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The Club of Fools Ch. 01

By: sublocked



"I want $1,000 per week from now on," she said smugly, a deep voice like Bea Arthur's. Victoria sat back behind her large mahogany desk, her auburn hair shining more reddish than normal due to the rays of late afternoon sunshine streaming into the luxurious office secreted within the modest house with many secrets. The rays carried that Casablanca look of dust or smoke and all that was missing was a cat on the window sill to finish the sleepy and exotic appearance of the scene.

She sat there, relaxed but alert and confident, not beautiful but attractive, as it was the air she had, the air she breathed, the air she controlled with her very presence, Jason thought. She worked with what she had and made it compulsive, made men want her, with her dark eyes and thick full lips, all perfectly made up. He had seen her wake up in the morning, and there were rough landscapes of acne scars on both cheeks. They were invisible now, paved with her domination and control. She shifted her bottom on the chair and he heard the sound of satin on leather, a singing, slippery sound.

Earlier in the day, when she had asked him to come to her place, Jason had thought that was odd. Since he had found her months ago, he had always called her when he wanted her. With this call, he had hoped and assumed it was for some sort of game, a sexual game, and he had been excited all day in anticipation. Now she simply said this? 

Jason leaned forward in his chair, a look of puzzlement on his face, and said, "What do you mean? What for?" 

"Because that's the price I decided on. Could have been more, could have been less," she said with a shrug in her exotic contralto voice. The sound of her seemed to make his breastbone vibrate; it was so full of timber. Then she smiled with her mouth closed revealing her deep dimples accentuated in the shadow of the sun's rays.

"I don't understand," he said.

"What's to understand? You don't need to understand. I want $1,000 per week, and you're going to pay it. It's really quite simple."

"Well, actually no, I'm not going to pay you a grand a week. Why would I do that? I pay you when I use you. That's our deal. That's it. End of story." He was exasperated and getting angry. Was this some kind of joke?

Now Victoria's smile faded icily. "Use me? I see. Well, that was what you thought. This is now. You see, I've been using you; you don't use ME." The implication was obvious.

Jason was steaming as he blurted out, "Why the fuck would I pay that? Fuck you! Who do you think you are? You're a fucking hooker; that's what you are, and you do what I pay you to do, when I want you to do it. Is that clear enough for you?" He stood and leaned on her desk with his chin jutted out toward her, threateningly.

She observed his face and mannerisms, amused. His blue eyes sparked and flashed with anger and his cheeks were rigid with rage. Oh, he was so handsome, she thought, but such a "golden boy", a man with a gift of looks and family wealth. It bought him a law degree and connections and his perfect teeth. This guy couldn't miss, could he?

But he did miss. He treated women badly, and one of those women was her friend. It was time to pay up.

In her long silence after his rant, he started to flinch under her gaze, his left eyebrow twitching. Clearly he was beginning to wonder what she had on him, and she couldn't help it; she laughed.

Struggling to quell the amusing thoughts, she said, "Well, you seem very sure of yourself. Let me explain some things to you Jason. You have a reputation for using women around town. Let's just call me a women's representative to uh, do some adjustments to your attitude, put you in your place. I want you to watch this video please."

Victoria's smugness turned to a calm domination of the situation as she turned the laptop screen around to face him on the top of the desk. Jason looked on, puzzled at her smugness, his apprehension mounting.

The image was of him in a video. He seemed alert but there was a disarming dullness to his eyes as if he was reading a script. He was saying things that he had no recollection of saying. Ever.

It went like this, "Hi, my name is Jason Muller. I am a gay transvestite. I really enjoy dressing up like a woman and getting fucked in the ass. This video will let you and anyone who watches it know that I'm a submissive sissy. I need everyone to know. I'm tired of hiding it." In the video he smiled, totally aware, as he faded away and was replaced by a Jason dressed in a laced up corset and attached stockings getting pegged from behind by an unidentifiable woman dressed in latex and equipped with a strap-on. He also had high heels on and his face was painted with makeup. A blond wig splayed ringlets all over his back and hung to the floor in front of his shoulders as he balanced himself on the floor, doggie style. The woman's face was obscured with a clear latex hood and Jason was grunting and repeating over and over, "Yes, yes, oh my God, yes. Fuck me, please fuck me!" The camera panned around to show his face twisted in anticipated ecstasy, a weak smile on his face. He opened his eyes, which were glazed with lust.

After several thrusts by the woman, she reached around and grasped his penis, almost instantly making him ejaculate, convulsing wildly as he pushed back against her thrusts. He groaned and smiled, staring directly, but unfocused, at the camera. His lips trembled and his eyes crossed slightly. The video faded to white. 

The end.

There was silence for a few seconds and then Jason said, "What is this? What's going on here? That's...that can't be me. I, I mean, how could I...uh... I don't understand. You can't do this. I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that. That stuff doesn't even turn me on. That's fake; I didn't do that."

"But you did. Here's the proof." And she tapped the computer gently. "We have the proof."

"We?" he asked fearfully.

"Yes, we."

"I see. So you're trying to blackmail me."

Victoria smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, no, I wouldn't do that. I just want you to join my club, or stable, of men who need to learn some life lessons...that you can't go through life using women the way you do. The price for membership in this stable is $1,000 per week. It's a very elite club of former studs, and once you're a member, you can't leave unless we release you (I haven't released any yet). If you do try, the video might find a way into the public, or maybe your firm would be interested in seeing it. Depends on what we decide to do."

Jason now had a look of genuine alarm on his face. He said, "But I've got a law practice. That would..." Then he had a thought, "Wait; prostitutes don't do this. I pay you for discretion and I expect discretion, damn it!" he yelled, outraged.

"Exactly," she replied calmly while getting up to make a drink at the bar, "Now you get it. Discretion. The price for discretion is $1,000 per week. Considering your exploits and sexual tendencies, you might want to consider paying for said discretion. Want a scotch?"

Ignoring her offer, he growled at her threateningly, "You can't do this. I'll fucking ruin you. Prostitutes can't make a living if they break the rule of discretion. Word gets around. You wouldn't dare!"

"Well," Victoria laughed, "You better look before you leap. Most lawyers do that, don't they? Let me explain. This video is on an "un-triggered" website, meaning that it goes fully and openly online at the slightest of pushback from you. If you like I can put you in contact with others in my club. Let them explain how things are for them. You actually know some of them, or at least know of them."

"Club? What the fuck are you talking about? This is insane! You're fucking crazy! No way. Fuck you!" he yelled. Then his curiosity got the best of him and he asked, "I know some? How many are there?"

"With you, that will be seven, all paying at least $1,000 per week."

"You've got to be fucking kidding! You can't be getting away with this. That's like owning slaves."

Victoria smiled and answered his three questions, "No, yes, and yes they are slaves. You are now one."

Now Jason smiled, all bravado, "No, you're just fucking with me. You can't get away with this."

She ignored his confidence and continued, "I should add that if the club members do not pay or do not do as they are told, the site address goes to associates and clients, as well as family and friends if anyone tries to expose the source of the blackmail as you call it. I'm a prostitute; I can absorb the defamation. You, on the other hand, would never recover; you're a trial lawyer and you'd be ruined. Because the whole world will know that the video is real, and it is you in it, dressed in drag and having a wonderful orgasm. There is no written record of a financial transaction here, is there? So there is no blackmail, is there? If the money does come up in proceedings, it's just a hooker's fee, isn't that so? I want $1,000 per week...for discretion."

Jason was in a rage. "That is NOT me in the video. It can't be, because I didn't do that on camera. So you can go fuck yourself!"

"Oh Jason, Jason," she said with feigned fatigue, "It was you and you know it. You came to me for some rough and bizarre sex and I gave it to you. You wanted bondage but I dug deeper. I have ways of finding out true fantasies. You're such a pretty little bitch aren't you?"

He couldn't help it; he blushed, but thankfully it was impossible to tell if it was from the humiliation or the anger. For the first time he was speechless, sputtering incoherently. Yes, it was his secret fantasy, but he had never told her, or anyone; he couldn't have. He would never do that. It had been his shameful sick secret ever since he came of age. He had compensated by being aggressive and by using and abusing the very women he wanted to become, never allowing them to get too close for fear they would find out his dirty little secret. He had assumed that any woman would find out eventually, so instead of risking that embarrassment and shame, he would ditch them before they had a chance to ditch him. Now, somehow, Victoria had found him out, and he hadn't the foggiest idea how she had not only found out, but also how she had enacted his fantasies without his awareness. He was frightened by this, no, terrified, like an amnesiac might feel.

Victoria continued, "In reality though, if you chose not to cooperate, I would break your personal news to the world slowly, perhaps first to...hmm, say your brothers or your sister, maybe your mother and father, then one neighbor, you know...Geoff? Your parents' charitable foundation might be impacted...who knows? You see how this would go. This is Monday. I want my first payment on Friday. Cash."

Unrestrained anger, born from a crescendo of helplessness, flew out of him like a lightning bolt and he seized the computer and threw it against the wall where it then slammed down on the floor with a crack and the noise of splitting plastic and warping hard drives. "This is what I think of this whole fucking thing. Fuck you!" And he stomped out of the room in a blind rage and fog of fear.

Victoria followed him doggedly as he exited the front door for his Cayenne parked out in front of the house. "The computer was about a $1,000, so I expect $2,000 this Friday, delivered. In person," she yelled.

As he exited the front door, he shot a middle finger back at her, like the last defiant act of a mouse about to die in the claws of a cat. The front door was still open as Victoria calmly watched him pull away from the curb, rubber losing friction with the pavement. She pulled a cell phone out of her purse hanging by the door and texted, "See you on Friday."

Jason was already around the corner and heading for the freeway when his Bluetooth screen lit up with a new text message. He pressed "read" and the computer voice stated his future in its sinister, ominous and emotionless voice. He heard what it said, but what it really meant was, "Jason, you are so fucking screwed."

CHAPTER TWO

It was Thursday night at 8:00 when Victoria phoned him.

"Hello Jason. Good to hear your voice. Don't hang up; I have something I need you to see. Write this down."

Jason's anger on Monday had now been replaced with fear and caution as he wrote down what she was dictating to him. It was a website address and he knew what that meant.

"Read it back to me," she said. He did, and then she added, "I have the site turned on for five minutes. Then it gets turned off until...well, you decide." And she hung up.

Jason was panicking as he hustled into his study to turn the computer on. 

There he was. Only there was more, much more. Another video showed him masturbating on a dominatrix's boot and then licking it off. Another showed him on his knees in front of a man with a giant cock bobbing up and down in front of his nose and mouth. Jason's hands were tied behind his back but there was nobody really forcing him to... Then the image froze. The connection was lost.

The phone rang. "How did you do that? I don't remember anything! I don't even like that!" he said with a trembling voice.

"Pharmaceuticals. A former nurse's secret. Does it matter? See you tomorrow? Oh, and call me ma'am from now on okay?"

Jason started repeating himself on the phone in a very uncharacteristic un-lawyer-like panic, "Fuck...you can't...you can't do this...Jesus...you can't. Look I'll make a deal...pay you 10 weeks, $10,000, $11,000 right now and I get the video...okay?"

"Jason, the video is NEVER going away. $2,000 tomorrow and $1,000 a week till I say stop, if I say stop. Understand? Oh, and you forgot something already."

Jason was thinking frantically, "Okay, I'll pay you 52 weeks, one year, $52,000 and it all goes away. Okay?"

Victoria sighed impatiently and said, "You don't listen well Jason. There is NO negotiation here, and if you persist, you owe me $10,000 tomorrow, AND risk going viral. So what do you say? Remember what you forgot?"

"I can't fucking believe this! Jesus, okay, I'll be there at 10:00 tomorrow morning with $1,000, no...$2,000."

"And?"

"I'll see you tomorrow. Ma'am. Fuck!"

"Good girl! I guess maybe you aren't so stupid after all!" she said with relaxed triumph. She hung up.

Jason stood in the study holding the dead phone in his hand and on his ear. There were no more words. He just shook his head from side to side in utter disbelief.

He thought of some of his friends in "low places". Maybe he should... No, there had to be another way. Besides, if she died, two things could happen; it would trigger the website and all the people that he knew would be aware of who and what he was. Then the videos and the death would be added together to send him to jail for the rest of his life.

Honestly, he had no idea how to get out of this. Not a clue. That's why he had $2,000 in his wallet. That's also why he had booked off work tomorrow, cancelled all his meetings.

He wondered whether his new club had a name.

The Club of Fools Ch. 02



Author's Notes:

(1) Before someone goes off half-baked about this submission, please read chapter one. I like to tell a story that has erotica in it, in contrast to erotica with a faint storyline in it.

(2) This is FICTION.

(3) There are bizarre scenes herein, sexual to some, perhaps horrifying to others.

(4) Please be aware that Victoria's activities are illegal. She is a type of female psychopath. 

(5) And the wax head idea? Do NOT try this at home as it would be very dangerous.

(6) Many will question the possibility of this plot ever happening in real life. But just ask the question: COULD it happen? And the answer is: yes it could. Having said that, that's all I need to tell a story.

(7) Finally, always remember that truth is stranger than fiction.

*****

Jason waited on Victoria's now familiar front doorstep after ringing her doorbell. The morning rain was sideways in the cutting October wind and he strained to lean away from the drenching onslaught, causing him to have his face closer to the door than he wanted when it opened. He jumped back in a start when it did open.

Victoria greeted him as if he was a party guest, dressed in simple black Lululemon Capri tights and a form-fitting red top which barely covered her generous breasts. Those breasts had also bounced with a startled response to Jason being so close to the door. Her hair was still wet, probably from a shower, and she had clearly not had the time or the inclination to tend to its drying and styling. But with her, any state of undoing was still an attractive state.

"Come in Jason! Good to see you," she exclaimed, "My God, did you ever see such rain for October? The leaves are dropping like rain themselves."

She was talking as if nothing distasteful had happened between them, and Jason just stared at her bleakly as he entered the front hallway. He shrugged his shoulders and shook himself like a dog, shivering as she shut the door behind him.

"Let me take your coat. I know you've booked the day off, so you might as well relax."

Jason glared at her as if she had three heads and said, "How did you know I booked the day off?" She was about to answer when he continued, "Oh never mind; maybe I don't want to know. Uh, I'm not staying. Here's what you wanted." And he handed her the envelope with the money. This is when it got strange. She said sternly, but with an incongruous smile, "Of course you're staying. Take all your clothes off please. NOW."

Jason tilted his and expressed disbelief, "What? No. I said I was leaving. Fuck you! Here's your money."

"Jason, why are you talking like that?" she said sweetly but now with no accompanying smile, "Please come in and stay for a bit. You really, really should stay. Please. I have something for you. We can maybe have some coffee, and later on some wine...you know, make a day of it. This is part of the scene that you wanted isn't it?"

"What scene?" he asked, "Jesus, you're fucking nuts!" 

"Ah, good acting, my little stud! Now come in and make yourself at home. Clothes off please," she said.

"Jesus, I'm gonna fucking kill you if I get the chance," he said, "Shit!" Then he started pulling his clothes off until he was standing in front of her with just his tightie-whities on. She wiggled her finger indicating that those too had to hit the floor. The scene got weirder still, as when he dropped his shorts, he stood there, clearly aroused and ready. Why and for what, he had no idea.

Victoria walked around him a couple of times inspecting him, feeling his hair, looking into his ears; then she searched his clothing on the floor, finding his cell phone, and putting it in her purse. "Okay, you're clear," she said, "Hang your clothes in the closet and come with me."

Now Jason understood. She thought he might be wired for sound. Why hadn't he thought of that, he wondered? Mind you, it would not have worked, would it? Nonetheless, he decided to do that sometime in the future, as she would inevitably relax and he could trap her in her blackmail. This idea was soon quashed by her statement, "Whenever I summon you from now on, the first thing you do when you enter is to get your clothes off. Is that clear?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" he said, exasperated, "Really?"

"Yes. Really. And I do NOT like your attitude right now! Just so you'll know, your file is on what I would call "trial probation" right now. Until your routine is established, one false move and there will be an instant trigger response from Suzie that you'll regret immensely. Now, put these panties on and cover up your thingy please; you're gross. Go on; I know you like wearing panties."

Jason couldn't help it; he not only remained aroused, his arousal increased so that his breathing was now almost as rapid as his heart beat. It was intensely embarrassing to be exposed both mentally and physically like this. When he pulled the panties up, a wet spot appeared almost instantly at the front at the end of his bulge.

"Well, isn't that sweet?" Victoria said with more than a hint of sarcasm, "Sit down while we go through a few things. You've made me grumpy."

He looked around and decided to sit on the sofa so that he was facing the kitchen. He sat there nervously in the living room, a room straight out of the sixties, with a half-wall separating it from a dinette adjacent to the kitchen. But it was an odd combination of sixties layout and 21st century furnishings and decorations. She was a golfer, and there were numerous golf trophies on one shelf. The walls were graced with an array of black and white sketches of nudes, all of them women. He had not really spent time here before; he had always been led to her dungeon in the basement. It felt oddly more intimate. Jason was silent, but his inner thoughts echoed around in his head like banging drums, the misery of shame, embarrassment and above all the carnal betrayal of his arousal, the tent in his panties. 

Flashes of memory arced in his brain like fragmented dreams as he sat there. Some other woman, his hands...they were tied..., a man...there was something pushed into his ass. He shook his head and shivered. "How did you drug me?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue, "What were the drugs?"

"As I said, a former nurse's secret. You don't need to know."

Jason shook his head slowly and said, "Everything you're doing here is illegal. You could go to jail for a very long time you know, and you will. I'll figure out a way."

"Well, Mr. Lawyer, as a matter of fact I do know that. That's why I have a system like I have, to ensure that doesn't happen. Now, if you don't mind, let me explain your new situation to you, Mr. pantie boy." She sat on the love seat opposite him and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands together.

"I want you to understand that in addition to the $1,000 per week, there are other required, umm, "services". I have a club of my own in addition to yours. It's an all-female club and we all share certain, uh, appetites and sexual tendencies that we need to act out on real people, just like you. You're part of that now. Now I want to introduce you to your club kit and then I want to measure you for a bondage corset I need to order for you. All the males have one." She watched him blanch, and then turn red in seconds, a perfect sexual flush of arousal at those words. He was so easy to read.

"Don't try to hide from it; I know you'd like that," she said, smiling. Then she shook her head in disbelief, "Honestly, your fantasies are like "hunter orange" in a green forest!"

Jason put his face in his hands briefly but didn't comment or even try to defend himself. It seemed strangely humiliating to be called a male instead of a man, as if maleness was simply an anatomical description, whereas a man was something more than that, perhaps suggesting virility and dominance.

Now Victoria pulled a black canvas shopping bag from the coffee table. "This is your kit. I'll explain each item."

Jason shook his head in incredulity at the predicament he was in. Seemingly out of context he said, "Who's Suzie?"

Victoria smiled. "Huh? Oh yes, I suppose you don't remember her, do you? She's my wife. And she's the one who did the video of you when you were having your homosexual affair. That was precious, by the way."

Jason thought about those videos and asked, "Precious. Yeah, right. Victoria, that video...the one with the cock in front of my face when my hands were tied...did I, you know, did I...?" He couldn't bring himself to say the words, and yet the unsaid words seemed to materialize out of nothing and hang in the air.

"Ah yes, that was a good one," she answered mischievously, "You'll never know, will you? Well, I shouldn't say that actually; you will find out if our arrangement falls apart. Along with everyone else you know I might add."

Jason sighed in his small but significant defeat, "Yeah, I suppose so." He had to ride this out.

From inside the bag, she pulled out the first item, a large rubber bag of some sort similar to one that his mother used to have filled with ice or warm water for her headaches. A long tube with a squeeze off valve was attached to it. He looked at her, naïve and puzzled.

As if he had asked the question, she answered, "An enema bag. Fill it with warm water and a small amount of soap. Hang it in the shower at neck level and insert that end there in your ass and release the valve to fill yourself up. When the bag is empty and you're full, hold the water inside you for as long as you can and then get out of the shower and expel it into the toilet. Repeat. Do this prior to every visit. I want you clean for gay and bi scenes."

Jason was having incongruous thoughts of both disgust and arousal and he squinted in confusion. He managed a manly, "Oh, for fuck's sake! You know I'm not gay. Why would...?"

She interrupted him, "But the video seems to suggest otherwise doesn't it? Oh, and the tent in your panties. You really are a piece of work, aren't you?"

This rendered him speechless. He was not used to being speechless, and he didn't like it.

She reached into the bag again. This time she pulled out a very heavy stainless steel butt plug which she passed to him. He hefted its weight in his left hand, frowned, and nodded his head up and down as he said, "I see..."

"I think you're starting to get the picture, yes. That gets inserted after your enema. The lubricant is in the bag. Use lots of it. You'll get used to it. Note that it has a small handle so I can work it a bit if I choose. It's amazing what that does to a male when it probes the prostate."

The next item was a red hood made of fairly thick translucent and red-colored latex. There would have been an opening at each eye except for the fact that a set of swimming goggles had been cleverly sealed as one to the hood which would allow clear vision with no compression directly on the victim's eyeballs. The entire hood was a sealed unit and had no air holes at the nose or openings at the ears. In fact, sealed at the mouth was a flexible device similar to a snorkel mouth piece designed to be inserted into the subject's mouth, but filling more of the oral cavity. A short air tube extended from it straight out below the nose.

