finally opens again.



Miss Worthington steps in, grabbing the end of your leash off the door knob with a yank and pulling you over to her desk.



“You did well, Rita,” she says sitting down, “Not perfect by any means, but good for your first day.”



She tugs on your collar and you find yourself pressing your cheek up against her leg. The soft stocking caresses your cheek even as her hand runs through your long, blonde hair.



“So would you like to belong to them, Rita?” she asks softly, “I think Rebecca took a big liking to you. And just think…soon you and her husband will both be the same shape…”



Your mind flashes back to your lessons. “No” is a forbidden word, so what choice do you really have. You nod your head and mumble a tiny “yes, ma’am”. Hard to believe you took that horrible computer quiz only a few hours ago. Will this day ever be over?



Miss Worthington just chuckles and caresses your face softly.



“You’re doing VERY well, Rita,” she says, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and Rebecca will get top bid.”



You shiver uncontrollably at the thought. They’re going to turn you into a girl. Can they REALLY do something like that? This is slavery. They can’t really SELL you. You’re a person. A human being.



You look up at Miss Worthington’s face and the expression tells you all you need to know. If you stay here, trapped as you are, you will be sold. You’ll no longer be a person with rights, you’ll be a thing. A slave. A GIRL slave. You tremble, even as the prisoner between your legs spurts not once but twice.



“…please…” you whisper in a voice that is unmistakably girlie, “…please…I don’t want to do this…to be this…I don’t want to have surgery…”



She laughs, her hand smacking your ass playfully.



“So what’s good enough for Crystal, isn’t good enough for you, eh?” she says pinching your cheek. You feel like crying. Crystal. You should have tried to help him…her…whatever. But now you’re both trapped here.



“You don’t want big, luscious breasts that everyone will stare at as you enter the room?” she asks, her voice mocking. “You don’t want big, squeezable tits bursting out of your blouse? Oh, Rita, I’m disappointed. You’re not half the slut I thought you were.”



You pluck at your skirt nervously with your fingers, the soft fabric caressing your legs as gently as her hand touches your cheek.



“Shh,” she says, “Its all right, Rita. You’ve had a busy day, and if you keep talking that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”



Tears begin to trickle from your eyes as you shake your head miserably. No more trouble. Please no.



“Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use girl,” she says, the kindness still in her voice but coupled with something new. A cold hardness. “Get under the desk, Rita. Before you say something you’ll regret.”



You squeeze under her desk, trapped by the modesty panel and the low, keyboard shelf. You squirm around the other direction to face her, desperate for air and open space. What you see causes your eyes to go wide.



Miss Worthington is on her feet. You can only see her from the knees down, the desk above your head obscuring your view. What captures your attention so completely is the sight of her baby-blue panties easing down her legs with no help other than gravity. They pool around her feet and you watch as she easily steps out of them.



This can’t be happening.



Miss Worthington sits on the edge of her chair, her legs spread slightly. You see just a hint of something under her skirt before she rolls up to the desk, her legs sliding on either side of you. As her crotch zooms inward, you realize that you’re trapped, your arms pinned by her legs.



“Go on girl,” she says, her muffled voice sounding far and distant, “Do your job.”



Unable to help yourself, you pucker your lips into a kiss, even as she pulls your face in towards her opening. Her wet and swollen clitoris slides between your lips and you gently begin to kiss and suck on it. She writhes in pleasure, little, muffled moans of pleasure come from above the desk and the trapped member between your legs throbs in harmony with your kisses.



“Enjoying your new assistant?” a muffled voice says from somewhere across the room. Miss Worthington’s hand grabs hold of your hair, holding your head firmly in place.



“You better believe it,” she says, “She’s still untrained but she shows great…” she shudders as your lips brush across her. “…potential.”



“Have you decided on her modifications?”



“I’ve decided we should make her C-Cup. But push it a little bit, make her just a little more extreme.”