Victoria said, "This hood is actually for your benefit. This is your default hood. Whenever I have a club function and you are serving us, your identity will not be revealed, provided you do as you're told. Sometimes I also have functions where all of the males are here as well, and each will be wearing a similar hood. You won't know them and they won't know you. I think that would be prudent, don't you? To put it on, turn it inside out; insert the mouth piece and then pull and stretch the rest of it over your head. It's really tight but fairly comfortable. I tried it myself. Put it on so you know how it feels."

Jason's heart was racing wildly as he placed the rubber mouthpiece into his mouth. He was shocked to find that it almost filled it so that he couldn't form words. His cheeks bulged with the filling, but the breathing was easy through the tube as he stretched the hood over his head, adjusting the eyepieces over his eyes. It was surprising how much of his hearing was taken from him. Most of what he could hear was the roar of his own breath going in and out of the tube. He tried to speak but could not.

"As soon as you strip down when you arrive, you'll put this hood on immediately, so I don't have to listen to you or even look at your face. Unless I say otherwise. You can take it off for now."

The smell of rubber stayed with him as he peeled it off his head. That was a "trippy" device, he thought, and indeed, it was something that made his mind flood with erotic sensations of bondage and discipline.

Next she pulled another latex hood out of the bag, a black one which was similar in most respects to the first, except for the obvious color difference. Upon closer inspection, it had an opening at the mouth and therefore had no need for a breathing tube.

"Commonly we like oral sex," Victoria explained, "You will wear this hood when required. Again, discretion is my motto; I won't expose your identity if I ask you to change to this hood. You'll be asked to do it in private. Everything clear so far?"

"Jesus. Yeah I guess so."

"Good. By the way there's no need to call me Jesus; Goddess will suffice if you feel the need to deify me."

She smiled at her joke. He did not.

The last item was a clear plastic device that he had seen images of on websites and had scoffed at its stupidity. It was a ball-trap male chastity device that, when installed, did not allow the wearer to touch his penis in any way. There was a hole at the end to allow cleaning with swabs, and for urine escape. That was it. A small luggage lock or numbered plastic locking tag kept it in place, and theoretically tamperproof.

"Seriously?" he said, "I've seen these on some websites. These are silly. I can get this off so easily."

Victoria smiled. "Physically, that may be so, but not if you want to stay incognito."

"So what!" he scoffed and shrugged, "I could just cut this plastic locking tag off with a pair of scissors."

"Yes. Yes you could. But I don't think you better do that, do you? That tag has a unique number on it. If you arrive here without that device intact as installed today, you know the consequences, don't you? Put it on."

"Today? Now? Come on. You think I'm going to wear this all the time?"

"Until I remove it," she said simply, "Now put it on."

It was a little more complex than he thought, and there were many separate pieces. His erection did not help, but eventually, after much fumbling, he got the ring around his penis and ball sac. With all the effort his penis had now gone limp and he was able to insert it into the tube and attach it to the ring with the numbered plastic tag. 

Victoria got up and went to him to confirm that the device was indeed secured. With a pen she wrote down the number of the tag on a scrap of paper. Then she lifted his manhood and clicked the plastic with her fingernail. He felt nothing. But he grew again, or at least he tried to grow. His stubby length pushed against the clear plastic in all directions.

Victoria looked on with pleasure. "Oh this is ideal; you're a grower, not a shower. When you try to get hard, it won't have any place to go, will it? Perfect. All dressed up and no place to go."

Jason batted it around in despair. "Look, uh, this is really stupid, don't you think? Come on! Isn't the blackmail of $1,000 a week enough? What the hell am I supposed to do if I get lucky at a club or something?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Well," Jason said with barely concealed exasperation, "When I go to the Jasper Club... Well, you know, what if I'm getting on nicely with some chick and, and well, now what am I supposed to do?"

"Well," Victoria said, giggling, "One of two things will happen; you'll go home alone; or you'll cut it off and have sex. The latter will have pretty severe consequences, won't it? Now, pull your panties up and let's have a coffee. Let's just say that I have some control now, I believe." She started to put the bag back down on the coffee table but then she remembered one more thing and, bringing out a piece of paper, she handed it to him and said, "Read this. You'll be required to sign and date this at every visit prior to us using your services."

It was a waiver and it basically stated that (a) he was a prostitute; (b) he understood that he would be treated badly by the group; and (c) that he was okay with that. There was a place for him to sign and date it.

He looked up at her and said flatly, "This isn't a legal document and you can't force me to sign it. It wouldn't hold up in a court of law. In fact, it's ridiculous."

"Say whatever you like, but you WILL sign it. And you'll sign it at EVERY visit. And you know it. Furthermore, once the right (or wrong) people see your collection of videos and see that you performed of your own free will with full participation and mutual enjoyment, what do you think those people will think? Tell me. What would they take from that?"

Cornered again. As a lawyer, he wasn't used to this. Jason was tight lipped, silently brooding and sweating, thinking desperately about how to deal with this. He just seemed to be reacting to her, order by order, always feeling off-balance, and unable to be pre-emptive. For the life of him, he couldn't realistically figure out any way to deal with this other than through the impulse of strangling her. 

But (he had a thought) , maybe, just maybe he didn't need to deal with it. He did enjoy the physical acts after all. He liked rough sex, bondage, discipline, all the bizarre stuff. Maybe he could just do as he was told and enjoy the ride. It's just that it was so humiliating to be forced to do these things, and he had no idea what she was going to demand of him. And this was so backwards. He was PAYING a prostitute, but the prostitute was doing what SHE wanted. He had no say in anything. Worse than that, she could ruin him if she chose. It was the coercion he hated, the absolute control of his body and mind.

Then it dawned on him; he was the prostitute here.

He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table while she made him a coffee. "Cream and sugar?" she asked.

"Just cream please," he said. He felt like being sarcastic and saying, "Woof, woof" or "bah, bah" as that was how he felt, a powerless puppy or a sheep following the shepherd. There didn't seem to be any way out of this and he wondered what sort of plans she really had for him other than the $1,000 per week income stream. He glanced around the kitchen, self-conscious, sitting there in panties and nothing else, holding his "club kit" on his lap like a purse. The smell of bacon hung in the air, and now coffee. It warmed him as he took a sip, and it made him even more conscious of his lack of clothing. Goose bumps formed on his arms and legs. He shifted in his seat slightly and the chastity cage slipped on the fabric of his panties and made a solid sound as it contacted the chair.

Victoria sat beside him, sideways in her chair, staring at him while she sipped her own coffee. Awkward moments passed. Then she said, "You know, you will enjoy a lot of what we do to you. Some of it (actually a lot of it) you won't enjoy, but that's just the way it is. Anyway, I suggest you just get used to doing as you're told and taking enjoyment from it when you can. It'll be easier for you. We've gotten into the habit of using the males for various get-togethers every week on the weekends, sometimes one night, sometimes three nights in a row. In fact, we have contests to come up with the most bizarre bondage, discipline, or raw humiliation scenarios. We all chip in a bottle of wine and then vote for the best scene (we can't vote for our own idea) ...winner takes all. Puts all you studs in your place; that's for sure. But at least you're all anonymous."




The Club of Fools Ch. 02



Jason remained silent and uncommunicative, but Victoria heard the clicks of his chastity cage as his erection attempted to lift it from the chair, and was only occasional successful. She peeked at his crotch and laughed.

"I thought of one a few weeks ago," she continued, "And I've spent the last two weeks designing the prototype for my scene. It gets tried today on a male I know. By the way, I forgot to ask, are you claustrophobic?"

"No, why?"

Just then Suzie finally made her appearance, a mousy girl, perhaps 28 with a figure like a waif, black hair and fair skin like porcelain. Goth would be her preferred style, Jason thought. She didn't say hello; she only drifted directly to the coffee pot in her wakeup phase of the day. It was 10:30. He looked at her with his eyes squinted. He knew her from somewhere. More memory flashes.

"Excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

She turned, annoyed at being interrupted, and said, "Yeah. I'm Suzie. Don't you remember? Wait, come to think of it, you were pretty out of it, so I guess not. I film people." She grinned an evil grin and then added, "By the way, tag, you're it!"

"Huh? What do you mean?" he asked innocently. Being a lawyer, he was not in familiar territory, and was not connecting the dots. His mind was addled and missing facts.

"You're it. Vicky has come up with an evil one this time. And you get to be the object of it." Suzie turned now to Victoria and said, "The box is in the garage where it's warm right now but it gets cooler pretty quick late in the afternoon. And I checked out that pond liner tape. It should be perfect. The low temperature paraffin wax bars are by the stove."

Victoria smiled , said thank-you and then said to Jason, "Since you booked the day off work, you might as well spend it with me, don't you think?"

Trying to sound as if that was not possible, he answered, "Well, I hadn't really planned on being a guinea pig today, so, no, I can't stay the day. I have other plans. In fact, thanks for the coffee. You have your money, so I think I'll go." He stood up and said, "Are my clothes still at the front door?"

"Oh Jason," Victoria cooed, "You mustn't leave. How will I get the house cleaned for my show tonight? And how can I go on without half of my act? I insist; you must stay. You must."

"Seriously. You expect me to drop everything and just do as you tell me. I don't think so. I don't do "orders". Get off your fucking high horse! I could take you both out right now and leave, so piss off. I'll call your fucking bluff!" He stood up to leave.

Victoria's face got stern. She turned to Suzie and simply tilted her head quickly in a prearranged sign.

Jason's face quickly showed alarm instead of anger now. Seconds later a massive man of about six foot five entered the kitchen. As soon as he saw Jason standing there with panties on, he chuckled and said, "Oh, you again. Oh, and I see she's got you caged already. Too easy, eh Vicky?"

Jason was shaken. "Look, I have some vague recollection of you, but frankly I'm getting tired of all this fogginess in my memory. Do I know... Oh my God!" Jason looked at him more closely and the memory came back. It was him; it was the cock, but that's all he got from the flicker of recollection.

Victoria interrupted his thoughts. "Jason, I have many insurance policies, none of which is in writing. The videos are one, and the other is Dougie here. If I expose one of my stable, then I do have to worry about retribution from the ruined party, so Douglas here is my protection for that." She paused for effect while Dougie had fun with him by flexing one muscle.

She continued, "Now, I know this is all very illegal, but might is right in this case. I hold ALL the cards. Don't mess with me. You know, you might as well be accommodating, because of the seven before you, no-one has found a way to beat this. Make it easy on yourself and just do as you're told. It's easier that way. By the way, I had another one about a year or two ago. I didn't dismiss him; he just left and that was his big mistake. That's why you're still number seven instead of number eight. You must know Henry Leland. He didn't adapt very well."

Jason exclaimed, "Henry? Henny? You had him? Seriously? Jesus, he just dropped out, left his law practice and everything. I haven't heard of him for about a year. What the hell?"

"Yes, well, he had these, umm, fetishes that were really weird. Let's just say they involved excrement. Seems that his associates and friends and relatives thought they were pretty weird too. He resigned before he was fired. He tried to set up a practice in Vancouver as well, but, you know how those things follow you around. Too bad. Hard to shake a reputation."

"Henny? He was infallible in court! You ruined him? Wait, he was married...one kid."

"Yeah, that was too bad. Not good business at all, very ugly business. But I didn't really ruin him; he ruined himself. I just hastened it."

Jason sat down again and sipped his coffee. This revelation had stunned him. Henny, as he had called him, had just fallen off the legal radar in the blink of an eye. Come to think of it, whenever he had asked his colleagues about him, there had been sneers and shrugs only, and he had been at a loss to figure out the reasons for his disappearance. "I was his friend, sort of," he said, "How come I didn't get a blackmail video of him?"

"Simple; I was already targeting you and your creepy style with women. Didn't want to scare you off."

Jason's heart was pounding. This was deadly serious. "I see," he said, "I, umm, I guess I'm beginning to understand then. I'm fucked."

"Heavens no! You're not fucked; you're just in a bit of a predicament. And it's one that can be managed. Well, maybe not by you, but it will get managed. And don't worry; I'm a successful parasite. Do you know what a successful parasite is Jason?" she asked, as if she was asking a baby.

He shook his head.

"It's one that doesn't kill its host. You'll be encouraged to continue to practice law and make lots and lots of money and I won't interfere with that. Why would I? I just want certain parts of you, your body and some of your money, and your mind; that's all."

Jason was now in full shock and realization. His hands were shaking and when he set his cup down, it tinkled on the table top before he tried to silence it, only flipping it and spilling out the remainder of its contents. Reflexively he said, "Oh, Jeez, sorry, I...I don't...jeez, I don't know what..." Now he was holding his head up with his hands on his forehead and his elbows on the table, in pure panic.

"Who, who are the others then?" he asked with trepidation.

"I don't kiss and tell Jason. But, let me see now, I have four politicians (they're just too easy) , two lawyers, and the other one is a principal at a well-known private school in the area. They're all about your age and quite good looking, all with one thing in common: they used to mistreat women in some way or another. They don't any more. You would recognize all the politicians and probably the lawyer I'm sure."

Jason thought about that for a few moments and then asked, "But wouldn't it be hard for some of them to come up with a thousand dollars a week?"

"Yes, that's true. Their fees are relative to what they make as income. You make lots, you pay more, simple formula. I give the smaller income people two options as well. Option one is to be used more frequently; option two is to be used as a prostitute to supplement their fees."

"You're evil," Jason said, "Are any of them prostitutes then?"

"In reality, all of you are, because you get used for sexual purposes, but only two "officially" get pimped out on occasion. I don't like doing it really, because it is illegal you know." Victoria winked.

Jason shook his head and said, "Truly evil..."

"Yes she is," giggled Suzie.

"Now Jason, sweetie," Victoria said in a comforting sweet voice, "I need to have the house vacuumed and dusted before anyone else arrives. Also, Suzie and I will need help in the kitchen preparing the munchies for the evening. So, again, I do insist that you stay, won't you please?"

Breathlessly he whispered, "Yes."

The next four hours consisted of dusting and vacuuming, ending with his service in the kitchen, mostly being an errand boy, getting the butter, the pepper, doing the dishes, and all things manual. A lawyer was not used to such things.

He was relieved of his duties in the kitchen at 3:00. Victoria said, "Get your kit bag, do your enema, and insert the plug. I've selected a bra, a wig and a pair of panties for you to wear. Suzie will give you the silicone inserts for the bra and she'll also fit you with high heels. Come and see me at 3:30 and you can sign the waiver and I'll fit you with your cone. The girls will be here by then when the real fun begins."

Jason bit his lip and left the room in silence to get his kit. An enema; a fucking enema. A cone? He dared not ask.

At 3:10 he snapped the tight red hood on and over his head and now he was forced to be silent as his mouth was filled with the mouthpiece and breathing tube. Swallowing took a bit of getting used to because his nasal passages could not equalize pressure as they were sealed from the outside world. 

Suzie cuffed his hands behind his back and led him to the garage at 3:30 where there was a group of young women in various types of fetish latex and leather gear, all waiting and drinking wine. The garage was lit, but the lighting was poor, and there were shadows everywhere. A box about 3 feet square was in the middle of the concrete floor. It had a solid bottom, barred sides like a jail cell, and a solid top with a hole in the center perhaps 6 inches in diameter. The women stood around it poking and prodding as if to determine the use for the box, and there was a buzz to the room which abruptly stopped at his entry.

Then he saw her. He flinched and tried to speak, resulting only in a grunt. His hands writhed in futility in the cuffs behind him.

"Ladies," Victoria began, "I want to introduce a new male. I haven't named him yet, but for now let's call him pig." This evoked laughter, but there was one woman that Jason had fixated on that simply grinned sheepishly and looked about nervously as if wondering what to do, how to react.

"Also," Victoria continued, "You've already met Jodi. She's expressed interest in meeting all of you and our male prostitute here, and this is her first entry into the twilight zone of severe kink. Yes Jodi, all the males we use have to sign a release and have a desire to be here for our use. Isn't that so pig?"

Jason reluctantly nodded his head and grunted.

"The signed release is on file and will only be shown to those that object to the male's treatment. If someone does object and wants to see the file, then I will have to ask that person to sign a document promising never to reveal the name of said male. Are we all clear on that?" She looked around for dissent, but seeing none, continued, "So, pig, are you ready?"

Jason just seethed in silence and fear, unable to respond.

Victoria said, "This scene is one that my devious mind has spent a lot of time developing. Is the wax melted Suzie?" Suzie nodded yes. "Good. Now, pig, I'm going to put this pet cone around your neck and seal it at the bottom around your neck with this highly efficient pond liner sealing tape."

Jason squirmed while this was done, not making it easy on her. Then he was led to the box which he now could not see due to the cone. The box was hinged completely open on one side, and before he understood where he was being placed, it hinged closed so that he was encased within the box, all except his head, that is. Someone reached in and unlocked his cuffs just as the large box itself was locked shut on the side. Now he realized that his head was stuck outside and his body inside and he pushed on the solid top in growing anxiety, trying in vain to find a way to touch his head. The dimness of the garage hid the terror in his eyes. Giving up with his hands, he tried to move his head downward through the hole, but his head was larger than the opening. He was trapped. 

Now they were using copious amounts of the same extremely ductile and sticky tape to immobilize the cone and his head so he could not move it at all. It took a great deal of work and fumbling, but now his eyes could only dart back and forth as Suzie attached an extension to his breathing tube that looped up and over the edge of the cone.

"Ladies, behold!" Victoria exclaimed, "The hard part is done. Now we pour the wax in and let it harden before we have our way with him."

Now Jodi spoke up. "You're going to pour wax into the cone?" she asked with alarm.

"Yes, that's right. It's low temperature paraffin, and it wouldn't burn him even if his skin was bare, which it's not. The latex hood will keep the wax out of his ears and nose and mouth as well as out of his hair. Not only that, but we've taken the wax off the heat enough that it's as low a temperature it can be without hardening. And we're going to cover him up slowly, about three inches at a time so he doesn't overheat."

"Are you sure that's okay?" Jodi asked.

"No, not completely, but what better guinea pig than this guy, right pig?" Victoria laughed.

This was like a nightmare, he thought. He grunted and his arms flailed below the top of the box in futility. Finally his hands came to rest holding bars at each side in acknowledgement of defeat. Many times, he had had dreams in the night whereby he had become conscious of the fact that he was wearing women's clothes in public and he had to get out of sight, or he was being ridiculed, especially by women in some way. The dream went on forever in endless repeat. People laughed; people pushed him and he fell with his high heels on. The women laughed. The men laughed. The children laughed. He would wake up in a sweat and deny the thoughts, deny the existence of his fantasies. But they were always there and getting stronger as he aged. Now the dream was real. And it was just like the dream. He could find no place to hide.

He stared at them as they peeked at him. Bring on the wax, he thought. Make it so they couldn't see his eyes, his face, so he couldn't see theirs. Make him invisible.

The wax surrounded his neck now and it was warm, very warm, but not intolerable. Gradually it came up to the base of his chin. Now it was up to his mouth and it stopped. He stared at the side of his pet cone and occasionally glanced upward at the shadows made by the women as they mingled, drank, and laughed. He thought he could smell marijuana, but he wasn't sure, as he didn't think there was any way he could, but sometimes taste can equate to smell and vice versa, he thought. Periodically a woman would still peek in at him and laugh at his predicament, and sometimes someone would tickle his headless body in the cage. All he could do was try to swat the hand away and grunt through the gag in his mouth.

The next pour went to the base of his eyes and he felt the pressure of the liquid on his face for the first time. He had thoughts he might die, and although his body was cold, his head was hot and sweaty under the wax and latex. Many minutes later he couldn't move his head a millimeter as the wax had hardened and he was ready for the final pour.

The now familiar flow of heat started at the back of his head where Victoria was pouring slowly, her face a lustful mask. Jason's body squirmed below the bottom of the wooden plywood board which separated his head and mind from his body as the liquid rose over his eyes and so slowly over his head. He was hyperventilating and even though his head was now completely immersed, the liquid was initially clear. All outside sounds were now gone. He saw wavy images of women peeking over the top of the cone, like he was underwater and watching life above. As he watched, he became mesmerized at what was happening. The initial clear image became foggy, then the translucence began to increase as the wax set up in a solid state. 

All sight was gone. All sound was gone except for the sound of the rhythmic flow of the blood in his veins, and the steady whoosh-whoosh of his breathing. He had no idea how long it had taken, but his head was now entombed in a solid waxen ball, or cone to be exact. Someone was doing something to him and he realized the plastic cone was probably being removed. The sticky tape which had trapped the wax from dripping down his neck was now peeled off, taking neck hairs with it. He moaned shrilly but alone. Why would anyone want to do this, he wondered? What was the point? What were they going to do to him? And what about Jodi?

Was this the method behind Victoria's madness, to do this to him while he knew Jodie was watching? Yes he had dumped her, but so what? She was a big girl. People got dumped all the time.

He was being helped out of the box and his hands went directly to his head, feeling nothing but hardened wax. He couldn't help it; he panicked and sat on the floor scratching at it with his fingernails until they were filled underneath and hurting. He knocked at it and heard a distant thump, thump. This was crazy, a nightmare, an absolutely stupid nightmare.

"It must weigh a lot so we have to be careful he doesn't hurt his neck," Victoria said, while holding the wax head upright, "He's been in the wax now for about five hours, so I doubt there'll be much fight left in him."

Jodi was worried. "Vicky, this, this isn't right. I mean, aside from possibly dying, he could actually go mad you know. I'm not so sure I want to get into this; it's too extreme."

Vicky gave Jason's head to Suzie and told her to take him to the dungeon so they could play with him for the next few hours. Then she put her arm around Jodi's shoulder and said, "Look, you have the look, those tendencies, the same that I have. We've shared the fantasies before, remember?"

"Yes, but, I don't want anyone to die. Jesus Vicky!"

"He's NOT going to die Jodi. I didn't tell any of the others, but I've done this before, in a very controlled and measured way. Besides, didn't you look at his penis; it was hard as a rock inside that chastity cage. He loves it!"

Jodi had wondered about that. She had noticed that throughout the whole ordeal and had watched him try to play with himself, in absolute frustration inside the chastity cage. "Well," she said, "That WAS weird, and yes, I guess he is turned on, but...but Jeez, I don't know..."

Victoria stared directly into her eyes and said, "Ever fuck a completely anonymous guy against his will?"

"No."

"Well, you never will, and neither will I. He wants every second of it. When we strap him down on the table in the dungeon, we're all going to fuck him in one way or another, but we've saved his cock for you. You're going to finish him off. In the meantime, his mind is going to totally freak, because he will have no idea which women are fucking him and not only that, but, he'll have zero control over it. Ever watch gay sex?"

"No. Not sure I want to. Is the pig gay?"

"No, and that's the best part. Dougie is going to take him too when the women are done. I want him punished for what he..." she said and then stopped mid-sentence. Now was not the time.

Jason knew he was walking, but that was all. A person held each arm as he was led along what he thought was the hallway, and then down some stairs. He knew then what was about to happen. He was going to be their toy in the dungeon for the rest of the night. In the last half hour or so, he had gotten into the habit of grunting and screaming just so he could hear something else besides his breathing and heart rate. He continued this as he was strapped down to the pegging table, his chest pressed against a padded leather surface and locked down, while he was tethered doggie style on knee rests beside it. He was glad to be able to rest his heavy waxen head on the table.




The Club of Fools Ch. 02



And he was grateful to be anonymous so he could enjoy everything that they would do to him without guilt or shame.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Something had happened. Maybe the wax had collapsed somehow on his rubber breathing tube. He squealed and twitched every muscle in his body to get the message across. Instead he felt a penis-like object enter him and his mind blew. Panic, pain, pleasure, despair, terror. All these things happened at once and he was not rational any longer. His thoughts were disengaged from sanity, "Please fuck me! Please let me breathe, please, oh God, please let me...something...anything..."

Victoria pounded into him and then took her finger off the breathing tube at the top of his head to listen to the wind of his breathing recover. He was twitching uncontrollably and as she reached around to fondle his balls, a high pitched squeal could be heard through the breathing tube. He pushed back against her strap-on with as much intensity as he could. Semen was dripping from his penis like it was a faucet. After some time she withdrew and let someone else do the same, but Victoria remained in control of his breathing, allowing him just enough, just enough to know that his life was in someone else's hands.

If Jason had been able physically to speak, it would have been incomprehensible gibberish. His mind was arcing and flashing in and out of a conscious state, subspace in BDSM terminology, and he came to realize that he could not even control whether he lived or died. Someone else was at that switch. And a strange thing happened; he went into the deepest subspace of existence, totally dependent upon another for life itself. And it was humbling. And it was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced, a feeling out of mind, out of body, like the time he had tripped on ketamine by mistake in university, only even more intense because of his total dependence upon strangers to keep him alive. He was being used for their pleasure. They were toying with him, keeping him on the edge for the joy of his torture that it gave them. He couldn't say he liked it; he could only say that it was somehow necessary and he had to succumb to it. And that gave him a strange peace and panic at the same time. It was insanity, and he came to believe that only time would tell if it was a permanent condition.

And he had all the time in the world. Hidden under the wax, he blinked rapidly in his swimming goggles under the latex hood. There were colors there, but they were transient and seemingly visible only when he concentrated on them. His breath was gone again. Someone pushed into him hard, over and over and over. After what seemed like an eternity of the rape, there was a long pause and he lay there catching his breath. His lips tingled from hyperventilating to catch up from the latest oxygen deprivation.

Then he felt it. Rough hands grabbed him by the waist and hairy thighs rubbed the back of his legs. He knew what was coming, and Dougie thrust into him so hard that he screamed within his silent world. He was being fucked by a man. High pitched whimpers escaped his throat into the silence of the wax and wound its way through the breathing tube, and there, exhausted by the travel, it dissipated into the air.

Jodi had found it fascinating to peg this man, and he seemed to enjoy it. She, in fact, had also enjoyed it, and despite her apprehension, the attachments of the strap-on not only pounded him, but also stimulated her so that she had a small orgasm, surprising her enormously. Now she watched Dougie pound him and she was again surprised at how erotic this was. Her wetness increased to the point where she wanted him to finish so she could have the pig again. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was just that she was kinky and had just discovered herself. But she knew she wanted him again. But this time she would flip him over.

Dougie came with several final heaves and moans, much to the delight of the women around him. When he pulled out, Jason's anal area was pulsating with pre-orgasmic muscle spasms. The women, some of them now drunk, cheered when he took the condom off and dumped its contents on Jason's back. Jason's toes were clenching and re-clenching in helplessness, as he had not yet reached his climax. He had been used for such a long time and yet he had only been on the verge of orgasm during all that period, and he was crazy with desire. He gasped as the anal plug was re-inserted. It appeared they were done with him and he despaired. Nothing else mattered to him now but orgasm.

He was yelling, "Please, please, please, you have to let me come!" But of course nobody heard him.

Now he felt himself released and taken to a floor mat where he was laid out on his back like a vestal virgin. Someone unlocked his cage and allowed his penis to grow out of it. A woman sat on his thighs and caressed his body, knowing that he was her possession, and that she had the power of life and death over him. He knew it too. Unknown to him she stroked his encased head, marveling at its complete and utter rendering of helplessness. Then she rose up and let him enter her. He stopped quivering and reached up to touch her, gently finding her breasts.

Who was it, he wondered? Then he felt her fondle his fake breasts as she started to rise and fall on him. Sanity, however faint, returned and a sense of wanting to please emerged. This woman was so sweet; he could feel it in her movements, the bones of her. Then she did what he had only felt once before while making love to a woman. She laid herself flat on top of his chest and put her arms completely around him so that her breathing was on his lower neck. Only one woman had done this every time they had made love, and it was Jodi. Jodi was fucking him, and she didn't know it. He was just a hunk of prostitute meat to her, and he felt a pang of guilt and shame so deep that it hurt. 

That's how he had treated her.

He yelled, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry!" But of course, she heard nothing but his moans out of the breathing tube and the vibrations in his sternum. So he did what he could to please her, thrusting up in rhythm to her, caressing her breasts and waist and hips as she straddled him and used him up. She came with a frenzy of weighted drops on his hips, and he tried to control himself for her sake as long as he could. She came twice before he allowed himself to finish. Again his mind shattered like crystal glass, a confusion of submission and subjugation, unable to think in any logical way.

When he calmed down, he lay there and realized he could never tell her. She was going to be making love to him, perhaps forever, in this slavery of his, and he could never tell her. And she would never know. It was a purgatory on earth.

As the sane thoughts began to sort themselves out again in his brain, he felt a strange stillness around him, no movement at all. He reached out and there was no-one. They had simply used him and left him. Now he thought of the necessities such as water, food, going to the bathroom. He lay there helpless, knowing that unless someone helped him, he would die. He waited. 

Probably he slept, because he suddenly felt panic at being unable to see or speak. Someone was chipping away at the tomb of his head. He could hear it as well as feel it. It was relentless and unending, but eventually his head felt lighter and he knew they were going to release him. A sense of peace flooded over him as he went back to sleep while they peeled his layers away.

He woke up Saturday morning on the dungeon mat with his chastity cage locked back on, but he was nude except for the latex hood on his head. He wanted to take it off, but he didn't know if everyone had gone, so he got up and removed the remaining fragments of wax from the latex and went to the bathroom. His vision was cloudy however, as there was still wax on portions of the goggles at his eye openings, and he walked with hands in front of him like a blind man.

"I will NEVER do that again!" Victoria said as he was relieving himself sitting on the toilet like a girl, one of the disadvantages of having to wear a chastity device. She had startled him, as the hood had reduced his hearing so that he didn't hear her enter. He was used to being nude in her presence now. It seemed natural.

"It took Suzie and me hours to get that fucking wax off! Never again!" She was disheveled and hungover. "Sort of detracted from all the fun we had with you before. So that idea can be shelved."

Jason pointed to his hood and by hand gestures asked if it was okay to remove it. She nodded yes, so he peeled it off and the cool air of the basement dungeon flooded over him like a tide.

"So you're never doing that again?" he asked, surprised at himself for feeling disappointment.

Victoria was a bright girl and she caught his meaning instantly. "I see you have some mixed feelings about that?" she asked with a devious (and deviant) smile, "You certainly did seem to enjoy it."

Jason blushed. "Well, I don't know if I would call it that, but I would call it something...maybe extraordinary, maybe mind-blowing. By the way, who fucked me?"

"We all did. The one at the end was Jodi, as you are well aware, I'm sure. And of course Dougie had his way with you too. You were responsible for a lot of orgasms last night. Good job."

Jason stared away blankly. "So she's your friend then. She...she didn't know who I was, did she?"

"I don't think so. Not yet anyway. She never said anything."

Jason said quickly, "She can't ever know. Jesus, she just can't. Wish she could but that would...well, she just can't."

Victoria liked to have the hammer and she used it again at this moment. "Well, yes she can know. I might tell her at some point and from what she told me about you and the way you treated her, she might keep the wax on your head permanently. I'm planning to explore that with her on a "what if" basis. It'd go like this: "So, Jodi, if you had Jason here what would you do to him?" just to see what she'd say. She's coming here again next week, so I'll let you know what she says."

Jason was tired, hungry, and thirsty, and he responded with weariness, "Please Victoria. Look, I know I was a shit. But that happens all the time. She's a big girl. Can you stop this? I mean, look at this! Look at me! This is pathetic. Okay, I'm pathetic. And you got me, alright? Now just let me out of this! Please."

Victoria became icy and said, "Oh Jason, don't be so naïve. I'll always have those videos. Always. And there will be more, I guarantee it. I have seven men paying me up to $52,000 a year in one form or another, every year, for as long as I want. Why would I let ANY of that go?"

Jason sighed and stood up from the toilet muttering to himself.

"Jason, Jason, get yourself together. You don't look at all like a big time lawyer from a rich family right now. Man up and get your ass in gear! Go take a shower and clean yourself up. You're dismissed until next Friday at 4:00. Bring the $1,000 plus another $350 for the bondage corset. Now get out of here." She left the room abruptly, completely unsympathetic to his acquiescence and pleading.

Jason left the dungeon and found his clothes at the front door where he had stripped off an eternity ago. His kit bag was with the clothes and he checked it. There was a new red latex hood, but everything else was the same. There was no good bye, no thank-you for services rendered. He was just dismissed like the prostitute he was, and yet HE was paying money for this. It was so twisted and upside down and wrong. But it seemed to be very real and unstoppable. 

As he left, he was already planning his week so that Friday afternoon was freed to allow time for his preparations in getting ready to be used again. And he needed to sell some assets to get the cash. How did this happen, he asked himself? How did he let this happen?



The Club of Fools Ch. 03



Author's Notes (similar to chapter 2) :

(1) Please read chapter one and two. I like to tell a story sprinkled with erotica, in contrast to erotica sprinkled with a faint storyline.

(2) This is FICTION.

(3) There are bizarre scenes herein, sexual to some, perhaps horrifying to others.

(4) Please be aware that Victoria's activities are illegal. She is a female sadist and psychopath. But keep in mind she is loyal to her friends.

(5) Many will question the possibility of this plot ever happening in real life. But just ask the question: COULD it happen? And the answer is: yes it could. Having said that, that's all I need to tell a story.

(6) Finally, always remember that truth is stranger than fiction.

*****

Jason's week was hectic, for no other reason other than he was distracted. Although his case load was small for this time of the year, he found himself daydreaming in court a little too often, sometimes with embarrassing results.

"Does the defense wish to question the crown's witness?" The judge asked this twice, the second time a little more loudly than the first.

Jason had been staring at a painting on the wall of a 19th century woman in some British house. She was clearly corseted, and he was wondering what that would feel like, to be corseted like that. He would soon know, because Victoria was going to have him bound into a bondage corset. What was her vision of a bondage corset he wondered?

"What?" he asked, momentarily confused, "Oh, yes your honor, I do..." He quickly regained his lawyer's acuity and carried on, but he made a mental note that he had to give more effort to his now divided life, both sides of it.

When Friday came, he found himself nervous, and to his surprise, hopeful that Victoria would use him in some bizarre way like the week before. Many nights he had stared at the cage which surrounded his penis, knowing that it could be freed with just a small snip of the scissors on the plastic tag, but he refrained because...well, because it felt erotic to be forced to leave it the way it was, for fear of her "dreaded" consequences.

His heart was racing and his breath was rapid as he gave himself the enema and inserted the heavy steel butt plug that Friday at 2:15. He finished early and it was too soon to present himself to her, so he thought he would enjoy a small glass of wine on his deck on an unusually warm October afternoon. He poured himself a nice glass of Viognier and walked out to feel the late afternoon sun on his face, sitting down a little too quickly on the deck chair. The anal plug twisted and then pushed against his prostate causing him first to gasp, then to moan softly, as memories flooded back to him of last weekend. The bondage had been so absolute and exquisite and he had obviously pleased Victoria, because she had told him that he had given orgasms to everyone involved, whether it was through the pegging or other means. The one dark cloud was being Dougie's bitch. That bothered him; he was not gay. But at least, he thought, with his head covered as it was with the hood and the wax, he was anonymous. Anonymity gives us all courage, he thought.

Eventually the sun became obscured by thick black clouds and the warmth left him waiting for winter. He shivered and stood, feeling the plug shift once again. Jesus, he thought; this wasn't so bad; this whole predicament wasn't so bad. Very expensive, but not unpleasant otherwise. He made sure he had the $1,300 in cash that Victoria required this week and thought to himself that wives cost at least this much and there was so much baggage with being married. This was great; he could pay $1,000 a week and have all the kinky sex that he wanted. Not bad, not bad at all. The only strings attached were to pay up every week. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

When he arrived at Victoria's doorstep, he rang the bell and waited, clutching his black club kit in his hand, butterflies whirling in his tummy. He mentally noted the feeling and secretly chuckled at his memory of what he called that feeling when he was a child, the "flutterbies". 

Suzie, dressed like a slob in sweat pants and a T-shirt, opened the door, let it swing so that it hit the wall beside the closet, and then walked away without even saying hello. He assumed he was to enter and he remembered his explicit instructions upon entering. He closed the door. Suzie was nowhere to be seen. The house was quiet. He stood there not sure what to do.

"Suzie? Victoria?" he yelled in a mild voice. Nothing. He took a deep breath and did as he had been told to do; he took all his clothes off, donned the red latex hood, and waited. He felt like an idiot, a pervert, a slave to Victoria.

The only sound was the sound of his breathing through the breathing tube. Feeling self-conscious and awkward, he looked around and decided it would be best to store his black club kit bag in the closet. As he did so, he noted that there was another one just like his stored there as well. Oh God, he thought; he was not alone today.

Finally, after endless moments of indecision about whether to stay where he was or venture further into the house to find someone, Victoria appeared, dressed exquisitely in a tight fitting black dress that went to the floor. It molded to her shape but apparently was flexible enough for her to walk in the otherwise hobble-looking skirt portion. An uneven texture of boning and laces revealed the presence of a corset under the dress.

"Jason. Good to see you." She came to him quickly to inspect the chastity cage, checking the number on the locking tag and comparing it to the number on the paper in her left hand. "Good," she said, "Now bend over please."

Jason had not expected this, but as soon as he did, she grabbed the anal plug and worked it a little bit, enough to make him gasp slightly through his breathing tube.

"Very good," she said, "Now, the money please."

He handed her the envelope with the money and watched her count it. He stood there uncomfortably, with his penis throbbing within the chastity cage.

"Very good," she said again, "I don't want you, or have any need for you, this week. I'll see you next week at 4:00 and bring $1,200 please; the bondage corset is costing more than I had thought because of the accessories I asked for, and the exchange rate with the US dollar. Please excuse me; I have a, umm, a visitor to tend to. Hope you have a good week. Good bye." And she left. Just like that.

Jason felt as if he had been brought to the edge of orgasm and then denied the moment of truth. Not only that, but the humiliation of this was enormous. He had been treated like an inanimate object, like he wasn't even a sexual object; he was less than that, certainly less than the "other" visitor. He felt odd. Jealousy; that was it. He was an automated teller dispensing money. This was unexpected, as he had assumed he would be used for sexual purposes every weekend. Now he thought about that and realized that there were others, other men in the same position as he, and that they must have their times with Victoria and her women as well.

He felt stupid and lost, and as he took his latex hood off and dressed himself once again, he wondered how he could go another entire week without having a sexual release of some sort. Then the horrible thought hit him; it could be several weeks before it was his turn to be "used" again. He thought more about this as he drove back home, wondering what he would do now. Surely she didn't expect a virile 30 year old man with his looks to go two or more weeks with this stupid fragile cage on his penis.

By the time he was home, the disappointment had changed to anger, and then a glass of wine changed it to irrationality and bravado. With little fanfare he cut the locking tag off the chastity cage and freed his penis. After watching the hockey game on TV, he left for the Jasper Club, met some fellow young lawyers, drank a few rounds and met Toni, a friend of one of the female lawyers at the club. The rest of the evening went well, and he woke up with a headache in Toni's bed on Saturday morning.

Oh shit, he thought. As in many other one night stands, he managed to sneak out of the apartment and slink away back home. He got a text from Toni before he got home which his Bluetooth read out for him while he drove. "Asshole," was all it said in its monotone computer voice. He shrugged it off. They had made no promises to each other and she was a big girl; she could handle being used like that surely. And he also reasoned that she had used him as well. It was just sex.

He had no idea that not everyone thought about sex in the same way he did. He had no idea that sex could be a bond far deeper than the physical.

Having had an orgasm the night before, and now that his head had cleared, he began to worry. The tag was cut cleanly from the chastity cage; there was no getting that back together. Now what? He spent that Saturday and Sunday trying to plan his excuse. It broke when he got out of the shower? No, he fell getting out of the shower. Yes, that was better. The tag got caught on the, on the what? On the scissors, he laughed to himself. By Monday, he didn't worry about it at all. He had a legitimate excuse, and even if she didn't buy that, he decided to just call Victoria's bluff anyway. He had crossed this bridge and he just had to wait to see what was on the other side.

The next Friday arrived with a rare early snowfall. The wind was cold and the air damp as he drove to Victoria's place with the required $1,200. He was aware of the anal plug massaging him with every bump of the road, but he was even more acutely aware of his free penis, and the empty chastity cage in his pocket. Justified or not, he was afraid.

This time Victoria herself answered the door, and instead of leaving him alone like Suzie had done the week before, she just said hello, took the money in the envelope, and said, "Okay, come in and strip off."

Jason gulped and did so, standing in front of her completely nude. "I fell getting out of the shower and the tag ripped right off," he said.

"I see. Where is it?" she asked.

He took the chastity apparatus out of his pocket in the coat on the floor and showed it to her sheepishly. "I'm really sorry," he said.

She stared at him with no perceivable facial expression other than perhaps disappointment. "Yes, I'll bet you're sorry. I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"No, I'm fine."

"Yes, I'll bet you're fine," she sighed. Then she added, "Okay, put it back on and I'll lock you up again. Then you can go home. I'll see you next Friday at 4:00. Bring $1,000, your toothbrush, and your other toiletries."

She waited while he assembled the flimsy looking plastic device over his genitals. Then she inserted the plastic locking tab and clicked it shut. Looking at him with a level stare, she said, "You shouldn't test me." Then she squeezed his left testicle painfully and left him to wonder what that meant. He waited a second or two and then yelled, "What do you mean by that?" There was no answer, so he dressed again and left for home.

This time, he did not cut the chastity cage off. He just had a feeling that maybe he shouldn't do that, and on Wednesday night, that feeling or worry was confirmed with a knock at his front door.

When he opened the door, Geoff, his neighbor for many years and many beers, stood there, and without fanfare gave Jason's house key to him. Geoff, along with his other neighbor Rachel, had alternately watched his house every time he went on vacation, so this was a surprise.

"What's this?" Jason asked, taking the keys, "Come on in Geoff."