“Agreed,” says the other voice. The conversation gets muffled as Miss Worthington’s thighs clamp around your head. You feel her body convulse in orgasm even as your brain screams in your head. How can this be happening? How have you ended up under your boss’ desk, pleasuring her as she discusses altering your body to look like a girl?



“…try her out later,” the other voice is saying as her thighs release your head, “After you’ve had the opportunity to fully train her.”



“Of course,” Miss Worthington says, “Tomorrow. Stop by and I’ll let you take her for a ride.”



You hear the door shut behind the visitor but your mind is elsewhere. She must be crazy if she thinks you’re still going to be here tomorrow. The first opportunity you get, you’re getting out of this madhouse. If only you could get this infernal chastity belt off…



“Did I say you were finished?” Miss Worthington barks above you. She squeezes your head with her legs again. “Keep going. Slowly. I’ve got a report to file about you.”



You close your eyes and focus on pleasing her, even as you hear the tap-tap-tap of her keyboard directly above your head. The second orgasm comes quickly. The third one, however, takes you to the task.



You have no idea how much time has passed, only that your mouth aches from pleasuring her and your legs tingle as they begin to wake up. Her last orgasm had lasted seemingly forever. Your head still hurts from the pressure her thighs exerted.



As she rolls her chair backward, you scramble out quickly. She smiles at you as you wobble to your feet, your legs unsteady and asleep.



“Well at last we’ve found something you’re good at,” she says. The woman is practically glowing with post-coital bliss, “I can see now why everyone is bidding on you.”



You shiver, your head hung in submission. They’re bidding on you like you’re a slave. It’s as if you’re not even a human being, but only an object. A toy…



“You really are a sexy little thing aren’t you?” she purrs, uncoiling herself from her chair, “Just wait until we give you a little more…shaping…” She grabs your breasts and squeezes hard enough to cause you to squeak with pain. “But don’t worry, little Rita. I’m sure you’ll come to like the changes.”



She moves around behind you and runs her hands around your stomach possessively. One hand slides upward back toward your breast, while her other hand creeps the other direction.



“You already like some of it, don’t you Rita?” her voice is a whisper in your ear.



You nod your head. You don’t even know if you’re answering the question or just nodding to keep her hand between your legs. Pleasure shoots through you as she tickles your thighs, rubbing you through your thoroughly soaked panties. You moan, arching your back against her, feeling her soft, hot breath on your neck.



Why are you acting like this? Is this what you really are? A wanton slut more easily turned on than a bitch in heat? You shiver as her fingers twirl around the tiny hole in the belt. You hear a soft feminine whimpering that is so loud in your head that it can only be coming from your own voice.



Her hot body presses against you. You can feel her breasts, soft and supple against your back. It’s too much.



You whimper again, grinding against her hand. You NEED release. You have to have it.



“I can do anything I want to you, Rita,” she whispers, “Tie you up, strip you down, use you any way I want to…”



You shudder at her words, even as your body betrays you and squirts again against her hand. You’re almost there, just a little bit more…



“I can make you beg…or cry…or moan…”



As if on cue, the whimpering moan escapes your lips. You’re there. You made it. Finally a release, despite the damned belt.



You tremble waiting for the wash of pleasure that you’ve been building to ALL day.



It doesn’t come.



The thing between your legs squirts out spurt after spurt of creamy fluid and there is no satisfaction. No sense of relief. And worse…



Worse, her hand CONTINUES to stimulate you.



“NO!” you cry out in agony before reverting back to your muttered whimperings, “…no…no…”



“Still horny, aren’t you slut?” Miss Worthington snickers into your ear, “We can’t have you satisfied, can we?”