Geoff answered icily and with a tremble to his voice, not one of grief, but of anger, "You send me a fucking email like that and you stand there pretending nothing's happened? What the fuck, who the fuck do you think I am anyway? You think by sending that email that I'll be your fuck buddy or something, you deviant piece of shit?"

Jason turned white outside and black inside and said, "Geoff, wait, I didn't send you an email! What are you talking about?"

"Look," Geoff said, barely in control, "It was from your email address, and it was you in the video. Two plus two equals four in my books. You might be a gay transvestite, and I know I should be tolerant of people's quirks (and I am) , but for you to send that to me in a way like this, it's, it's...You think I'm gay or something? Jesus, man, you keep this fucking shit to yourself okay?" He took one last glare at Jason before racing off the doorstep and back home.

Jason ran out after him and yelled, "Geoff, wait! That wasn't, uh, I'm being..." He was going to say "blackmailed" but the idea of telling him fell flat on its face. Nothing could change the fact that he was enjoying himself in that video, whether he was being blackmailed or not. The evidence was overwhelming. Jason stood there in shock for a moment, and then he went back into the house and closed the door softly. The lock clicked shut with finality. There was no way to defend himself. 

Victoria had used his own email address to send that video to Geoff. He didn't understand the technical aspects of that, only the results. She had actually done it! He suspected Suzie was the IT wizard, as she was a gamer, he knew. She looked the part. He stood rooted to the foyer floor, thinking, but his thoughts just swirled around like fog in the wind, random and futile. So he went to the bar in the living room and poured himself a scotch. Moments later he poured another. No need to think really; she had him.

After pacing around the house aimlessly for about half an hour, he resolved to be proactive. He phoned his parents and his brothers, but conversation was normal and fun as always. He hung up the phone with measured relief. It had been a surgical and limited attack by Victoria, a warning. Now what, he wondered?

As he laid in bed later trying to sleep, he absently fondled his cage, feeling astoundingly frustrated by such a modest device. Pangs of fear shot through him and sleep did not come. At 2:55, he got up and went to his computer to compose an email.

It said, "Geoff, I know how this all looks, but it's not what you think. I did NOT send you that email. I am being blackmailed by the woman in that video. I need help. Please call me."

He stared at the words for several minutes. Then he pictured Geoff reading it and thinking about all of it. Was it Jason in the video? Yes. Was Jason having an orgasm while being treated in that way? Yes. Was Jason clearly enjoying the scene? Yes. Did the email come from Jason's own email address? Yes. 

Would Victoria expose him totally if she found out he had sought help in this way? Yes.

His finger hovered over the "send" button and then as if by magnetism, moved inexorably to the right and pressed delete instead. Mentally exhausted and beaten, he went back to bed and finally found sleep.

At work the next day, he was looking over his shoulder all day long, but there was nothing strange or alarming. But his hands shook, and he was unusually quiet when talking to his peers. He went home early, relieved that Victoria had limited her attack, but terrified at her power to do so.

Thursday night, he drank half a bottle of white wine while eating a pizza and staring unfocused into the distance. During the consumption of the rest of the bottle, he started saying out loud over and over again, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..." until the bottle was finished and he went to sleep on the sofa.

Friday again. The minutes had been an eternity, the days a blink of an eye. Jason was a lot less excited about paying his weekly visit to Victoria's house. He rang the doorbell and waited. There was a blank expression on his face when she opened the door and asked him in.

She immediately told him to strip off for inspection and while he did so, she asked, "So, did you have an enjoyable week Jason?"

"Yes, fine." He was sullen.

"Well, that's good then. Has Geoff, your neighbor been talking to you at all?"

"Yes. We had a little chat."

"And Rachel?"

Jason looked alarmed. Rachel was his other neighbor who also had his house key as an alternate. She was an elderly woman who had just lost her husband to cancer the previous year, a sweet lady who enjoyed wine and laughter frequently on warm summer nights with Jason either in his back yard or hers.

"What about Rachel? Please tell me you didn't send the email to Rachel."

"Bend over please," she ordered, and she checked the position of the butt plug. Then she pulled on his chastity cage to ensure it was locked. Smiling, she said, "So, do you understand what you're up against now?"

"Yes. But what about Rachel? Did you...?"

She didn't answer his question. "Jason, you don't seem to understand the stakes here yet. You thought it was a game and you tested me. I responded in a small, measured way. It could have been worse, way worse, couldn't it? Now I'll ask you again, do you REALLY understand what you're up against now?"

Jason was standing nude in front of a fully dressed woman in full control of everything in his life at the moment. He felt small and insignificant. She had one arm folded under her breasts and the other elbow was resting on it so that her chin was in turn resting on the hand of that arm. She waited for an answer.

"Yes!" he yelled, like saying "uncle" while in a wrestler's arm lock.

"That's good. Now maybe you'll be more obedient. Did you bring your toothbrush and toiletries?"

"Yes. In my bag."

"Good. Put your hood on, the black one for oral service, just in case I want to use you while I'm watching TV or something. And put your hands behind your back while I put you in this arm-binder. She slipped the binder up his arms so that his hands were now in a single mitt at the base, and the straps were secured at his shoulders. Then she tightened the corset-like laces on the binder so that his elbows were drawn closer to one another. Once this was tied off, she pulled a strap from the base of his hand mitten down and under his crotch, finally up to the front of the binder shoulder straps and attached it there with a lock.

Jason was breathing raggedly; he felt totally helpless, and indeed he was now. The arm-binder harness pulled his shoulders back firmly, and his arms felt like they were part of his torso, immobilized as they were. He thought this should have been enough, but then she wrapped a severe thick leather posture collar around his neck which, when strapped down behind his head and locked on, forced him to stare straight ahead and slightly upwards. Now she added a leash to the collar and led him away to the dungeon.

As he was led away, Jason felt extremely confused, humiliated at being treated like a dog, but he noted that his chastity cage was full, painfully full. He desperately wanted an orgasm in response to both the bondage and the humiliation, and he didn't understand that. Mind you, understanding his situation had little to do with his predicament; it was going to be what Victoria wanted it to be.

Once in the dungeon, he was fitted with ankle cuffs, which in turn were locked together, then locked to D-rings on the floor. A thick steel pole was inserted into a pre-made hole just behind him in the floor and he was bound to it so that it was impossible for him to fall over and injure himself. He felt like he was to be burned at the stake.

All this was done to him without a word of fun or encouragement. Victoria was like a robot. Now she left him alone in the dungeon to contemplate his situation. He had to be honest with himself; he was enjoying this. It was like a dream. So, if she was trying to punish him, it was not working, he thought with amusement. He resolved to pretend he was mortified and at her mercy.

There was no need to pretend. It was 4:30 in the afternoon and as she left she said, "Relax for a few hours Jason. You messed with me; now I'm gonna mess with you, bigtime. Let me explain what's going to happen to you tonight: nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm going to keep you bound up like this, all locked up, and that's it...nothing more, except that you will get to watch some things, some very sexy things. Do you like to watch Jason?"




The Club of Fools Ch. 03



He didn't respond, so she continued, "Well, anyway, we like to watch, Suzie and I. We'll be watching you and that turns us on. The difference is that we will get to have sex; you won't. Not only that, but you may or may not get to do nothing all over again tomorrow night, and maybe Sunday night too. You will stay locked up in your chastity device until you finally realize just what you're dealing with here. Do you understand?"

Now he got it. He looked at her in a deadpan expression and said, "No, you're not serious, you can't be fucking serious. Jesus!" He struggled as much as his bondage would allow and then stopped, stunned into submission.

Then she left. He hung there in limbo, tethered to the steel post and unable to move. He breathed heavily. There was nothing to look forward to tonight, this weekend, except being denied. Again he made robust attempts to free himself, but it was futile. He stared straight ahead, the collar supporting his chin and forcing his cheeks to bulge out slightly. This woman could be cruel. Suddenly he realized she was a sadist, and possibly even a psychopath, and it frightened him. She frightened him. On the S&M curve, she was way, way ahead of him.

He thought he was alone, but then he noticed movement to his left. His eyes moved to where his head could not and saw Suzie shutting down her video equipment. He was being filmed. She walked toward the door, glancing at his pathetic form one last time, switched off the light, and left as well.

He waited with apprehension and absolute submission. It was impossibly dark and quiet, but after about 30 minutes he could make out a tiny sliver of light coming out from under the door. He concentrated on that like a hopeful puppy.

He must have fallen asleep. He blinked in the light and tried to focus his eyes in the bright light.

"Time for you to watch and be watched," said Victoria.

Jason got hopeful. But not for long.

"I want you displayed hanging in the bedroom so Suzie and I have an external focus while we play. Come along now."

He was extremely stiff and sore, and he stumbled a couple of times, going to one knee once, before getting the hang of walking again. She pulled on his leash and forced him to walk quickly to their bedroom where she attached a rope under his arm-binder behind his shoulder blades, then through a hook suspended from the ceiling. With a tug of a rope over a pulley system, he became semi-suspended, with only his toes touching the floor. A second rope was attached to the front of his harness and tied off to the base of Victoria's and Suzie's bed, so that he was forced to look at the bed without swinging around.

Now they were ready. Jason glanced at the clock which said 10:15. He had been in bondage for almost six hours already. Provocatively, Suzie and Victoria disrobed in front of him, periodically touching each other's breasts, legs, and pubic areas. They kissed, and sometimes caressed Jason until he was moaning in frustration. Again, his penis leaked like a faucet, but it was as useless as the proverbial teat on a bull. They played with his cage until he begged them, "Please, please, please... Look, I'm sorry alright? Please..."

Finally hope filled him once again as Victoria snipped the locking tag on the chastity cage and pulled the device off allowing his penis to grow and stand erect. What happened next was not immediately clear to him as he thought she was attaching a condom, but it was sticky as it unrolled over his penis. She pulled on the end once it was fully unrolled onto his penis, and it was firmly attached. Then he realized the end of the "condom" was open as she attached a rubber tube to it that fell down to the floor and into a plastic wash bucket.

"Poor baby. Got your hopes up didn't you? It's an external catheter. I don't want you peeing on the floor in the middle of the night. So you pee in the bucket, and I think the anal plug will prevent anything exiting back there. You're good for the night."

"Please Victoria, please, I'm begging you. I can't stand this, please..."

"Oh," Victoria added thoughtfully, "And from now on you remain quiet. Oh you can moan and groan (and you will) . I like that. But no more complaining or you get gagged. If you're a good boy, then you might get rewarded tomorrow. We'll see. It all depends on you doing as you're told, and of course my mood. Isn't that right?"

Jason didn't dare speak. He tried to nod his head. Now he observed them in detail as they readied for bed, padding barefoot around the room and in and out of the ensuite bathroom. He noticed for the first time how beautifully chiselled Suzie was, perfection in slimness and femininity, a runway models' type of body, but there were two tattoos that gave away her sluttiness. Just above her pubic area it read in bold print "FRONT DOOR" and of course at her lower back it read "BACK DOOR". She smiled when she caught him reading her signs.

"You only have a back door, don`t you?" she said, "And I have lots of video to prove that." She raised her eyebrows and then winked.

Then they started. Victoria and Suzie were both on their knees facing each other on the bed exploring each other with loving faint touches. Their lips met, and gradually their bodies met, first with their nipples and breasts, then full on, as if each was struggling to get inside the other. Their tongues were actively seeking each other, and now fingers were exploring lower areas. Then came the moans as they collapsed on the bed in a sixty-nine position. For the next 45 minutes, each alternately lost control in full orgasm, unable to stimulate the other, as if this was a competition. Their bodies began to glisten with perspiration and their hair straggled in strings in the raw enjoyment of flesh. But there was more to it, Jason perceived; sometimes they simply looked into each other's eyes or they giggled as if there was some upper level of invisible communication going on. He wondered what or how that could be, as he had never really experienced anything like that. Then it dawned on him; it was probably love and respect for each other.

Jason tried to look away; the torture was too much. But the bonds kept him watching. He thrust his hips forward and backward in futility while the girls glanced at him occasionally in their passion. His helplessness and torture seemed to fuel their desires. Forced to balance on his toes, his calves ached and he couldn`t feel any sensation in his hands due to the pull of the rope under his arms. He was reduced to whimpering.

Then it got worse. They stopped, and each of them donned a strap-on device, alternately fucking each other, screaming in ecstasy, until they collapsed, exhausted and fulfilled. They laid there with their backs against the headboard drinking wine and watching Jason in the silence of petit mort afterlife.

Jason summoned his courage. "Please. This hurts. Please, can you let me down? I beg you, please!"

Victoria glared at him. "I thought I told you to stay quiet. No matter; Suzie, cut him down, but make sure his catheter still goes where it`s supposed to go. And cuff his ankles together. Suzie?" 

Suzie awoke with a start.

Victoria laughed and repeated what she had said.

Mercifully, Jason was lowered to the floor after the cuffs had been locked to his ankles. The catheter tube snaked across the floor in front of him and went up and into the plastic bucket. He remotely remembered science courses in high school and university and made a mental note that there probably would not be enough pressure from his bladder to push the urine upward into the bucket unless he peed copious amounts. The pee would reside in the tube. He hoped he wouldn`t have to pee at all tonight, but he already felt the urge. He willed it away.

The lights went out after Suzie and Victoria snuggled in bed and he lay in darkness on the carpeted floor. He continued to see the images of the two girls making love and it was driving him crazy. At least the feeling was returning to his hands, but they were useless in the arm-binder. He dug deep and tried to will himself to have an orgasm but like everything else in his life now, it was an exercise in futility.

It was only three hours later that he finally came, the culmination of a vivid dream about Victoria and Suzie. He awoke, still moaning and writhing his hips. Thank God, he thought, thank God. What he had tried to do voluntarily earlier had been taken care of involuntarily, just by dreaming. If only life could be that easy, he thought.

Then he worried that the ejaculate would harden in the tube and if he had to pee, it would not go through. Five minutes later that worry was cast aside as he groaned while emptying his bladder in the most undignified way possible. He had held a lot back, and now it flowed freely, pushing up and over the rim of the bucket to plummet in a tinkle to the base.

Just before he fell asleep again, he mumbled softly to himself, almost delirious and trying to make sense of all this, "I am Jason Steele. I'm rich. I'm a lawyer. What the fuck is happening to me? How is this happening to me? How?"

He was startled to hear a whispered answer at his left ear in the dark, "Yes, you are rich and a lawyer, and I would add the word "arrogant". You are being humbled Mr. Steele, and it`s all because you think you`re above us all. Especially Jodi. You`re not above us at all, you know. Now learn to deal with it. Knowledge and humility will set you free."

As an afterthought she whispered, "Jodi loved you, you asshole."

He didn`t respond to her; he just listened to Victoria slip back into bed. He tried to get comfortable but could not. Sleep came anyway, and for a change it was deep and dreamless, despite his discomfort and the guilt.



The Club of Fools Ch. 04



Author's Notes:

(1) This is fiction;

(2) Do not read this chapter out of context. Read chapters 1-3;

(3) Jason is a masochist;

(4) Victoria is a sadist and possibly a psychopath, her actions illegal;

(5) Do NOT ever attempt "breath play" as it is described herein;

(6) Do NOT ever leave anyone in bondage as severe as this for as long as this;

(7) This story has scenes in it that will be upsetting to most, interesting to some, and erotic to an even fewer number of people. I don't expect many readers.

*****

Victoria cautiously opened one eye and found it was light outside. Suzie lay behind her, spooned into her back comfortably. She smelled like sex and the thought came over her briefly to engage in that once again, but then she smelled Suzie's breath, did the sour lemon look, and decided to get up and shower. Stepping around Jason, she checked his wellbeing and noted that he was breathing. That was good. Then she checked the bucket and noted that he had peed through the external catheter. He was fine, probably numb and in pain, but fine nonetheless. Served him right, the little shit.

She had been astounded that he had the gall to cut the chastity device off and in so doing, dare her to react. After many hours of contemplation about the degree of retaliation, she had decided to expose him to only one person, at least this time, as a "shot across the bow" so to speak. It seemed to have worked. He was subdued, angry but subdued, the first step in his absolute submission. By the end of the weekend he would be begging for anything that she could give him, not a broken man, but approaching that, perhaps a heavily burdened or bent man, one who for the first time could actually see his own breaking point, pull back, and submit to her to save himself. It was a form of breaking, she supposed, but she didn't really care; he was an aristocratic, arrogant piece of shit, and she had no interest in preserving his psychological makeup. In fact the reverse was true; now that she had him, she could mould him into anything she wanted, with the caveat that he still had to be able to function as a lawyer and supply her with the weekly fees. That was the tricky part, as it always was for a parasite: take too much out of the host and the host dies. The other six slaves were well healed, in balance and obedient, but Jason was clearly a slow learner. Until now.

She continued to the bathroom, deciding to leave him for the rest of the morning, at least until Lazy Suzie got up, which was usually around 10:30. What could another three hours do to him that had not already been done? That would be eighteen hours bound as he was. That alone would be enough to change a person.

She realized she was grumpy and extraordinarily nasty at the moment. She needed to shower, do her hair and makeup and then get dressed and make coffee. If she remained as she was, she might do serious damage to Jason, and although that sometimes made her quiver with excitement, it was a dangerous desire that she knew she needed to control. 

Later, as she daydreamed while drying her hair, she began to make more plans for Jason. There would be no letup on the bondage. Before he was released from one particular hold, he would be put into another, and so on the entire weekend, so that it was like a continuous chain of bondage. He would control nothing and be controlled entirely by her. And he would be used...oh how he would be used, in so many ways, not just sexually, but as a display of his emasculation, in whatever way that manifested itself. Maybe she would use him as a footstool, maybe suspend him from the ceiling, or simply force him to stand as a sculpture-like display of absolute bondage. As she thought these thoughts, she saw herself smiling in the mirror, and she briefly pushed her thighs together in anticipation of the endless orgasms to come.

Then some serious thoughts fell over her like a wet blanket. There was Jodi. The reason she had enslaved Jason was really because of her friend Jodi. Because of the latex hood, Jason was anonymous. Should she continue to serve Jason up as a prostitute sex slave to Jodi, or should she tell her that this was Jason, the man that she had loved and who had dumped her? Would she eventually recognize him? She decided to leave that alone for a while. Eventually that problem would solve itself in one way or another. But Jodi had obviously been intrigued with male emasculation and sexual usage in her introduction two weeks ago to the scene. Maybe Jason and Jodi were meant for each other anyway. Maybe she would give Jason to her as a gift to be owned by her. She chuckled at the dynamics of that, how he would be forced to serve her, even marry her if she chose to make it so. But Jason needed time to adapt to being her slave first, to be obedient, and at the same time Jodi needed time to immerse herself in the female domination scene, to learn and to grow within that framework. 

That night, it had been arranged for Jodi to come over for dinner and an evening of debauchery, the main course being Jason himself. For now it was preferable to simply use Jason as a prostitute only, an animal in bondage, a nameless sexual servant. It sounded cruel inside her head right now, but then she realized as always, that people like him secretly enjoyed this treatment. His penis was always attempting to become erect within the chastity cage, no matter what she did to him. Masochism was a strange beast, and when mated with sadism, became stranger still.

It was such delicious justice that Jason knew he was being used by the woman he had dumped; she could have him as male meat, but he could not really have her, not any more. He was an anonymous prostitute now, disguised by the latex hood, silenced by the gag and breathing tube, and bound by whatever means that seemed necessary for the sexual scene in which he was cast. Oh, and the chastity cage? That was just the frosting on top of everything else. He would not have an orgasm this weekend. It was perfect, and he deserved every bit of it.

Jason heard something, a consistent roar in the background. He opened his eyes and listened, finally comprehending it was a hair dryer. Someone was up and surely that meant he would be released soon. 

What, where, why, how, were the questions that flooded his brain but he quickly put the pieces together concerning his present situation. It was Saturday morning. He was bound and helpless at the foot of Victoria's bed, all because he had tested Victoria's mettle regarding her ingenious blackmail. His hands tingled within the arm-binder and his shoulders and head ached. His chin and jaws also ached from the constant pressure of the leather posture collar forcing his chin upward. The anal plug was being pressured from within. And he needed to pee. Again. So he did. Once more as he lay there motionless, he listened to it dribble from the catheter tube into the plastic pail.

He was humiliated and disgusted with himself. If the Law Society saw him now, he would be disbarred. If his wealthy philanthropic parents in high society saw him now, they would disown him. Therein lay his dilemma; Victoria had all the cards.

He couldn't tell who it was that was drying her hair, as from his vantage point on the floor, he could not see the top of the bed. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. His needs at the moment were simple: find a way to withstand the pain, and do anything to prevent this from happening to him again.

As he lay there waiting for the next phase of his atonement, he thought about last night. Had that really happened? And most of all, had he been dreaming when Victoria had said, "Knowledge and humility will set you free."? It sounded so melodramatic and stupid, but there seemed to be rays of truth within it; he was learning, and he was gaining humility while suffering humiliation. 

There were no sounds in the house now, but then again, the latex hood severely compromised his hearing, so he had no choice but to wait and wait, and wait. It was exasperating, but at the same time fulfilling, as endorphins took him higher and higher, and yet deeper and deeper into sub-space.

Victoria stepped over him suddenly and went to her bureau, pulling out a bra and a pair of panties, both white and plain but revealing. She stared at him while she leaned over letting her breasts fall and settle into the cups.

"Good morning," he said.

"Hey, how're you doing?" she responded as she slipped on the panties.

"Okay I guess. No, I'm not okay. Please, will you get me out of this? I'm begging you..." He didn't even have the strength or coordination to struggle.

Victoria smiled and walked toward him, squatting down so that he was looking directly at her pubic mound under the panties. Then she stared him in the eye said simply, "No."

Jason was not surprised, but he was dismayed. As she stepped over him again, disappearing into the closet, he pleaded with her, "Please Victoria! I have cramps... Look, I won't ever take the chastity lock off again, ever! I promise. I'll do anything you ask, anything. Please!"

She poked her head around the closet door and said, "Consequences Jason, consequences. This is the part that you missed or misunderstood in our little arrangement. You did what you did. You're getting the consequences. What do I gain by releasing you now? You see, you can't just SAY you'll do anything I ask; you have to WANT to do everything I ask, and that requires a change in your attitude. You'll come around though; I have confidence in you." She came back into the bedroom fully dressed in a casual loose black skirt and a sweater top on this cool October morning.

"Please!" he pleaded once again, his voice choking. He was almost weeping.

Just before she left for the kitchen she turned to him with a frown and said, "For God's sake Jason, shut up! Or I'll put the..." Then she smiled and said, "No, I've heard enough. I will anyway."

She retrieved his club kit bag and took out the black latex hood, shoved the mouth gag into his mouth and pulled the rest of the hood over his head right over top of the other hood and over the posture collar on his neck. The goggles clicked against each other and his vision became more blurry looking through the two sheets of plastic lenses, and now he couldn't speak. All he could hear was his own breathing as she left to make coffee.

He groaned, as that was all he could do. Then after a few moments he began to sob. He couldn't take much more of this, he realized. Something was going to break, and it wasn't his bones. Over and over he formed the words "please" and he tried to utter them, but the bondage turned the words to whimpers and squeals which escaped from his breathing tube and dispersed in the silence of the bedroom.

By the time Suzie got up, he was still whimpering and she rolled him over to see if he was alright. Physically he seemed fine. Mentally, she wasn't so sure; there was an odd look she could see in his eyes, even through the double panes of plastic. It was a wild look, like an animal in a net or a cage.

Even for Suzie, this was alarming. She walked briskly to the kitchen where she knew she would find Victoria and explained what she had seen.

"Yeah," Victoria said, "He's at his wit's end. He's just now beginning to understand his new "world order". You see, in his off-balance mind right now, he has to look to me for relief. There is no choice. He will trust me to give him life even while I could easily take it away. He won't disobey me again. Now make me some of your good waffles would you please? I thought you'd never get up."

Suzie marveled at her spouse's ability to be cruel but at the same time train another human being like a puppy. That was her plan. Jason would be just like the others, obedient in every way, the club of idiots, or as she liked to call them, the club of fools.

As noon approached and Suzie cleared away the breakfast dishes, Victoria blurted out, "I just decided where to go with Jason. We'll unpeel him like an onion, mentally and physically, so he has no doubt who's the boss here. That's happening right now as we speak. Then we'll dress him in his favorite clothes to firm up his sexual addictions."

"You mean bra and panties and high heels like in his incriminating video? Stuff like that?"

"Exactly. He loves it. You know what they say, "any port in a storm". After all the pain and humiliation he's suffering right now, being dressed up and feminized will seem like a safe haven for him, like it never was before. He'll grab on to that and hold on for dear life."

"Your psychological training never ceases to amaze me Vicky. You are truly evil," Suzie said, shaking her head and snickering, "But what if we broke him, you know, what if his mind cracked last night?"

Victoria laughed this time. "Broke him? Maybe. But he was already broken; he just didn't know it. We're going to fix him. He won't be normal, but he'll be whole. He's going to have to grasp onto his perversions as a lifeline, and in so doing understand what he is for what it is. He can't go through life putting everybody else down just because he's rich, good looking and smart, and yet ignoring his perversions as if they don't exist. He has to understand that he's just like everybody else, warts and all. He might have learned it a little too late since I own him now, but he needs to understand life and people a bit better, don't you think?"

"So," said Suzie, "Is this going to be his role with us then, some sort of feminized man?"

"I think so. Yeah, I've thought about how we could use him effectively and I think that's where he fits. He likes it, but he would prefer it in private, so no one knows. I want to expose him to our group over and over and over again and when I allow an orgasm it'll be at my discretion and in the context of the scenes that I devise. Can't you just see him all dolled up and serving our guests every weekend? His fantasies (as shameful as they are to him right now) will be enabled and reinforced over and over again. Every time I allow him to have an orgasm, it'll be directly or indirectly as a consequence of my criteria, his being dressed as a woman, or being fucked like a woman or a gay man. He won't know anything else after a while, and he'll automatically come to us for that release and renewal, week after week after week. It's like putting him in a maze and there's only one way out. And the relentless association of orgasm with all of this will cause him to be sexually imprinted, so he won't be able to be aroused by anything else. It's perfect. All this in front of not only you and me, but all our girls as well. And here's the beauty of it: he'll pay us to do it."

Suzie shrugged and said, "Hmm, sounds logical in a very Machiavellian way, I guess. He can't do much else, can he?"

"No. He's trapped. The bondage he's in right now is physical, but I'm planning psychological bondage to replace it, and it's far more restricting. We've got him Suzie, we've got him."

"Okay, so of the seven of our boys, we have a leather freak, a latex freak, two adult babies, two bondage freaks, and now a feminized sissy. We could open a side show in a circus. And all of them are heterosexuals terrified of being exposed as having had gay encounters in the videos. I wonder why so many men are afraid of being branded as gay. You'd think in this day and age, that fear would be less compelling. Well, anyway, they are what they are; who am I to try to understand? So, do we start buying and ordering clothes for Jason then?"

"Yes, definitely. I've thought this through now. He likes tight women's underwear, stuff that's really constrictive and restrictive; I'm thinking some severe corsets, lots of bras and girdles, stockings and garters, high heels, wigs, silicone breast inserts (maybe the self-adhering type) , the works. Which reminds me, did the bondage corset arrive yet?"

Suzie said, "Yeah, yesterday."

"What? Why didn't you tell me? He could have been in it for the past 18 hours!" Victoria got up and poured herself another coffee and then said, "Let's go and rescue him from his present predicament and put him in another, shall we? First we'll have him shower, shave and do an enema, then after that we'll feed him and introduce him to his corset."

As they walked to the bedroom to free Jason from his bondage, Suzie asked, "So, what are your plans for him for the rest of the day?"

Victoria pondered a moment as she walked and said, "Well, nothing much really except some bondage and humiliation, whatever comes to mind. I'm just going to keep him comfortably or uncomfortably in bondage. We can use him for some limited things, but not many. Why do you ask?"

They were just entering the bedroom and Suzie said, "Isn't it about time we trained him for oral sex?"

Victoria smiled. Suzie always wanted oral sex. "Maybe," she said, "But it's more important to just keep him weak and immobilized. Make him want it."

Jason was almost unconscious and deep in "sub-space". His muscles were out of control and cramping madly, sometimes twitching involuntarily, while he whimpered in absolute helplessness. He felt someone sit him up while his arm-binder was removed as well as the ankle cuffs. His arms flopped to his side like rag doll arms, unable to feel or be used for anything. He felt tingling sensations as the partial blood circulation forced by the bondage was replaced with the full circulation of freedom. They began to hurt and he continued whimpering through his gag.

After an agonizing period of time, all his bondage was removed, including the two latex hoods and the leather posture collar. With difficulty and through Suzie's support, he stood, staring blankly around the room, his chin down and mouth open. His breath smelled and his eyes were glassy when he asked, "Can I have some water please?"

They allowed him to drink for a few moments and then told him to lie down on the bed while they massaged his limbs back to life. He simply groaned and took it all in. When he was finally able to move his arms with some limited control, they led him to the bathroom where he was given a full enema followed by a shower and the removal of the external catheter. Then his anal plug was reinserted, but instead of putting him into the chastity device, a new external catheter was placed on his penis. A rubber hose fell from it grotesquely and swung from side to side like an elephant's trunk when he moved. He was unable to offer any resistance, and even if he could physically, he knew intellectually that resisting was not wise. His mind had gone as weak as his body, like the boxing adage: punish the body, the head will die.

He shaved and drifted in and out of daydreams while Victoria readied a severe looking leather garment beside him on the bathroom countertop. He thought of food. He thought of Jodi. Then he wondered why he had thought of Jodi. Why had he dumped her? She was so sweet, adventurous and intelligent, and very beautiful. He remembered jumping off the cliffs into the river with her, and playing golf, even mini-golf. Victoria was right; Jodi had loved him, and he realized now that he had loved her. And that had scared him. He understood that now. It had been necessary to leave her before he could get hopelessly entwined with her, before she could find out about him, about his...

Victoria interrupted his thoughts and said, "Put your hands up in the air and touch the top of the door frame please."

She noted that he obeyed without question but he needed help to stretch his arms up and high over his head, as his muscles had not fully recovered. He grunted in the pain of stretched muscles as the leather corset was wrapped around his body, cold at first but warming up quickly as the clasps were done up the front. Even before tightening, it was snug, and it was very heavily boned from just below his armpits to just above his knees. Instead of laces it had at least a dozen roller buckles for tightening on each side below his armpits, but in front from just above his groin there was a lace up panel that could be undone for genital access when needed. This was mirrored in the back for anal access, if required for sexual purposes. One by one, starting at his waist, the roller buckles were pulled as tight as the two of them could manage, each one locked in place with a small luggage lock. Like a boa constrictor, for every breath exhaled there was an equal and opposite constriction of the corset so that his chest and breathing capacity became smaller and smaller.




The Club of Fools Ch. 04



When he was told to put his arms down, he could only breathe in short puffs. Within minutes his head was ringing and his lips tingled slightly. "Oh my God!" he gasped, "What are you," he gasped for breath again, "What are you doing to me?"

Victoria stared her usual level stare and said, "Whatever we want. Now let me explain this corset to you. You see all the d-rings on it? We can attach you anywhere. And the boning is so stiff, you won't be able to bend. Sitting is impossible. If you need to go to the bathroom, just put the catheter tube in the toilet. If you manage to end up on the floor, you won't be able to get up. You'll only be allowed to lie down when you're serving us or we have no use for you."

"Serve you?" he said innocently, thinking they wanted drinks prepared or snacks brought to them.

Victoria said, "Well now, how can you serve me? Let me count the ways. When we want you to give us oral service, we lay you down. When we want you to be a footstool, we lay you down. When we want you to simply be an ornament of emasculation, we display you standing for all to see. When we...well you get my drift."

Jason sighed in dismay and utter fatigue and said, "Victoria, haven't you taken this far enough? Do you really have to do this? I'm tired, and frankly not in the mood. Just release me and I won't fuck with you again. I promise. I'm done." And he meant it. He was beaten. He continued to take small breaths, struggling to simply keep his thoughts straight. The restriction at his thighs caused him to be cautiously aware of balance as well, as he could only take small steps.

Victoria pushed him lightly, causing him to take several small steps to regain his balance. "Jason," she said, "I'm not in the mood for you not being in the mood, and I'm not in the mood for forgiveness. You thought this was a game. It isn't...at least for you. You'll pay me $1000 per week until I say stop, and you'll do as you're told. The rules are simple but the consequences for breaking them are complex and taxing. These are your consequences. 

By the way, I'm having a good friend over tonight for drinks, maybe a movie and a "sleep-over". You might know her...Jodi? You're simply going to be a prop. Maybe I'll attach you to the ceiling, maybe to the wall, or maybe you'll just have to stand around to see if one of us chooses to use you. Believe me, by that time, you'll be grateful to be used. And I haven't decided what tomorrow holds for you, although some housework may be in order. We might use you for entertainment or not; I don't know yet. Now do you understand how this weekend is going to unfold?"

She had him at "Jodi". He responded with fatigue, "Jodi? Here? Again?" He began to feel like he was cracking under the weight of this absurdity. He shook his head from side to side and said, "No, this is insane. You have to give me the keys to these locks. This can't be happening; it just can't. I feel like an idiot. I want out. Now! Just stop!" He was out of breath from the speech.

Victoria scowled and said, "Oh Jason, get real! You ARE an idiot. Think about your sweet old lady neighbor, Rachel. Think about your mother and father and your brothers. Think about your father's trust fund for you, your career. Stop your futile resistance right now or I'll get serious about exposing you for what you are. A touch of a "send" button is all it takes. Or I could just lock you into my solitary confinement cell for a few hours."

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in a display of submission, but said nothing. He stood there staring at himself in the bathroom mirror struggling to take short puffs of air like an asthmatic.

"Glad you agree," Victoria said haughtily, "Now put your arms behind your back please so you can be locked back into your beautiful arm-binder. I like you better when you're absolutely helpless."

He was unable, or perhaps unwilling, to push his arms back far enough, so Suzie pulled on them and put his hands together so that they slipped into the single leather mitten. Five minutes later he was buckled and laced into the device, rigidly bound in an utterly hopeless condition. 

He was a sight, as he was forced to look at himself in the mirror with his shoulders forced back and his arms hidden and useless behind his back. He breathed in short puffs, and resisted the desire to whimper or cry. At least he wasn't gagged this time, he thought with relief.

My name is Jason Steele. My name is Jason Steele. This is not happening...this just cannot be happening. He tried to believe the mantra, that this was some horrible illusion that was not real.

But it was.

He was led to the kitchen where they fed him two protein drinks and some sugar cookies. Indeed, the food did help him. Now that he was fed, Suzie positioned the gag from the red latex hood and pushed it into his mouth, then pulled it over his head. There was a moment when he thought about not opening his mouth for the gag, but he had learned already how easy it was for them to make him open his mouth...a simple squeeze of his testicle, maybe a pinch of his nipple, but resistance was futile. As if all this was not enough, the severe leather posture collar was cinched and locked back in place. 

He caught a glance of himself in a mirror near the kitchen table and was shocked. It was like he was a piece of bizarre furniture, something useless, unable to function as a living thing. This would have been beyond a nightmare except for one small detail: under the corset he knew he was hard, and he desperately wanted the girls to throw him down and give him an orgasm. It confused him to no end. How could he have so much humiliation and pain and be aroused by it? How?

But by midafternoon the sexual energy started to diminish as he continually struggled to walk in his corset while walking behind Victoria as she had instructed him to do. His legs and shoulders ached and at times he thought he might faint. She made cookies in the kitchen, dusted and vacuumed the house, watched a 3:00 soap opera, and went to the bathroom twice, all with Jason closely by her side. Failure to follow her apparently meant some sort of punishment, so he was careful to oblige. His hips and upper legs were exhausted from the constant shuffling of his lower legs to keep up with her. It was insane. He began to feel insane. How could this be enjoyable for anyone? But occasionally Victoria glanced at him and smirked or patted him where his penis should be under the corset, and he realized that this was not for him; it was for her. She enjoyed it.

Now he stood in her bedroom. It was 3:05. Like an erotic strip tease, she undressed in front of him, even coming up to him and rubbing her pubic area on his hip while stroking his latex clad head with one hand, squeezing his nipple with the other. She told him to bend at the waist and she pushed her breasts into his face and gyrated, laughing. He moaned with frustration. His hands writhed within the single mitten behind his back, soaked with perspiration within the leather arm-binder. Now Suzie entered and helped Victoria get dressed, lacing her tightly into a black leather under-bust corset, fastening stockings to the garters and then lacing up the knee high stilettoes. As she wrapped a slithery and clingy bathrobe over herself she mocked him. "You want this Jason? Are you hard under that corset Jason? Too bad you don't have hands isn't it Jason? Maybe you wish you were asleep and at least then you could have a wet dream. But you're not, and you won't, will you Jason?"

Jason tried to distance himself mentally from this mocking but it didn't work. Involuntary moans escaped from his breathing tube which was already taxed by the forced puffing and gasping from the tight corset. This was torture without even doing anything physical to him other than the removal of his ability to move. His mind arced and vibrated with static energy, all built up and with no place to go. He knew he was in serious trouble when he heard his own whimpering.

At 4:00 the doorbell rang. Standing behind Victoria while she opened the front door, he felt humbled and degraded in an absolute way. 

He had never seen Jodi like this. She was dressed like she was going to live theatre or some gala. A "little black dress" hugged her from the shoulders down to mid-thigh, narrowing corset-like at the waist, and she too had lace up stiletto boots up to the knee. Jason looked at both of them, and realized his imagery was wrong; they looked like hookers or dominatrices. In contrast Suzie stood by in a t-shirt and a skirt that one might wear to a laundromat. Jodi entered and gave Victoria and Suzie and hug and a kiss on their cheeks and then stood back admiring Jason, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Wow!" she said, "What have we here?"

She cast him glances of contempt while walking around him and testing the various bondage measures. "Another prostitute Vickie?" she asked.

Jason noted that she had certainly matured in the scenes of kink since the first time he saw her here. There was a confidence and knowledge of the pleasure that would be later derived from the developing scene.

"Yes, he is, but this one's actually more than that," Victoria said, "He's my slave. I own him. Don't I piggy?"

Jason couldn't nod his head because of the collar, so he grunted through the breathing tube and blinked his eyes.

Jodi brushed imaginary lint off her clothes, fixed her lipstick and said to him, "Your body looks a bit familiar. Was he the wax-head guy? It was so dark in the garage that night when we played with him."

"Yes," Victoria said, "Same guy."

Now Jodi got serious as she stared at him. She walked up close and stared him in the eyes. He couldn't help it; he whimpered. She was so stunning. She turned her head sideways, squinted her eyes and then she drew her breath in quickly. She walked around behind him suddenly and ran her hand over a series of three small bright red raised birth marks at the base of his neck. Then she turned him around to face her once again and said with alarm, "Jason? This is Jason! Vickie, what's going on here? Is this some kind of sick joke?"

This had been unexpected. There was stunned silence for a few moments while Victoria collected herself. "Oh shit! Let me explain. Jodi, he came to me for some rough sex. I was his prostitute. Let's just say I've harnessed some of that sexual energy. Now he's my prostitute." She held up her hand to stop Jodi's response and continued, "Oh Jodi, I know you loved him and I was so mad when he dumped you, I just wanted to get back at him for you; that's all. And I have. Did you know he was like this?"

"No! Of course not. I..."

"Well, that's not all. He likes to wear women's clothes and pretend he's a woman."

Jodi looked horrified. "What?" she exclaimed. Jason stood there trying to talk. Frantic gibberish and grunts escaped from his breathing tube.

Victoria continued. "I think that's why he dumped you. You were getting too close. I decided to expose him, or at least threaten to expose him."

"So," Jodi asked angrily, "At what point were you going to tell me that I was fucking Jason in your kinky scenes? Jesus Vickie!"

"To be honest, I didn't think you'd find out. I guess I was naïve on that. And the plan was to keep him disguised so you wouldn't identify him. I wanted him to be used by you so he knew what it was like, and he couldn't tell you or show you who he was, the ultimate frustration. I never, ever intended to hurt you Jodi."

Now there were several awkward moments of near silence. Suzie looked on, horrified at the scene unfolding in front of her. Jodi walked back and forth in front of the now closed front door, fuming. Victoria sat down on the boot bench and put her face in her hands. Through it all Jason tried to talk by grunting and moaning.

With sudden fury, Jodi turned to Jason and screamed, "Will you shut the fuck up, you fucking pervert!"

Jason was gasping for air. Jodi stopped pacing and said, "So you got me into this group of kinky ladies so that you could punish Jason? That's crazy! Didn't you even once think of me in all this? I need a drink of wine. Jesus!"

Victoria ushered them all into the living room and uncorked a bottle of Shiraz, pouring everyone a drink, except Jason of course. He looked on with envy.

Victoria said, almost sheepishly, "Well, I was thinking of you indirectly. I just wanted to punish Jason directly, through you and for you. And along the way I get to enjoy his punishments. That's all I intended here, honestly Jodi. Please forgive me."

Jodi drank half the glass of wine and sat on the sofa staring at the emasculated Jason standing there in utter helplessness in front of her. "You prick!" she said, "When were you going to tell me about your kinks? Instead of telling me, you run away? You're a coward Jason. And don't start moaning and grunting through your breathing tube you asshole!"

Victoria spoke up, "Jodi, look, I think this is FUBAR now. I'll make Jason disappear and I'll get one of my other slaves to come. Or, I'd understand if you left, or even if you didn't want to see me again. I get that. But leave knowing that I care about you and I value your friendship. It's your call, and I'm sorry how all this went down."

Jodi sat in silence and finished her first glass of wine. She held out the glass for Suzie to fill again. "Why would I leave?" she said, "The night is young and there's you and Suzie, and this, this thing standing here, waiting to be used and abused. What have you got on him anyway? Why does he come back to you? I assume you're blackmailing him?"

Victoria looked relieved and said, "Well, that's too strong a word. Come and look at this and you'll see why he comes back. Let's just say he feels obliged. Now before you look at this, you have to know that only the four of us in this room will have seen this video. Once you see it, you'll be able to imagine what hell would break loose if this became viral."