Her hand continues to stimulate, working your body up again to its fevered pitch. If anything you’re even more desperate now. How can there not be ANY sense of climax…of release…



“It must be especially bad for you ‘new’ girls though,” Miss Worthington whispers, “I can only imagine how…frustrating…it must be. All that build up with no…payoff…”



Impossibly, you pass the point again, squirting ineffectually over and over and STILL no satisfaction. Liquid streams down your legs and you know her fingers must be covered, but despite the discharge you’re still uncontrollably horny. Every little twitch of her hand now sends tingles through your body and you moan in agony.



Then the hand withdraws and you writhe in uncomforted frustration. The belt HAS to come off. You can’t take it anymore.



“…please…” you whimper, “…please…get it off…I need it off…I can’t take it…”



“What and ruin the fun?” she laughs. She plops one of her fingers into your pleading mouth and you taste your own juices on it. “Besides. Only Miss Payne has the key, and she should be here any…”



As if on cue, Miss Payne bursts into the room. The thought that SHE can get this infernal belt off of you overpowers ANY negative feeling you have for her.



“Speak of the devil,” Miss Worthington laughs, “She’s all yours as soon as she cleans me up a little.”



The finger in your mouth wiggles and you wrap your lips around it. The disgust at having to clean your own juice off her fingers is overpowered by your need to follow Miss Payne and get this horrible belt off. Then you’ll be free. You can go home and try and forget this whole HORRIBLE day!



A second finger slides into your mouth, then the third. Then with a slightly painful smack on your ass, she pulls away.



“I’ll come see you after surgery tomorrow, Rita,” she says grinning, “She’s getting the C package, Payne.”



Miss Payne just snickers and rolls her eyes. You shiver at the thought, but they must be crazy if they think you’re EVER coming back to this place again. Contract or not, you’re finished.



You can’t help but fidget back and forth like an excited puppy as Ms. Payne hands Miss Worthington a stack of papers and asks about your performance. You listen to the humiliating account of what happened, barely able to focus at all. Can’t this woman hurry up!



“Well then,” Miss Payne says shaking her head at your fidgeting, “Let me get this horny little slut downstairs before she wets herself again.”



You’re so grateful that you curtsey, which only makes them laugh for some reason.



“Bye Rita,” Miss Worthington says, “See you tomorrow.”



You curtsey to her, almost while you’re moving behind Miss Payne.



You follow her back down the twisty hallway. When you see Becky in the elevator your face lights up into a smile. Everything seems so much better now that its five o’clock. Now that you’re going home.



Becky smiles back at you and you feel a sudden kinship with the girl. After all, with everything you’ve gone through today, you DO have a kinship with her. The elevator door slides shut and the three of you rocket back to floor number nine.



The elevator door opens to reveal the now-familiar corridor. What felt so strange and scary six hours earlier, now feels safe and welcoming. You hurry as fast as the heels allow toward the break room. The lockers; the place to get out of these ridiculous clothes. Then you can go home and never come back. Not to mention getting out of the HORRIBLE belt.



You feel disgusting. Your own juice is dripping down your legs, your panties are doing NOTHING to contain it anymore. Your mouth tastes of…

You shudder at the thought of what this place has made you do…against your will…helpless to stop it… Will you ever feel clean again?



Miss Payne opens the door. Becky scurries inside and you’re hot on her heels, eager for the final stage of the day. What you see stops you in your tracks. All around you, beautiful women are peeling out of uniforms just like yours…Some are bare breasted, others are down to just their corsets and stockings. Each one a Playboy Centerfold in the flesh.



You start to shake even as Becky peels off her blouse and bra and bounces over to her locker.



You’re supposed to undress in front of these girls!



They’re all going to find out you’re a guy! They’re going to know the horrible, slutty things you’ve done all day…and they’re going to think you WANTED to do them. Your legs start to give way…



You feel Miss Payne’s hand on your back, her lips near your ears.



“Strip down, Rita.” Her hand squeezes your neck and then propels you forward; towards the locker with your ‘name’ on it. Your hand trembles as you open it, your eyes dart back and forth to the eye-candy on either side of you. The blond to your left gives you a smile to die for and your panties fail to contain a squirt so big you imagine that you can hear it. Your eyes drift down to the bra the girl wears, and the two massive globes it holds. For a fraction of a second you feel inadequate…envious…jealous…and then you shake yourself out of it. You’ve got to get out of here. Back into your male clothing before the lunatics here actually GIVE you breasts like that…



You open the locker and peer inside. The blood drains from your face.



Your regular clothes aren’t there. Just two plastic packages that seem to have clean versions of the uniform you’re wearing now and three frilly, satiny things, identical except for color. You reach out and touch first the pink one, then the red one and then the black one. The material is so sensual that you shudder. You can’t imagine actually wearing it…



The thought lasts for just a second…the image of sliding it over your now smooth skin and feeling the material makes your body dance…then the thought disappears and reality sets in.



How the hell are you supposed to get home without your clothes? Worse, do they actually expect you to change into this flimsy little nightie thing? You look around and see all the other girls are slipping into them…and then lining up at the door. What the hell is going on here? Will this nightmare never end! You glare at Miss Payne and she meets your glare. With only her eyes she asks you the question: Will you change into your nightie like a good girl, or create a scene?!?



Your fingers are trembling so badly you can barely get the buttons of your blouse undone. It feels like every eye in the room is on you…and you’re not far from wrong. The girls who have already changed, watch you with eagerness…and annoyance. Wherever you’re being taken next, some of them are eager to go.



By the time you have your skirt off, you’re one of three girls still changing…the other two dozen wait…and WATCH…



Then it dawns on you…you can’t get your shoes off. The horrible things are locked on…And the corset you’re in…the one pushing up your chest into your tiny breasts…if you take that off…then they’ll all know!



You glance at the two girls still changing…one of them is nude except for her lacy pink panties, stockings and shoes…also locked on you notice. That solves that question at least…you glance at the skinny brunette to your right…She is slipping the satin nightie over the top of the corset.



Part of you is relieved. You won’t have to reveal your true nature to the rest of these girls…



Then a different realization sinks in: You have to keep wearing this stupid corset thing for an undetermined amount of time…



The two girls who were still dressing slip into line. All eyes are on you now. You see Becky, her eyes wide with irritation. Her lips soundlessly word: ‘Hurry up’.



Wincing you reach into your locker and pull out a nightie…



You slide the silky, pink nightie over your head. The material drifting down over your sensitive skin makes you squirm. It feels so slinky against your arms and back and tickles your thighs as it hits them for the first time.



You hurry into the line, eager to get all the eyes off of you. You can’t help but notice how exposed you are now with each and every step you take. You try not to think about it, but your eyes find the girl in line in front of you. You can’t help but study the outfit you are all crammed into.



The outfit falls high on the thigh, barely covering the bottom of the girl’s backside and not coming close to covering the stockings or garter straps. It hugs all of her curves, which are VERY noticeable. The back is cut low, the straps narrow to emphasize the girl’s shoulder blades. And the front…



The front dips down low enough to show the cleavage of a Hooters Girl.



The thing in your belt betrays you again and you wince…then you remember that you’re dressed exactly like this girl…you feel the outfit hug YOUR curves…show off YOUR body…and you squirt again! Every tiny move you make, causes your body to betray you making you more and more horny. You hear a mewling whimper coming from your own throat. You’d do anything to be let out of the belt and that realization frightens you even more. The elevator zooms downward. You have absolutely no idea what to expect. Your mind is barely even working at this point. The sexual tension coursing through your body makes thinking an impossibility. Not only are the clothes you’ve been crammed into stimulating your poor trapped crotch, but you are standing shoulder to shoulder with two dozen girls dressed like lingerie models. You can feel the heat coming off of them, every move causing skin and satin to caress you.



The elevator doors open. You don’t know what floor you’ve landed on, but it’s below the lobby. The car is too crammed full of buxom distractions for you to get a good glimpse of the control panel either. You do know one thing. You’re below ground now.