Jason winced under his latex mask while Jodi watched the various videos that were made of him in severely compromising positions. She glanced periodically at him and shook her head, smiling.

"So, he's gay then. Jesus! I sure pick 'em!"

"Oh no. To the contrary," Victoria said, "He's a heterosexual. That's why he's ashamed by his fantasies."

Jason was getting dizzy. He swayed and adjusted his feet continually while the discussion was taking place before him. He felt completely objectified, as if he was not a human in the same room with people discussing his condition. The room was getting darker and his legs felt like rubber. His knees shook.

Jodi was halfway through the second glass of wine. "So what now then? What are you going to do with him then? What are WE going to do with him?"

Suddenly they heard a thump, followed by two more thumps. Jason was on the floor face down on the carpet. Thankfully he had bounced off the sofa and the chair before hitting the floor. His legs, his only movable parts, moved as if he was trying to walk. Victoria quickly removed his latex hood and the posture collar and was mentally prepared to conduct CPR or any other type of resuscitation. 

"Are you okay Jason? Jason, Jason..." She shook him and he answered in a shaky voice.

"I'm as fine as I can be, considering," he said, "I don't know what happened. I just got dizzy; that's all. And my legs...they're so tired...please, I'm just tired..."

Now Jodi spoke up in an uncharacteristic way. "He's okay. Leave him on the floor, give him some water and put his fucking hood and gag back on, the little shit! He wants kink? He's gonna get kink. Did I ever tell you about the time I dressed my little brother in a bra, panties and a dress and spanked him like he was a bad girl?"

Victoria looked at Suzie. Suzie looked at Victoria. Their eyes were wide with astonishment and almost embarrassment at her outburst. Jodi had another sip of wine and stared into space. Jason looked at all of them but didn't dare speak. He sensed the odds were not in his favor. Within minutes, after his thirst was quenched, the gag filled his mouth and the tight latex hood snapped into place over his head and around his neck. The collar followed and was locked in place. Immobilized and silenced once again, he laid there waiting for whatever they had in store for him. 

Relaxed finally on the floor, he found that he got hard again. He gave up trying to understand why that was and just didn't really think any more. He felt pain; he felt arousal; that's all there was. He waited. 

The cat was out of the bag. Jodi knew everything about him. On top of that, he was being taught a lesson by Victoria this weekend, a severe and punishing lesson. His muscles vibrated with occasional spasms and painful cramps and his jaw ached from the ever present gag. He had given up trying to shift his arms for comfort within the arm-binder behind his back and his hands were tingly. He allowed himself to slip back into sub-space and accept everything that was happening to him as inevitable. And he resolved that if they ever released him from this bondage, he would do everything in his power to avoid it in the future. And he knew what that meant; he had to please them in any way they desired. In his mind, he surrendered. She owned him.

Time passed in a warped sort of way, minutes slow, hours fast. Jason had been left on the floor while the three girls had supper and they returned now to the living room chatting incessantly, fueled by excessive wine with the meal.

"Well, well, he's still here!" Victoria said, "What do you want to do, watch a movie or use him for something?"

Suzie, the least talkative of the three, said, "I'm horny. I want to use him. Let's play."

Here it comes, Jason thought. With Queen blasting away in the background, they stripped down to their corsets and sat around him on the floor tickling, pinching, or stroking him like small children with a kitty, while they continued to drink. Then Suzie had the bright idea of pulling his catheter tube up and inserting it into his breathing tube.

"Look," she said, laughing, "He's giving himself a blowjob!" They watched him suck for air in panic for quite some time. Eventually he was squealing in frustration, his eyes wide and wild with fear. Just before he thought he might pass out, the tube was removed but his squeals continued as the breathing tube only allowed air for regular breathing, not "catch-up" breathing. Just when the panic subsided, Victoria now took her turn. She was far more experienced in "breath play", taking him to the absolute edge of both insanity and life, only allowing air when he gave up trying to breathe.

Jodi watched, transfixed, especially noting that Jason remained hard while fighting for air. Most peculiar. Then her face lit up with an idea. "Watch this," she said. She sat on his chest and grabbed his breathing tube, holding it up while she raised herself over it. Then she held it near her vagina, occasionally sealing the end by pushing it against one of her lips. She felt the suction as he tried to breathe. Now as she rose up over his face, she inserted the entire tube fully into her vagina and pushed herself down on his face, gyrating and staring down at him with her mouth open and her tongue extended slightly.

Jason panicked. The tube's inside her, he thought. He tried to struggle but there was no means to do so and she continued to rotate on top of him. That empty feeling in his chest was getting greater in a rising crescendo of two things, decreasing oxygen and rising carbon dioxide. He found himself whimpering now, but at the same time incredibly aroused. When he finally stopped trying to breathe a strange thing happened. He knew he was dying, but a euphoria set over him and something roared from his penis. He didn't know if it was urine or ejaculate, but he didn't care as he tried to thrust upward toward her. Then the room got bright and then dark and then light again with swirling colors. The next thing he knew he heard talking.




The Club of Fools Ch. 04



"Is he okay?" someone asked. It was like coming to after anaesthetic from surgery, voices in the distance, clear but far away, eventually coming closer and accompanied by other sounds. Now music, now the rustle of clothing, everything crystal clear. He was breathing; he could hear it more than feel it.

"Jodi, you can't ever take it that far," Victoria said sternly.

Jodi had that dreamy look of a woman who had just come out of the orgasm window. "But I was cumming," she said.

"Doesn't matter. Don't EVER do that again. You want to go to jail for murder?"

Jason listened, unable to speak through the gag, but he wanted to say, "It's okay. It's really okay. That was the most savagely erotic feeling I have ever had. Please do it again. Please. No other feeling in his life had ever compared to that. If that was death, he was not afraid.

"Is that urine? Doesn't smell like it," Suzie said.

"I think so," Victoria said as she examined the end of his catheter tube, "But there's not much of it, and the way he reacted, I suspect it's cum as well. It's almost like it's some sort of mixed discharge, like I've heard of in some death situations. This was close, way too close."

Now Jodi came back to earth. "You mean while I was having that spectacular orgasm, he was dying?" she asked, stunned.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean," Victoria said, "Only he came too, and he'll never be the same again. From what I understand it's pretty hard to top that end-of-life orgasm he probably just experienced. Look Jodi, breath play is something I have lots of experience with. It's so very dangerous; you have to know your subject, and you have to be able to read the signs and react quickly. Don't EVER do that again, especially after you've had some wine. Promise?"

"Jesus! Yeah, I promise. That was stupid and I sort of got caught up with things I guess. Should we take all his restraints off?"

"I said it was dangerous and you shouldn't have done that. I didn't say we shouldn't leave him like this," she said with a laugh, "He's got lots more penance to serve."

Jodi sat on the carpet beside Jason and was silent for a few moments. "Vickie, Suzie, uh, I want to fuck him. I...God...I want him so bad...are you okay with that? I want him inside me. I mean would you mind? I mean alone, just with him?"

"Really?" Victoria asked, "After what he did to you? You want to let him fuck you?"

"That's not what I said. I said I wanted to fuck HIM. There's a big difference."

Suzie and Victoria looked at each other and nodded, leaving the room hand in hand, as they had each other. Jodi watched them leave and then turned her attention to Jason who lay there as mobile as a log. Gradually, and with increasing speed, she untied the laces which restricted access to his penis. Despite the recent shocks, it sprung out of hiding, erect and ready, but with the catheter still attached. He moaned and whimpered as she gently removed the catheter and stroked his penis. She turned the lights out and relied on moonlight to guide her.

Jason stared up at Jodi in adoring submissiveness, unable to physically respond to her touch, except through his erection. His hands and arms restrained underneath him in the arm-binder longed to touch her, to feel that porcelain skin, the hotness of it, glistening with moonlight sweat. He longed to tell her that he loved her, but it was too late for that. That ship had sailed and she was only using him as a sexual prop now; he realized that. He wanted to be inside her; he wanted to be with her; he wanted, he just wanted her, or maybe he needed her. Like a thunderbolt he realized that was it. Now that she knew, he needed her. Would she want him? He closed his eyes and told himself it didn't matter; he was hers to use as she saw fit. It was what he deserved and if that was all he could salvage from this mess, then that would have to do.

Jodi rose up over him and guided his penis into her, just the tip at first, and she savored that initial contact before descending upon him, plunging his penis in until she cried out. He also groaned through his breathing tube until she put her finger over the end to control his breathing. This time she was careful to allow him to breathe regularly, at least once on every second up thrust, with just enough control to make him understand her power over him. He understood and geared his breathing to what was allowed. Now as she rode him slowly she leaned over his face and said, "Don't cum. I'll tell you when you can cum. If you cum before I tell you to, then this bondage will seem light compared to what you'll get tomorrow. Do you understand Jason?"

Jason was near orgasm when those instructions were issued and he immediately grunted "uh-huh" which could be heard through the breathing tube very clearly. Then he tried to think of chocolate cake or fishing or business while she used him up. She rode him slowly, then quickly and roughly, then gently with half cycles, while she gasped and moaned until finally she climaxed in a rain of screams and shudders. As her trembling subsided she leaned over his face and whispered, "Now, Jason, you can cum now."

Then she put her finger over his breathing tube and rode him fiercely until she felt his violent spurts inside her. She came again and when she took her finger off his tube, she heard his whimpers and triumphed in it. She looked down at him and smiled in the moonlight, knowing their relationship had moved to a new level, a very different one from when he had dumped her. 

This changed everything.



The Club of Fools Ch. 05



Author's Notes as before:

(1) This is fiction;

(2) Do not read this chapter out of context. Read chapters 1-4;

(3) Jason is a masochist;

(4) Victoria is a sadist and possibly a psychopath, her actions illegal;

(5) Do NOT ever attempt "breath play" as it is described herein;

(6) Do NOT ever leave anyone in bondage as severe as this for as long as this and without supervision;

(7) This story has scenes in it that will be upsetting to most, interesting to some, and erotic to an even fewer number of people. I don't expect many readers.

(8) No masochists were harmed in the writing of this story.

*****

Jason slept, but there were dreams, lots of them, but all the same. He was walking through a shopping mall. It was crowded. Suddenly he realized he was dressed in a corset and he was unable to speak. A gag was locked into his mouth in some strange way and the corset was made of a strange steel-like flexible metal and locked as well. Someone kept prodding him in the back to move forward, always forward. In fact he couldn't go back. People were chasing him. His breathing and movement, as restricted as they were, caused him to slow down in fatigue. He was falling behind and they caught him. He was surrounded. They laughed; they prodded; they pushed him down and rolled him over, taking pictures and commenting on Facebook.

He woke up on his side with his catheter hose pulled up and over his left leg into that now familiar bucket. The lights were out and the room was lit only by moonlight. A toilet flushed in the distant reaches of the house, and then there was nothing. Jodi had left him for the night. Fantasy and reality were one and the same now, a misty pastel shading where there were no sharp boundaries even with pain; numbness replaced those boundaries, a soft squishy, unfeeling sort of thing. It was not sleep that came to him now; it was unconsciousness. Sub-space was like that sometimes.

Much later, a sunbeam from the front window traced its way across the room and he awoke in its path, blinking. It warmed the second skin of latex on his head to the point that his face was sweating, but he couldn't remove himself from it; his bondage was as firm and unyielding as ever and the futility of any attempt was obvious. His stomach growled, he was thirsty, and like a dog, he hoped that his owners would feed him soon and give him a bowl of water. He peed in the bucket and waited. The sunbeam moved to his leather bondage corset and heated it up now, so that his sweatiness changed location. He was sure he smelled.

But his mind was charged and busy. He went over the highlights of last evening in detail. Now Jodi knew that he was a crossdresser, a fetishist, and both virtually and literally owned by Victoria. She knew everything. He had spent that whole year and a half dating her, carefully avoiding the intimacy required to share with her his deepest and darkest secrets. And it just dawned on him at this moment that the lack of intimacy had also not allowed her to tell him of her perverted desires, not that it was deliberate on her part. After all, she did not seem ashamed by her fantasies, but he was sure ashamed of his. And now she knew. And not only that, but she seemed damned pissed off at him, enough anger there to almost kill him.

But she had ridden him to orgasm last night, and she had lost herself in that passion. What was that all about? He thought it through now, of the command of hers to not have an orgasm until she said so, the controlling of his air supply through the breathing tube when he was allowed to cum, and suddenly, in an epiphany, he had an idea. It was clear she enjoyed him as a sexual object, something to be used and stored away for future use. And he enjoyed being treated that way; he actually enjoyed it. Could he somehow use this as a roadmap to her heart, a bizarre map, but a map nonetheless? If he was submissive to her, maybe he could have her. Certainly his former identity was not going to fly with her, so why not be what she wanted? And what he now wanted.

He laid there and became aroused thinking of her, seeing her in his mind's eye, smelling her sweat and perfume and all those pheromones swirling about her. Maybe if he pleased her in this way, in this new role of submission, she could learn to love him again. He had been such an asshole. And what was the difference anyway? He had been a slave to the denial of his fantasies all his adult years. Could it be so different to now embrace them and be addicted to the reality of them, now that she knew all of his perverted desires?

Jason's thoughts rambled about, criss-crossing in random ways, and he had no idea that he had been broken by the events of the past two days; he had no idea that the way he was thinking now was completely different from the way he thought a week ago, a month ago. Something had cracked, and it was a clean break, with no pain, just the realization that whatever broke was bearing too much anyway. The break was inevitable. Now he was simply conforming to the psychological space he was in, like a pumpkin forced to grow between large rocks; he would survive by taking the shape that was given him. 

Now he made plans in his sub-space stew of thought. He resolved to call all of them "ma'am" from now on. That would please them. And he wouldn't resist any longer; there was no point to that. It only led to this, this endless bondage, this pain of limb, and the silence and rejection. Yes, he liked being used, but he would prefer to be used while making himself useful to them by his own actions. As it was now, all he supplied was his penis or tongue, or his male vagina (as Victoria had called his asshole once) , and he could give so much more; he could be so much more.

Somebody leaned over him from behind and plugged his breathing tube. When he struggled, the hand left him. There was nothing else; the hand simply checked for signs of life in a clinical way like taking a pulse. It occurred to him to check his own extremities. He flexed his shoulders slightly and found that they ached slightly but were mostly just numb, and when his brain sent signals to wiggle his fingers within the mitten of the arm-binder, there was a moment of panic as he forgot how to move them. He tried harder and then he felt something, a tingly "foot-asleep" type of feeling and he didn't like it, so he stopped. His legs had always been free, at least below his knees, and he flexed them now. He tried to take a deep breath, but the bondage corset sealed him like in a tight sarcophagus, and the neck posture collar remained rigid, pushing his cheeks out above it and squishing the mouth gag firmly in this speechless eternity.

Time was not measurable except by the movement of that sunbeam across the floor. It must be late now, he thought, as the beam had marched across the floor and was bent and broken on the edge of the sofa. He puzzled over this for quite some time. Then the sunbeam disappeared suddenly. He moved his eyeballs toward the source of the blockage and saw Dougie standing there with a coffee and a piece of toast. Dougie shook his head in amusement at Jason's bondage predicament, and even went over to him to roll him over with his foot. Now he faced the hallway down to Victoria's bedroom. 

Pressure was building in his bowels against the anal plug. He hoped they would get up and give him his enema soon; he felt so full at the very same time that his stomach growled with emptiness.

He waited.

He didn't realize his delirium until an awareness moment flooded over him in the bathroom. They were stripping him of his bondage once again and he felt that enema tube inside him, felt his stomach swell with the fluid. Then time skipped to the shower where they washed him and shaved him. He only vaguely realized that they shaved his face and removed all his body hair. His arms felt strange, useless, like the arms of a rag doll, but they had feeling at least. Now he was standing in front of the mirror and he saw the stripes of the boning of the corset on his skin, red and straight like the canals of Mars. He stood and waited to be bound within the corset again, but instead they fitted him with a white bra and black panties, as well as a white waist-cincher girdle which they did up in the front with the numerous hook and eye closures. It seemed like a throwback to the fifties as there were six garters attached which they now attached to his stockings which, in contrast, were black to match the panties. He had no recollection of even lifting his feet to put the stockings on.

A drink and a straw was thrust in front of him. "Drink this protein drink," Suzie said, "And I'll cook up some breakfast for you once we're done dressing you up."

"Thanks Su...uh, ma'am," he said, "Where's Jodi ma'am?" His voice croaked from lack of use.

"In the kitchen. No talking now. Drink up; I want to get your lipstick on."

The drink was like a tonic, and the clothing was too. It elevated his spirits, knowing that the bondage of the past two days was being replaced with this soft but tight female clothing, a second skin of tight reassurance. It felt absolutely wonderful, satiny and fresh with feminine perfumes, and he breathed deep breaths, filling his lungs while at the same time filling his stomach. Submitting like this, he felt so oddly free, and the humiliation of wearing female clothing was like a reward compared to what he had just gone through. He felt he had passed a test and was being rewarded in some bizarre way.

He finished the drink quickly and felt strength and awareness increase. His mascara and eyeshadow, as well as foundation makeup and highlights, were applied, finally followed by the red lipstick. He smacked his lips and tasted it as they fitted the blond wig over his head. The long hair tickled his bare neck.

Suzie said, "Okay, almost ready. You look like a man in drag, but in a good way. As long as there are no complaints, there'll be no serious bondage today. Put this blouse and skirt on and these high heels. I know these don't fit or suit you properly, but it's all we've got until we go shopping. Just so you'll know, Victoria has decided you're to be feminized and used in that way from now on."

Feminized, he thought. What did that mean? He looked in the mirror. "Oh," he said. He needed food.

Later and with difficulty, Jason entered the kitchen. His arms and shoulders ached as he teetered in his high heels waiting for acknowledgement. Dougie broke out laughing, Victoria smiled, while Jodi said, "Well, don't you look sweet in your outfit! Is this any better than what you have in your own closet?"

"I don't have any in my own closet ma'am."

"What? You've kept all your fantasies just in your head all these years?" Jodi asked, unconvinced.

"Yes ma'am."

She shook her head. "Well, no wonder you're so fucked up then!" she laughed.

"Jodi, uh ma'am, umm could we talk...alone?" Jason said hesitantly.

Jodi looked surprised and shocked. "No, I don't think so," she said quickly, "We're not done with you yet. You only speak when we ask you a question. That's the new reality. Understood?"

Jason answered like a soldier, keeping his chin up. "Yes ma'am," he said. Weirdly he felt that it was more comfortable that way; he didn't have to think, and in not thinking, he didn't need to be careful what he said. And there was nothing to hide now; he was bare like a charged wire.

He was told to sit while Suzie made some French toast and covered it with maple syrup. He sat down, noting how the clothing slipped and hissed on his now hairless body. He relished every mouthful of food, moving it around in his mouth to reach all his taste buds. How exquisite it tasted, and the coffee...how perfect! No corset, no gag, no arm-binder and no leather posture collar. This was like a dream.

Idol chatting went on around him as he ate, and everything seemed so normal that he smiled. The comfort of the clothing was unbelievable, even with the high heels. It was all relative, he knew, to the severity of his treatment earlier, but he didn't care. Right now he felt euphoric as the carbs and protein invigorated him. He remembered what Victoria had said in that dream (was it a dream?) : knowledge and humility will set you free. Well, he had learned a lot over the past little while, and he sat here, not humiliated, but in humility, simply glad to be out of bondage. Indeed, he did feel free.

Victoria noticed his smile and interrupted his thoughts, "Jason, after breakfast, we'll be taking your measurements for bras, girdles, skirts, dresses, blouses, all that stuff and discussing what size of breast forms to get for you. It turns out that Jodi here has a fondness for dressing men up as women, so she'll take the lead on the shopping. You don't have any work until Monday afternoon, so I'm scheduling you with my corsetiere for tomorrow morning at 9:00, where she'll take your measurements and create some custom corsets for you for delivery in about six weeks. Periodically you'll have to visit her for fittings. At 10:00 we'll go to a transgender store and fit you with a few pairs of high heels and boots, maybe get a purse or two as well. I'll pay for all of it initially and when I get a final tally, I'll let you know what it is and you can bring the money next Friday."

"Umm, what, uh, all this stuff? Uh, yes ma'am," he said, his thoughts ablaze with confusion and wondering how she knew he didn't work tomorrow morning. There were a lot of things he did not know, he realized. And a lot of things she did know.

Hands were all over him after breakfast, tape measurements and discussions ensued, and the atmosphere was one of subdued excitement. Finally Jodi said, "Suzie, could I borrow your computer?"

Suzie led all of them into the study, down the hall toward the kitchen from the bedroom, where she told Jodi to sit while she turned the computer on. Moments later, Jodi was on a site displaying French Maid's fantasy dresses, all frilly and some with crinolines which billowed the skirts out to almost horizontal. Within twenty minutes she had ordered two dresses, one pink with black lacy trim, the other the more traditional black with white lacy trim, complete with frilly bonnets. She turned to Jason and said, "You'll be doing the housework in these, both here and at my place every week. This is going to be so great, isn't it?"

"What? Jodi...I mean, yes ma'am." Maybe this wasn't as wonderful as he had thought. Or maybe he was thinking straighter since being fed, but the commands and plans for him were escalating fast, and he wondered where all this was going. In his mind, he just wanted to be with Jodi, but she was being so distant and hard edged. He had to learn to just do as he was told, but surely there had to be limits, didn't there? Maid's dresses? Even women thought they were silly. So why did he have to wear them?

At noon, Jodi said her goodbyes and thank-yous and left, briefly pausing to kiss Jason on the cheek. "It's been a real pleasure meeting you finally, the real you, the perverted you. I've got a feeling I'm going to be using" (she laughed) , "umm, seeing a lot of you from now on, sissy-boy." And she left, patting him on his girdled derriere as she walked out the door.

Jason was left standing in her pheromone mist, hard under his skirt and girdle, wanting her desperately. She said she would be seeing a lot of him, and no matter what that meant, whether it be in bondage or dressed like this, or both, he looked upon that news as good news.

The rest of the day passed with Jason trying to do the housework without complaints and doing everything that he was told to do. At 5:00, he was told to undress and get back into his chastity device and male clothes and leave, to arrive again on Friday of that week. 

It wasn't until he got home that he realized he still had the anal plug inserted. Many things had become normal and natural to him lately, and if he was totally honest with himself, he was enjoying the master plans laid out for him. In fact he had decided to facilitate his changes, resolving to start doing his anal cleaning on a daily basis, and instead of using a stainless steel plug he would use a silicone one during the days that he was working his cases at the courthouse. He was excited by the prospect of being a proficient lawyer at the same time he had an anal plug massaging his prostate. When he smiled at the Lady Magistrate now, there would be more to it than she would ever know.

The corset measurements were finished on Monday morning by 9:30. It had been a strange and tense experience for him. The proprietor had asked, "So, when will you have your surgery?"

Jason had acted surprised and said, "What? What surgery?"

"You know, SRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery) . How long have you been on hormones?"

"Hormones? Umm..."

Victoria had saved him by saying, "No, he's just a gay transvestite and he wants to dress like a woman."

"Oh, I'm so sorry; I just thought you looked so nice and all and I, well, I thought... It doesn't matter, let's just get the measurements right. If I do this right, you'll have a beautiful figure."

Jason's face had been as red as a beet at that point and Victoria had laughed and said, "He says he's not gay, but let's face it, it's hard to get a date with a woman when you wear women's clothes."

The proprietor smiled and said in agreement, "I bet it is."

Thankfully Victoria took him to an obscure transgender shop where he was fitted with several pairs of high heeled shoes and boots of many styles. He also tried on many bras with various breast inserts made in various ways, the solid silicone to the more liquefied variety. A self-adhesive style at size 36C was settled upon and as he felt its weight in the bra, the straps transferred that weight to his shoulders, giving that odd fantasy of being actually his. He lingered there after Victoria left, surveying the vastness of tricks available to males seeking to be females, making notes in his mind. A week ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead in this place, but now he walked about with his chin up and his shoulders back actively holding clothes out, imagining them on him and moving on. For the first time in his adult life he felt alive and truly excited.

Friday arrived once again. He gave Victoria $1,843.00 and was instructed to go to the ensuite bathroom adjacent to Victoria's bedroom where Suzie sized him up and attached the breast forms to his hairless chest. He held them there self-consciously for a few moments while they "set" and then let them go. The weight shocked him, as they bounced downward and he felt a pull at his upper pectoral muscles. It felt erotic to him but at the same time slightly unpleasant. The bra that he donned now removed the unpleasantness with a degree of support that only a woman would understand. Then he changed into the clothes laid out for him, the Spanx high-waist and long-leg cincher girdle, the hose and panties.

"I know you like the tightness, don't you sweetie? It has the added benefit of eliminating your male bulge. You're going to serve tonight, so put this maid's dress on, and these shoes."

In the end, he was told to put on his latex hood, the one with the gag and breathing tube, and the wig was added to the top of his head. He stared at himself in the mirror and was revolted by what he saw. Sure, the feeling on his skin was sensational, but his look was bizarre and humiliating. For that reason, he was thankful he had the latex hood on.

As he served the female guests throughout the evening, they poked at him and fondled him, laughing at his grotesque fetish attire. Another male was there that night as well and he was dressed entirely in latex from tips of fingers and toes to the top of his head. Underneath, he was given breasts to mimic a woman, but his male bulge was undeniable. His arms were cocooned within that dreaded arm-binder and he stood at various places, not knowing what to do or where to stand. Periodically their eyes met and an understanding blink and nod reflected their slavery to these women.




The Club of Fools Ch. 05



Later, after all the food was consumed and the wine consumption diminished, the latex slave was unzipped to expose his penis and his anal region. Now the women got truly gross and fondled him at will. He was clearly humiliated and kept his chin and eyes lowered, but a coat could have been hung from his penis, he was so hard.

Victoria sat in comfort on the sofa. It was late now and it was time to get to serious play. "Maid," she said to Jason, "Kneel down in front of rubber man and give him a hand-job please, and I want your face to be covered in it."

In his new way of thinking, he had just been told to do something and so he did it. Within minutes the rubber man was spurting all over Jason's face and gasping through his breathing tube. The women cheered and wanted more.

"You want more ladies?" she yelled.

"Yes, more, more, more!"

"Okay, let's have some more entertainment then. Rubber boy, stay where you are. Don't move." He stood there still breathing hard while ejaculate still oozed form the end of his penis and dripped on the floor.

Victoria then led Jason away into the bedroom where she replaced the gag-hood with the open mouth one. When they returned she said, "Maid, clean him up please, and clean the floor too." It was clearly an example of her authority. He hesitated. She said four words, "Bondage corset, two days."

He looked at her and understood the threat, putting rubber boy's penis in his mouth, not only cleaning it up, but making it hard again so that he came again in Jason's mouth. What he wasn't able to swallow, he followed to the floor and mopped it up as well. When he was done he stayed on his knees shamed and disgusted with his position. He licked his lips and said nothing while the girls cheered his behavior and obedience.

Victoria said, "Maid has done her job tonight. She is simply our servant tonight so she can't partake in rubber boy's future treatment so she can just get the scene set up for us. Please come to the dungeon all of you."

Jason knew what to do. He buckled rubber man down on the "fucking bench" so his anal area was stretched and exposed. Then he helped all the women attach their strap-ons, watching them one by one take him. The rubber man became hard once again, so Victoria had one last idea.

"Maid, rubber man is dripping desperately. Put your head in there and take the poor man in your mouth please while we do him again. And I want to have him cum at least twice more. Is that clear?"

The first one was easy, but the second took over half an hour and he was exhausted from the oral effort. Meanwhile, the women dropped away, all of them sated except Victoria, who continued until the rubber man was whimpering through his breathing tube. That sound appeared to satisfy her sadistic lust, so she roughly shoved his anal plug back in and went to the kitchen, leaving both the slaves in their positions of degradation.

"Anyone want some lemon pie and ice wine?" she asked.

Jason, from his position directly under rubber man, could hear his continued whimpering. Misery loving company, he removed himself and went to the front of the "fucking bench" while the women ate desert. The men stared into each other's eyes. Rubber man could not speak because of the gag. Jason could not speak for fear of recognition. They just stared, both out of breath and used up. Jason just shook his head and wondered how it had all come to this. Rubber man closed his eyes and kept them closed.

Despite his arousal, Jason felt ashamed and disgusted with himself. Surely he could be treated a bit better than this. If Jodi had been here tonight, maybe things would have been different.

Over the next six weeks, things were different, and not only did Victoria and Jodi fit him into the female genre, he himself bought some items which now graced his own closet. He felt like he had just discovered America. And now something had changed on the weekends with Victoria; he was always allowed to have an orgasm after he had been used by her for oral service or for pegging by her and her friends. While he was dressed in drag he was fucked like a woman or allowed to masturbate on Victoria's boots and ordered to lick it off. Prior to and during every moment of orgasm he was required to say, "Yes, I'm a woman," or, "please fuck me" etc., or whatever was required by her. If he did not, all activity was stopped and he was stripped naked and told to go home. In fact, it was now compulsory that he dress en femme as soon as he arrived every Friday, and Fridays in his mind could not come soon enough. All he could think about now was being a woman for the weekend and most every night at his own home.

Although all of them were masked and anonymous, including himself, he had met every one of the other slaves during that time, as he seemed to have been chosen out of the entire Club of Fools, to be the one constant slave to serve and wait on everyone else, as if he had some special status. Dressed en femme, he assisted in all scenes for the fetish munches put on by Victoria and sometimes he was instructed to perform oral sex on the other males. He did so reluctantly but without complaint, and was only punished once for not swallowing. The repeat of the arm-binder, bondage corset and neck posture collar bondage scene for a single night ensured that there were no complaints the next time it was asked of him.

Periodically, Victoria would sit him down in front of the computer and secure him so he could not move. Then she would play his rapidly expanding repertoire of incriminating videos over and over so he had to watch, and was reminded of who the video would be sent to if he did not continue in his present mode of service to her. There was no need to; he already knew. And he was hooked. There were two tines to the fork: he was forced to do it, and he had to have it.

At the end of November, Victoria sent Jason an email which he read from his cell phone on the way to the court room. It said, "Your corsets have arrived. Bring your toothbrush and toiletries tomorrow night."

It was cc'd to Jodi, he noted. As he sat in the court room waiting for the magistrate to arrive, he squirmed on top of his anal plug and stared wistfully at the 19th century painting on the wall featuring that corseted woman in an English court. His stomach flipped with butterflies. The bondage corset was one thing, but a full heavy duty feminine corset was another. These were "beasts" that changed a person's shape by sheer force but with a subtle irresistible power imposed by perfect custom fitting which resulted in comfort while compressing the wearer. He had been to three fittings and had a difficult time to hide his erection when trying the items on. He had dreamed of this, and now it was happening.

That night he shaved his entire body as he always did now on Thursday night, and dressed in his favorite bra and girdle with stockings, wig and high heels, finally donning a long tightly fitting gown of stretchy black satiny material. It swished as he walked to the living room with a glass of wine, and he was shortly engrossed in "Say Yes to the Dress", now his favorite show. His mind was buzzed and electrified by the fantasy of it as he painted his toe nails and fingernails for the evening. He wanted desperately to look like one of those women on the show now and he hated that he had to take the nail polish off every morning. He had no idea how he had been transformed; it all felt natural and necessary to him, and like a bursting dam, his water crashed and roared down his valley of destiny with no resistance, nothing morally, nothing psychologically to stop it. 

All those years of pent up desires and now in his slavery, he was free.



The Club of Fools Ch. 06



Author's Notes:

(1) This is fiction. Slavery is illegal.

(2) ONE SHOULD NEVER START A BOOK AT CHAPTER 6.

(3) For those of you unfamiliar with the fantasy, submission and domination are "sibling twins"; they are inseparable.

(4) Eroticism is in the eyes of the beholder. It is between the lines in this chapter as a lead-in to the next one.

*****

Jodi arrived early at Victoria's house for "The Corseting", as the event had been named. Victoria stepped aside to let her in and they embraced, not just as friends now, but to Suzie's nagging chagrin, as love interests. The three of them had spent many nights by now entwined with each other and although Suzie was not less loved by Victoria, she felt a little bit accessorized, as if she was a complement to the ménage a trois, and not the primary and integral part of it. But she recognized the fleeting flights of fancy that Victoria took with other lovers over the years for what they were: diversions, and simply dealt with them as an outcome of their lifestyle. It was what it was. And Victoria never disrespected her, never left her, and never would.

As they seated themselves in the living room, Suzie poured three glasses of white wine which they now clinked together, saying in unison, "Male to female!" And they laughed at the absurdity of it. It had become by now a project, a continuous full-court press, forced upon Jason, and one that he was ill-equipped to fight against, for the absurd but real reason that it was what aroused him. It was what he wanted, at the very same time that it was destroying him. He was becoming what he considered to be female: a submissive, malleable chunk of visually believable female. It was testament to his beliefs, that females should be this stereotype, and in fact was an insult to females in general. For this reason, these women had no qualms about leading him to his desired results. And all they had to do was open the doors while he walked through, doors shutting behind him with permanent locks. The final room would be pink, have lace trim, a mirrored vanity, and a closet with cute oufits. The door beyond would be...

Victoria shook her head from side to side while swallowing after the toast and then added, "I can't believe I've gotten him to this stage already. He seems so totally engaged in this feminization thing that I've even wondered if he's gay, but I know he's not. He's just released, sexually now, so he doesn't feel guilty about his secret desires any more, not with us anyway. And that release has made him an addict. He couldn't have a normal relationship with any woman now; he'd have to be wearing some form of women's clothing just to get hard."

Jodi thought about that for a few moments, appearing grave. "Clever psychology I suppose," she said, "But now that you've fucked him up or saved him (depending on your point of view), what's your exit strategy? Do you keep him as a tranny or do you just set him free with his addictions?"

Victoria looked contemplative, sipping the wine and staring at the coffee table. "Well, that depends. Financially he's worth a great deal of money to me, so why would I release him? On the other hand, it's the training I like. It's like the treehouse I built when I was a kid (I was a tomboy). We had so much fun building it, and then when we finally finished it after many weeks, we climbed up into it and basically said, "Now what?" We never really played in it again."

Jodi looked interested. "Fascinating analogy. But if he's so addicted as you say, wouldn't it be cruel to just leave him by the side of the road, so to speak? He'd be lost."

Victoria got serious. "Yeah, I wrestle with that a bit. I know I'm a bit of a psycho when it comes to men, but I can be sensitive. There are two options: I can carry on with him forever as is, or I can find a home for him, one where he'd be very happy."

"So, which do you favor?"

Seemingly changing the subject, Victoria said, "By the way, have you seen the way he looks at you?"

Jodi smiled and said, "Oh yeah. It's obvious. Sometimes I have a hard time demonstrating my domination over him; I just want to give him a hug like a cute little teddy bear. Why do you ask?"

"Before I answer that, I have to warn you that he NEEDS us to be dominant over him, so you can't lay off or he'll lose interest, at least sexually. Now, why do I ask?" She leaned toward Jodi and said carefully, "Well, because, if you are interested, I'll give him to you. You can have him. I can always snare another hapless pervert. In fact, that's the fun part. Are you interested?"

Jodi was astonished. "What? You'd give him up? For me? Wait, how would that work? Do you mean I'd have the videos and use them on him? Or do you mean he and I just kiss and make up?"

"Whatever you want, I guess. But sweetie, as I said before, you've got a problem here. He NEEDS to be dominated, so just kissing and making up won't work. You have to OWN him, and he has to be aware that you OWN him. Can you manage that? Do you even want that?"

"Vickie," she said slowly, "We've been friends now for quite a while, and I've come to love your weirdness. But are you actually proposing that you would pass him over to me as if he was a commodity?"

Now Victoria smiled coyly and said, "Well, no. I'd sell him to you. I want a new model."

"What? Now this is really over the top, even for you," Jodi said, laughing. When she stopped laughing and realized Victoria had not added anything else, she said, "How much?" And the faces became serious.

Victoria eventually smiled and said, "I thought so. You like him, maybe even love him. But more than that you want him. I'll tell you what, if you reimburse me for all the feminization products, the lingerie, the dresses, shoes, the makeup, you can have him."

Jodi took a sip of wine and then tilted her head saying, "I thought you said he paid for all of that in his weekly visits."

"He did. Hey, what'd you think...that I'd give him to you for nothing? You'd get a husband for $6,000. And you'd have him and his family wealth forever."

Jodi gasped and almost choked on some wine. "Husband! Who said anything about getting married?"

Now Victoria's voice softened. She said, "Look Jodi, I know how much it hurt you when he dumped you in the first place. Now we know WHY he dumped you, don't we? He didn't want you to find out about his fetishes and his submissive feminine side. Now you know. That's why he looks at you the way he does. He adores you. And if you're honest with yourself, that's why you return the looks."

Jodi scowled and said, "What? No, I..." But Victoria interrupted her, saying, "You know it's true. That's why I can't keep him. He's not really mine; he's yours. All you have to do is take him and treat him the way I've been treating him, and he'd be happy, you'd be happy, and I'd be happy." A moment of silence followed and then she added, "And you'd be rich."

Instead of the laughter that Victoria thought would ensue from the last statement, it seemed like it had never been said. Jodi remained serious, and deep in thought. And then she whispered, "Oh my God, you're right! I must confess, I do have feelings for him, but mostly I've kept the anger burning mainly to keep all the momentum of my relationship with you and Suzie. To be honest, I didn't know where this was going, and it was beginning to bother me, to the point that I didn't know if I could continue with these weekend scenes where we dominate and humiliate him."

"Remember what I said," Victoria cautioned, "If you want him you HAVE to continue to dominate him, or he'd be lost. Don't ever forget that with him. It's how his neurosis works. Can you do that?"

Her face went from serious to a full devious smile in an unbroken crescendo. "Of course I can do it. I love it! And I love dressing him up in his feminine clothes too. It makes me wet to think about it. Hmm, I said YOU were weird, didn't I?"

Victoria smiled and said, "You're weird Jodi. And he's weird too. But he fits on your hand like a glove; his fantasies reflect yours in the most exact way that I've ever seen." She reached out and took Jodi's hand and said softly, "And I was kidding about selling him to you. He's yours if you want him."

"I do want him Vickie. I do. I really do."

Victoria smiled and the conspiracy began. "Good. Let's do it then! But let's make one last scene out of him, a send-off scene he'll never forget." Not waiting for any comments, she continued quickly, "Now here's what I suggest. I want to make him believe that I'm selling him, but he won't know to whom. He'll be aghast, and he'll be so aroused by that. So, when we discuss this in front of him, of course he'll be restrained and helpless, and will be until he's delivered to his new owner. I'll tell him that I sold him for $50,000 to some East Indian couple near Vancouver and that his law career is over." Her eyes lit up as ideas flooded her fertile mind.

Jodi squinted her eyes and said, "That sounds crazy."

It was like Jodi didn't say anything. Victoria poured more wine and began to write things down as the ideas came to her. Suzie added the occasional comment. Jodi watched and listened, mesmerized by their vivid imaginations.

Finally Victoria got up and said, "This is going to be the greatest mind-fuck ever! But first things first, do we have a deal?"

Each of them sat back and took a sip of wine. Jodi said, "Deal."

"Good. Then we keep with the plan for this evening, get him all dressed up, maybe use him a bit, then secure him for the night and package him up for delivery tomorrow. Woo-hoo...gonna be a parteee tonight!"

Suzie, always the quiet one, simply smiled and shook her head. It was going to be an interesting weekend, far more interesting than what they had initially planned.



The Club of Fools Ch. 07



Author's Notes as before:

(1) This is fiction;

(2) One should never start a book at chapter 7;

(3) Jason is not being exploited by anyone except himself;

(4) Slavery is illegal. But it can be real. This is just a story;

(5) Do NOT EVER leave anyone in bondage as severe as that depicted herein without supervision;

(6) This story has scenes in it that will be upsetting to most, interesting to some, and erotic to an even fewer number of people. I don't expect many readers.

(7) As usual, no masochists were harmed in the writing of this story, although the author has spent some time in a sleep sack, and it does tend to change you...

*****

Jason rang the doorbell with anticipation and apprehension. Jodi would be here. Victoria or Suzie would lace him up in his female corset for the first time. That's all he knew. How the rest of the weekend unfolded was always a surprise in Victoria's home, so he tried not to think too far ahead. In fact, his life was so focused on his feminization now, there was nothing else in it. His addiction had spread like a cancer so that his brain had become rewired. It was like a fever, and his cheeks even now burned with it.

Victoria had once said that she was like a parasite, and a perfect parasite never destroyed its host, Jason being the host. But now he knew that Victoria was not correct; he was being destroyed bit by bit, or perhaps falling to pieces and being put back together in some new way. Like most addicts, he knew he was addicted, but the next fix was always what he craved; it was all he thought about. And he was at her door for another.

He was getting "looks" in his office and even in the court room, those looks of puzzlement when he forgot what he was going to say to the judge or a witness, those looks of dismay from his law partners at his decreasing billable hours. Judges had pulled him aside and warned him to shape up or he would be reprimanded. None of it mattered any more. The work weeks were but commas between the phrases which made up his life. Friday came, and he lived in a fog of fantasy through the weekend, conditioned into thinking it was all real by Sunday night. 

In short, by most standards he was mentally ill, perhaps insane, on a path to total destruction. And like a program in a computer, his code was being written over by something else, something based upon himself, but new and different. And the truly odd part of all this? He was becoming happy.

His hands shook with anticipation as he rang the doorbell one more time. His penis expanded with futility within the chastity cage, and his anal plug reminded him of his role as submissive to Victoria. She opened the door, smiled and ushered him in.

"Hello ma'am," he said, "Here." And he handed her an envelope which both he and she knew contained the required $1,000.

Jodi stood at Victoria's side, smiling at him. He wanted to touch her. He always did now. Could he? Should he? How would she react? She smiled at him softly. What was that look, he wondered? He didn't dare try to touch her. It was her place to decide that, not his.