You feel like a cow in the center of a herd as you are ushered out of the elevator and down yet another hallway. This one is not nearly as nice as the ones that were upstairs. There are no paintings, mirrors or decorations on the walls. They are stark, and no-nonsense.



As the group of you are ushered down the hallway, the clump straightens itself into a line. All of you marching behind Queen Lemming Payne. You watch the girls ahead of you, trying not to focus on how much the stupid skimpy outfit you’re wearing is causing the thing in your belt to ache. The other girls are silent. There’s no giggling, talking or even a whisper. It is almost eerie. The only sound is the heels clicking in near-unison on the hard floor as the group of you march to whatever degrading hell is next.



Your eyes drop to the backside of the girl in front of you. The heart-shaped globes shifting in the tight satiny material only inches from you causes another squirt down below and liquid oozes down your legs. Your panties have hit maximum saturation point. They will hold no more. You wince as the liquid creeps downward, hitting the top of your left stocking.



The strange procession of flesh continues to the end of the hallway, where the whole group of you are loaded onto another elevator…this one isn’t nearly as nice as the previous one. As you’re crammed in, you maneuver yourself towards the front so you can see the control panel. The first obvious thing you notice is that this elevator car is also key-card activated. The second thing you notice is that you’re currently on the top floor, despite that you are already below ground…and there are a LOT of buttons on this thing, labeled with the alphabet instead of numbers. You watch with both fear and curiosity as the letters progress, the downward motion of the car symbolic of the way your day has gone.



The car stops moving at letter J. You count it off in your head. . . J is 10 floors, you’re at LEAST 10 floors below ground!



The doors open to reveal yet another hallway which opens up into a series of bunk beds. At least 10 or 15 on each side. At the very end, the barracks opens up into a small alcove with a few tables and chairs. The walls are a pink color, stark and undecorated save for a single word painted in flowery cursive right by the elevator door: Jiggles.



“Jiggles’ out!” Payne barks.



“Good luck. Keep your head down and try not to get involved with anything,” The voice is soft next to your ear. You turn your head to see Nikki leaving moving slowly forward as girls file out of the car. It seems like such a long time ago that you were lusting after her in the lobby.



“What’s a Jiggle?” you whisper back.



“My last name silly, Nikki Jiggles. Don’t worry, you’ll get one soon.” Then she is beyond whispering distance and is moving out the door, leaving you with no one but Miss Payne and a handful of scantily clad strangers.



Even as the elevator starts down again, you can’t get over it. They’ve renamed these poor girls with sexual names. They’re going to rename YOU! You’re going to be assigned a last name. A horrible, sexually teasing last name!



There are only three girls left when the door opens on S.



“Swallows! Rita . . . your last name is Swallows. This is your floor. Bed number eight is yours.” You let yourself be pushed out by the other girls who also are getting out on this floor. They ignore you completely for the most part, hurrying toward the end of the hallway, toward the identical lounge area that each floor has with one or two girls peeling out to find their bunk. Swallows? You feel the blush deepen on your cheeks. That’s your last name now. Rita Swallows? They can’t REALLY be serious. Who will ever take you seriously with a name like that. You sound like a porn star. You nibble your lower lip, as you catch site of yourself in the chrome surface of the elevator. You look like a porn star too. And with a name like Swallows everyone will think…



A tightness has formed in your stomach. Your name is now Rita Swallows. You’ve lost your identity completely and been given this horrible new one.



You stagger slightly down the hallway, your legs shaking from this new situation almost as much as having to walk in the heels. Why should being given yet another embarrassing name affect you so deeply?



Your heart is beating hard in your chest and you’re having trouble breathing. You’re trapped. Trapped in this sexually, submissive hell. You have no way of getting back to the ground level and even if you did, all of your identification is gone. All that is left is Rita Swallows. You’re having trouble getting your breathing under control as the true panic sets in. You blink back tears, wanting to scream for help, wanting to beg everyone and anyone for release… not just from the horrid place itself but from the sexual torment that is still oozing down your leg. If you don’t cum soon…



You take a tentative step and then another. The hall opens up into a giant room with two-level bunks on either side. Bed eight is on the bottom right in the middle of the room. At the end of the row of beds is a small gathering area where a handful of other girls have gathered together, giggling and talking together.



“Shhh. New meat.”



You blush uncontrollably, knowing that each and every eye of this small huddled group of girls is now staring at you. Staring at you in your little pink outfit. Each girl in the group is a pinup wet dream. Worse so are you!



“Hi, I’m…”



“You’re the new Rita. We KNOW!” The blonde’s voice drips with condescension. “Is it just me or could this one skip the bimbo training?”



The other girls giggle, turning their backs to you and going back to their huddled whispering. Anger boils up in you and tears well uncontrollably in your eyes. You blink them back, even angrier at yourself at the wetness creeping down your cheeks. You’re even behaving like a girl now. What has this place done to you.



You turn to go find a bed, feeling very out of place, every step an uncertainty. Your heart is beating so hard that it must be trying to escape your chest. Claustrophobia has kicked in, along with fear and anger and that never-ending arousal that just won’t go away. Your hand snakes down between your legs and you pry at the belt, tears free flowing now. You need it off. If you could just get control of this horniness maybe you could think clearly enough to figure out a way out of this infernal hell. Your fingers find the tiny hole that allows you to pee, and you desperately try to stimulate yourself through it. No luck. You pull and pry and twist and nothing moves. Nothing but a pitiful throb from within it that coats your hands with slime. You cry harder, sinking to your knees. The stockings and robe caress as you go, aggravating the problem. You’re in a sensual prison of torture where every move makes it worse.



The hand on your shoulder makes a soft cry escape through your slick pink lips.



“Don’t cry, Rita,”. A dark-skinned Goddess stands above you, offering her hand to help you stand up. You clasp it and stagger awkwardly to your feet, barely able to make your legs work in the horrid heels.



“See girls,” your new friend says sweetly, “She wants to escape too. You won’t spoil our plans will you sweetie?” She turns to you, bringing you into the small, huddled group. They all look at you suspiciously.



You shake your head rapidly. No. No no no no no. They gaze at you with more suspicion.



“…please…” you beg them, “I have to get out of here, I’m not really a…”



“A slut?” the condescending blonde laughs, “Tell that to the big wet spot on the front of your nightie.” The girls all giggle as you look down horrified. Your arousal has led to a huge wet stain on the front of your outfit. You gasp, covering it with your hands. You blush uncontrollably again, knowing that your current position makes you look all the more like a pinup model caught in a compromising position.



“Bridget! Be nice!”



The words are barked hard and demanding from your new friend. She puts a comforting arm around you. “This is Rita’s first day. You remember YOUR first day don’t you?”



Tears start to well again, this time from gratitude that at least you’re not alone…at least you have someone sticking up for you for the first time today.



“We’re planning our escape tonight, Rita! Are you in?” Your new friend smiles warmly at you, and you nod. Anything to get out of this horrible place. Despite the glaring of Bridget, you’re brought into the huddle.



“Here’s the plan. There’s a new, investing couple staying in the suites tonight. Mr. Manning said he’ll be checking in down here. Bridget and Tanya will swipe one of their keycards, and then we’ll take the service elevators up to the basement. From their we can use the maintenance tunnels which lead to the park and we’ll be out of this crazy place. I know a guy… who’ll get us out of these belts and then we’re free!”



Hope fills your chest. Thank God you get to be a part of this. You’ve got to get out!



“What do I need to do?” Your voice is a timid whisper.



“You…” your new mentor says solemnly, “You are going to be the distraction.”



A shudder. You don’t like the sound of that at all.



There’s no time for thought. Behind you the elevator dings and you hear that blonde bitch Bridget say, “Show time!”



“…wait…”, but your words are lost in the hubbub. You’re ushered over to the elevator by several sets of hands just in time to see the doors slowly slide open. Inside are two people, one male, one female. Both are dressed impeccably, although the woman seems to be somewhat on the tardy side with her short skirt and obvious breast implants. The man’s eyes glimmer as he sees the feast of femininity standing in front of him. You shudder knowing you’re part of this feast.



“I was told to ask for Lynda.” His voice cuts through the silent thrall of girls standing in a huddle around the door. Your eyes dart back and forth and then widen as your new friend steps forward.



“I’m Lynda. I understand you need a Toy for the night.”



The man smiles like a wolf and nods. The woman to his right looks at him for a second and then drops her eyes, her cheeks turning a vibrant red.



Lynda leans over to you and whispers softly in your ear. “Seduce him and we’ll try to get the keycard.”



Your eyes bulge out of your head. What!?! You stare into the elevator and suddenly realize that all the other girls have stepped back away from Lynda and yourself.



“This is Rita.” Lynda drags you forward toward the elevator door. “See if she’s to your liking.”



THIS is the plan!?! You have to flirt with this couple to distract them? Your legs grow weak and you nibble on your lower lip unsure what exactly to do.



“Hi, I’m Rita. How may I make your day better?” You say the expected greeting automatically, blinking a little too much which just flutters your long eyelashes. Lynda nudges you forward and you stagger into the elevator practically falling into his arms. He catches you with ease, but doesn’t let go. You look up at him, helplessly. Nothing for it. Time to turn on the charm and maybe, just maybe, they’ll get his keycard and you’ll get out of this crazy place.



“Oooh thank you sir.” You try to purr it at him, giving him what you can only hope is a sexy pout. “I’m such a klutz and these heels are soooo high.”



You give him a little giggle, and inside a part of you dies. Why are you doing this? How have they turned you into this stupid flirting bimbo so easily?



“What can I do to thank you for catching me?” You gasp at your own forwardness even as the words leave your lips. It’s a good show. Now if you can just disentangle yourself from him. Surely that was enough time. What more could they possibly expect from you?



“This one will do fine, Lynda. Thank you.”



What!?!



You squirm in his grip to turn toward Lynda your face a panic. She smiles at you. It is not a nice smile.



“Enjoy her, sir. You’re quite lucky. She’s a virgin.”



You whimper and then sob. What is going on? What happened to the plan?



You squirm out of his grip and take a step out of the elevator toward Lynda who still smiles at you like a cat at a canary.



“The plan…” you hiss at her desperately.



She leans forward and kisses your cheek, whispering seductively into your ear.



“There is no plan, you stupid slut. There is no escape. Someone had to go with this asshole tonight and you won the lottery. Do what he says and maybe you won’t get ripped in two. I hear he’s huge…



With a soft shove she sends you careening back into the elevator. He catches you again, even as the doors begin to slide shut.



“…no…” the words drift past your lips even as the evil, grinning faces of all of the other girls disappear behind the doors.



You are dragged through a labyrinthine maze of corridors, elevators and reception rooms. He has you by the wrist as if you were a small child, the horrid heels making you prance along behind him taking thousands of steps to his very few. Your heels click loudly in your ears as you scurry after him, and you find yourself envying the sandals that the woman walking alongside you wears. The trip is a whirlwind blur, never an opportunity for escape. Not that your mind is capable of much rational thought. How did you end up in this position?



Your eyes keep finding his hand gripped around your wrist. Your arm looks so small and feminine in his grasp, the body connected to it can’t possibly be yours.



Then with a swipe of a key and a flurry of movement you find yourself at the final destination. Your hand goes to your mouth to cover the whimper that escapes.



You’re in what can only be a hotel suite…

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September 2014
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