"Hi Jod...uh ma'am." His face flamed red like a teenager's on a first date. To his surprise she came to him and gave him a kiss on the mouth and a strong embrace, followed by an unsettling steady stare into his eyes. The blue of her eyes was fluid and alive like staring upward through a hole in a coral reef. Sunshine blazed through it.

She said, "This is going to be quite a time for you, isn't it? Your first custom fitted corset! And we both know how much you like the thought of that." Then she tilted her head slightly and smiled mysteriously, saying, "For that matter, getting you laced up in a corset is going to be juicy for me too."

Jason had automatically started to strip off his male clothes when Jodi interrupted him, "There's no need to strip here today. We want you to come to the dungeon as you are."

As he followed her to the dungeon, Jason was acutely aware that this was the first time in a very long time that he had been allowed past the front door fully clothed as a male. 

It would be his last.

Once in the dungeon, her mystery continued. "Think about the consequences of having a female figure Jason. Once you learn make-up, you could go shopping as a woman, or be a lesbian in bed with another, both laced up in your tight little corsets." Then she changed course. "Wait till you see them. The corsets are magnificent, and given enough time and effort, you should be able to take several inches off your waist."

Then she surprised him by taking off her blouse and skirt, revealing a stunning black contoured corset with garters holding up black stockings in stiletto boots. She spun for him and he saw that the laces on the back were fully closed on her perfect figure. "Yours is the same," she said. And she giggled. Why was she acting like this, he wondered? Something was different. Something was weird. And that almost made him giggle; everything in his life was weird now, weird and wonderful.

Compulsion overwhelmed him and he reflexively reached out to her. She surprised him by not pulling away or slapping his face or hand like she often had in the past. He put his hands on the back of her corset and pulled her in as any man would and said, "Jodi, I want to, you know, I'm...I don't know why I'm stuttering..." He suddenly lost courage and disengaged, pulling away. He fell silent for a moment and then added in a smaller voice, "I wish I knew before what I know now."

In response to his supposed reference to their past relationship, she didn't even blink as she said offhandedly, "I know you do. Too bad you belong to Victoria. You could have belonged to me. Your big mistake I guess. Too much of a coward to tell me about your fetishes."

He pulled even further away from her, realizing that she was on a different plane. He wanted to belong to her, and what confused him the most was that he wanted to belong to her in exactly the same context as with Victoria. He wanted to be owned by her, tethered and bound, both mentally and physically if she desired it. But as he stared at her grinning face he wondered if she was mocking him. Did she simply want him as a toy? Or was there some romantic interest there?

And frankly, did it really matter what he thought or hoped for? He was not in charge.

Victoria interrupted the strange and awkward moment and it confirmed his last thought. She opened the door to the dungeon and said, "Yes, a big mistake. I wonder what you'll transform into over the next few years. It could be anything couldn't it? Maybe a gay hooker to make some more money for me? How about a full time bondage slave for scenes on my website? Your video repertoire is already huge. Imagine the possibilities Mr. Steele!"

Jason's hopes fell and air escaped in a large sigh as he said, "Yes, I suppose so ma'am." The video blackmail secured him as firmly as any physical bondage, and he knew it. The burden of it intrigued him.

"Yes," said Victoria, mocking and wiggling the knife, "I do own you after all. You're like a utility company; you pay dividends and dividends, so you're a valuable asset. Now, Jason, come and get dressed. Time for you to change, and I don't necessarily mean your clothes, but take them off anyway. Your fetish is female domination and wearing women's clothes, so your life's sexual dreams will be realized now to the fullest dimension, won't they? Tonight you get the full treatment, my final gift to you, and tomorrow everything changes."

Jason looked at her, puzzled. He said, "Ma'am?"

She dismissed his question by saying, "You don't need to know." And then she continued with the preparations for him. "Now, I've always believed that a good cross dresser should be able to pass in public. I don't want a guy who looks like a man dressed in drag. With that in mind, we have these corsets which will change your figure. Initially that change will be noticed only when you're actually wearing the corset, but as time goes on, and because you're still young, your actual shape will change and the corset will simply support it and keep it there."

Jason jumped slightly as a strange woman walked out of the shadows of the dungeon. He had not seen her before, and as always when someone new saw him in his submissive role without his latex mask on, he cowered and lowered his head, ashamed and self-conscious.

Victoria stretched out her hand toward the woman as if introducing her on a stage and said, "I'd like you to meet Kwanling. She's a makeup artist who works for movie sets whenever they're filming here. Jason, Jodi...meet Kwanling. That's why you don't have your mask on Jason; she'll do your makeup. Don't worry; she's discreet."

She approached him and said, "Pleased to meet you Jason." Kwanling repeated the gesture with Jodi. She was a tiny little thing, Asian in every detail, black hair, small facial features and a gymnast's figure, even though she was approaching forty. She wore a tight black top and a short flared skirt to help with her lack of waist definition. She had no Asian accent.

"After we get you laced up and dressed Kwan will do your makeup and your fingernails and toenails. After that we can have some wine and a good supper. This will be your first night, your coming out, like a debutante. And your last."

Jason stood nude in front of the three fully dressed women, and he held his hands shyly in front of his genitals, his penis enclosed within the plastic cage, as they walked around him, commenting on his stature. The room felt hot and his cheeks flushed red at the same time his penis tried to expand within its tight confines.

"What do you mean "my last"?" he said.

Again Victoria ignored him as if he was an inanimate post and gestured to Kwanling to continue.

Kwan Ling said, "I see he's all locked up. That's good for a man. Teaches him discipline. Keeps the pecking order intact."

Kwan furrowed her brow in puzzlement as she noticed the stainless steel anal plug handle protruding from him, barely visible between his cheeks. She grasped its handle and at the same time she asked, "What the hell is this?"

"An anal plug. He's been instructed to wear that at all times," Victoria said, "It's a symbol of his submission to me, to us."

"Interesting." Kwan said, "So, he submits to you totally then?"

Jason's head was moving back and forth between the two of them, in full humiliating realization that they were referring to him in this conversation as someone who could not answer for himself. A few short weeks ago, he would have been mortified by this. He stared off to the side, wishing he could just get to the part of the weekend that he loved, serving Victoria and Jodi, and even Suzie, but the agenda was not his. It never was and never would be.

"Yes, it's what really turns him on," Victoria said, "But you know all about that type of relationship, don't you Kwan?" And she smiled with a wink.

"True," Kwan said, "But I have a female; I've never owned a man. They're not worth much in my mind. Dirty habits and such. Constant maintenance I would think. But perhaps with proper training and feminization, maybe...that could make it interesting."

Victoria laughed. "That's why we put heavy demands on him. He has to have an enema every day and stay clean back there in case we feel like using him there. The plug is to remind him of his submission and demonstrate that his penis is now of less importance, his body openings of considerably more importance, much like the way society portrays a woman. And now his feminization will take a huge step forward and he'll be more like a woman anyway. He won't admit it, but that's what he wants, isn't that right Mr. Steele?"

Jason's pride and desires collided and fell in a heap, desires winning. He didn't respond.

Suzie stepped forward with a full support bra. "Here, put this on."

He did as he was told and she placed the breast forms in the cups, marking where they should rest on his chest with a fine marker. "Okay, good. Now take it off."

Once the bra was off she removed the strip and placed the self-adhering silicone breast forms on his shaved chest so the marks aligned. He was told to hold them in place for a few minutes while they became seated and sealed. Then he took his hands away and they fell, bouncing and jiggling realistically. The weight, as usual, was slightly unpleasant but erotic to him, and he hoped that the bra was not far behind in their planning. Kwanling watched, fascinated.

Jodi interrupted the ritual bluntly and with open exasperation, "The corset. I want him in his corset."

Victoria laughed, bending forward slightly, "Jesus Jodi! When I first met you I would never have pictured you wanting a man dressed in a corset! Sometimes you really freak me out. In a good way. Anyway, you're right, let's get started. Jason, put your hands up please while we fasten the corset."

She held up a black under bust corset that was contoured in a feminine shape even before it was wrapped around him. As they did up the front busk, he couldn't stop himself from getting even harder inside the chastity cage, and Victoria batted it playfully. Within seconds he was leaking pre-cum like a faucet leaking water. But his face was red and he was shaking like a leaf with excitement. 

The full wall mirrors in the dungeon reflected his situation in many angles and distances. He could have walked away if he had wanted to, but there were too many reasons why he didn't want to. One was that he knew he would get punished; and another was that he would be told to get dressed and go home without even trying the corset on, the latter the worse of the two, the real punishment. Besides, why would he do that, now that he had learned what a thrill it was to serve the girls and wear all this beautiful clothing, the stuff of his wet dreams?

Suzie took over, the mistress of tight-lacing, as she pulled on the laces at his back, telling him to breathe out, then relax, until it was quite tight on his abdomen and lower ribs. His breathing was moderately confined to his upper chest only, but that was more comfortable at least than his bondage corset of numerous previous torments, which restricted breaths of any kind, high or low.

"There, it's snug. Now Jason I want you to put your hands high on the wall while I tighten it."

"What?" he said in shock, "It isn't tight yet? Sure feels tight."

Suzie looked at him, surprised at his naivety, "Seriously? Of course it isn't! I've got a long way to go baby, but today it won't go as far as tomorrow, and I assume tomorrow won't be as far as Sunday, etc. You get my drift. After a few weeks, you'll get used to your new shape."

Jason was puzzled. "Weeks? What do you mean? I'm only here two days a week. I do have a job you know. I have to be in court on Monday. I can't be wearing something like this. For one thing, the boning must be metal, right? They'd set off the detectors."

"Nice try stud. Although it's not the best, this boning and structure is fibreglass by design. You can wear it 24 hours a day, every day, any place, no problem," Suzie said, giggling.

"I don't understand," Jason said, "I have to shower and shave and all that. Am I missing something here?" 

Suzie turned to Victoria and said, "Didn't you tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Jason said in alarm. Too many secrets.

"Nothing," Victoria said, "There's nothing to tell." The three women looked at each other conspiratorially, and Jason looked around, confused and suspicious.

Suzie put her knee on Jason's back and pulled. Jason winced. He was beginning to have even more difficulty breathing, and that same breathing method of using small puffs came into play, just like when he was enclosed in the bondage corset.

Victoria walked toward him at his side by the wall and as he turned his head toward her she said, "I will tell you this though. You won't be going home for the next week or two or three or four, depending on what it takes to get you trained. You'll be wearing the corset for 23 hours or more a day, every day during that time and from now on, with time off in the morning, only for your enema, shave, and shower. It's part of your regimen as well with the ones who just, umm...uh, never mind."

Jason looked at her, aghast. "I can't do that! I have to go to work! Ma'am."

"What's the difference whether you leave from here or anywhere else?"

"But my suit...my robes...for the court..." he whined as Suzie tied the corset laces off at the small of his back, much smaller now by a spandex mile.

Victoria interrupted him. "Don't worry. We'll all go over to your place sometime this weekend and pick up whatever you need. Relax."

Jason had put his arms at his side and the stiffness of the corset became emphatic on his lower rib cage, but as he looked in the mirror and saw his waist, he realized it was not a "male" waist anymore below the belly button; it was above it where a woman's would be, and his middle abdomen had been squished downward to fill the lower contours of the corset. Breathlessly, he said in a very unladylike fashion, "Holy fuck!" He tried to bend but was confined to swiveling at his hips. The effort made him puff for air even more.

He looked at Victoria in dismay. "Twenty-three hours a day? Like this? I can hardly breathe."

Victoria stared at his erection straining the chastity cage and sneered slightly, shaking her head. "Exactly what you want, isn't it? Oh yes, you want this."

He couldn't answer; he didn't need to.

Victoria remained in front of him while she produced a small key. "This is for your little padlock on your cage. You want me to unlock it?"

This time he could answer. "Sure. Yes ma'am."

When she slid it off his penis, it stood straight up as she grasped it. "Jason, I want this penis to be soft when we put your panty girdle on, so we can stuff it where it can't be seen. And the only way to do that is to make you cum. Masturbate please."

Victoria smiled a deviant smile and continued, "And cum into this cup. We don't want a mess. When you're finished, drink it. All of it. If you don't, if you waste even a tiny bit, you're back in the bondage corset and arm-binder for an indeterminate period. Or I might simply send you home. So, do you want to cum?"

"Oh God yes...please." he sighed, while unconsciously closing his sphincter on the ever present anal plug.

"Good. You're pathetic, pliant like putty, aren't you?" It was a rhetorical question, and she continued, "Now, I want you completely spent. Make yourself cum baby."

He obeyed and closed his eyes. This was going to be at her schedule, not his. That was now clear. Initially he thought it would be impossible to do this in front of all of them, like masturbating in a jar for a medical sperm count, but the humiliation of it as they urged him on was also bizarrely intense and erotic. Within seconds, he knew he was cumming and then he remembered what he had to do afterward. Oddly and predictably, that thought sent him even more quickly over the edge. He thrust his hips forward repeatedly and his breasts bounced with the movement as he struggled to keep the cup over the end of his penis. He moaned and grunted as pulse after pulse of his ejaculate entered it. He had to push his penis down with it in order to hold the flying fluid. And nothing escaped the cup.

As his last throes of ecstasy subsided and he softened, he squeezed the last drops out and into the container. As always, agreeing to this had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it was different; now he eyed the cup, eyed Victoria and then Jodi, and then the cup again. He thought of the excruciating eternity he had spent in the bondage corset and arm-binder and easily made up his mind. He swallowed and swallowed, licking his lips so he didn't miss any. It was the most deliciously degrading moment in his life. 




The Club of Fools Ch. 07



So far.

In the distance he heard Kwanling say, "Eww! I can't believe he just did that!"

He stood there, having been a performer for all the women, and suddenly realized he was on a stage of sorts, and the stage fright hit him. He felt intensely exposed and vulnerable displaying himself to these women while they watched objectively. He shuffled his feet and wished he was somewhere else. Orgasms had a way of dashing fantasies, like water on a fire, and at these times, fetishes became as strange to him as they were to people that did not have them. He smiled self-consciously and then grimaced when he saw himself in the mirror, corseted and with ponderous breasts, while holding his own penis. Gross. These were moments of self-loathing.

Victoria broke the silence. "Well done! Now let's get to the real work, shall we?"

Piece by piece clothing was added. The black hose were attached to the corset garters and a black panty girdle, padded in the hips and derriere, was pulled up and over his softened penis. Suzie unceremoniously washed it, tucked it under his scrotum and pulled the girdle over it. She was sure it wouldn't show. She handed him his bra which he gratefully slipped on, fastening it behind his back and then leaning forward as far as the corset allowed to permit his breasts to fall and settle into the cups, just like a woman would do. The weight was immediately transferred to his shoulders through the straps.

The final pieces were a simple long sleeved white satin blouse which buttoned up just below his cleavage and so that his black bra showed above it. The black skirt that went to mid-thigh was stretchy and tightly fitting and it zipped up the back, snapping nicely into place at his new waist with the contoured figure flattering blouse just long enough to lap down and over it. The silhouette was female, not exaggeratedly feminine, but curvaceous, and clearly not male.

When he put on his stiletto shoes and looked at his image in the multiple mirrors, he was thrilled but terrified. He thought he looked a little bit like a hooker, but he knew there had to be more. His face was male and that embarrassed him.

They had him sit in a chair in a well-lit corner of the dungeon, a place where he didn't have the benefit or fear of the mirror. Kwan went to work. She soothed him by saying he looked beautiful and sexy as she told him to relax while she explained the waxing procedure to be done on his eyebrows.

"Won't that show? I mean, won't everyone notice I did my eyebrows?" he asked with apprehension.

Victoria interrupted, "It might. Probably will actually. They'll be nicely arched and feminine."

"Well, unfortunately I can't do that then," Jason said sadly, "I work in an environment that requires a certain decorum, and that would throw a lot of people off. I...I want to, but I just can't."

Victoria stiffened and said bluntly, "Hmm, really?" Then she turned to Suzie and said, "Okay, Jason doesn't want to play this game. Take his corset off. Jason, you're done for the weekend; you're going home."

Everyone looked at Victoria in shock and disappointment, including Jason. He didn't even know he was bluffing, but she called it anyway.

Jason said, "Wait! Why? Just do everything else except what shows. That's all I ask." He whined. It was pathetic, and even he noticed the way he sounded.

Victoria approached him and whispered into his ear, tickling his fancy, "Think how you'll look Jason. This is your chance. Go for it...and stay. Or don't...and go home." She shrugged, backed off and waited. She was going to play the video blackmail card, but she resisted. It was there, if needed.

Suzie was undoing his bra. She removed it and the weight of his breasts pulled at his upper pectoral muscles once again. Next she untied the corset and started to loosen it.

Jason felt like something had been snatched from him, a dream cut off through waking. "No," he said, "Wait, please! Jesus, I want this, but, oh my God..." He closed his eyes and groaned. "Alright, do it. Just do it for Christ's sake!"

"That's better. You won't regret it. Well, you might, but I don't care. Suzie, do him up again, maybe tighter this time, and Kwan, you can start."

Suzie tugged and pulled the laces until Jason was audibly grunting with the increased compression on his torso. His puffing rate was nearly up to one per second, and only the upper portion of his lungs was functional and getting air. The rest was wasted crushed tissue. When Suzie was finished Kwan continued her preparations, feeling as if she was in the middle of a mild lover's quarrel and wanting to be invisible. After many minutes, a few swipes, some feeble screams, and some plucking, she was done and Jason wanted to look at himself.

"No, not yet Jason. You can see the final product later, okay sweetie?"

Kwan applied gel nails and painted them bright red, and followed by painting his toenails to match. While the nail polish dried, she applied makeup, layer by layer, brush stroke by brush stroke, the shadows to accent his cheek bones and diminish his chin and jaw and Adam's apple, the blush and highlights, the mascara, the eyeliner, eyebrow penciling, the lipstick. She was a painter; he was the canvas.

When the long blond hairpiece was lowered, secured to his head and brushed out, they all stood back and smiled.

A silence descended upon the room as they looked. "Fucking amazing, Kwan," said Suzie, "You are a God damn artiste." And she pronounced it "arteest" to emphasize the mock artistry. She always had a way of trashing a poignant moment.

Jodi and Victoria just stared and smiled, shaking their heads. Jodi went to him and said, "Jason, we can work with this I think. You can look at yourself now." And she helped him off the chair. He turned around to face the large mirrors with his eyes closed, because quite frankly he was full of fear and had low expectations. He opened his eyes.

His painted lips parted in a sensuous gasp. He patted himself in places that made him female, and he posed straight on and to each side, putting his hands on his new waist and padded hips and behind. His fetish response made his penis strain under the girdle, seeking escape and release unseen, compressed to insignificance by the oppressive and exaggerated femininity.

His hands moved to his breasts, wandered there for a bit, then moved to his waist and hips again, then to his feminized loins without a trace of masculinity remaining. "Oh my God!" he said softly, "How did you do this? This is surreal!" He turned around and walked a few paces. "Jesus, I look like a woman! I never expected to...Jesus, I, I can't believe this!" He admired himself for a moment and then went into a mild panic. "Wait, my eyes, my eyebrows...oh my God! Oh Jesus! This is not good, not good at all." He rushed to get a close-up at the mirror and started to mumble, "oh fuck, oh fuck" over and over again. But inside, he was a shifting Rubik's cube of loving this, fearing this, wanting this, and perhaps even needing this. He was a puzzle, even unto himself.

Victoria shrugged at his gender confusion and said, "Yes, the eyebrows are a tipping point aren't they? It's obvious what's been done. Boo-hoo. You've sort of crossed the Rubicon here I guess. Come to think of it you sort of crossed that river a long time ago. Now you've got some explaining to do at work, don't you?" Turning to Kwanling, she said, "Those eyebrows are fabulous Kwan!"

They gushed on about the creation of woman from man for quite some time while Jason blushed invisibly under all the makeup. He held his hands out periodically to admire his new long fingernails, and he marveled at the "weight" of his eyelashes laden with mascara, and the taste of the lipstick. It was a dreamlike and surreal experience that anyone could understand as being so, even if one was not a fetish cross dresser. It was simply a full transformation, male to female, and Jason's fetish impulses were raging inside the layers of feminine attire. After a few moments of clenching his anal plug and trying to flex his penis, he thought he might actually have another orgasm, and his eyes even began to roll back in his head with the sheer ecstasy of it all. But he was interrupted by Kwan leaving and the sharing of good-byes.

Once Victoria walked Kwan to the door, Suzie handed Jason an over-the-shoulder purse and said, "Walk around for us a bit, so you can get used to the high heels and the new you. Make sure you go heel to toe and take small steps, and keep your elbows in at your waist. Try not to strut like a man. When you stand, keep your knees together. When you sit with a dress or skirt on, keep your knees together as well. Think feminine; think gentle, think relaxed, think demure, and let your hips be free. Welcome to the stupid shit a woman has to do to be socially acceptable."

The clothing clung to him where tight and compressive, and slipped where it was loose, creating an odd sensation of bondage combined with a light airy feel as the satin whispered across the corset and bra and girdle. Initially he wobbled in the four-inch heels, but he quickly got the hang of it, the trick being the short steps, but he had the look of someone walking a tightrope, hands and arms elevated to the side for balance. After a few minutes of embarrassment and concentration he got his elbows to rest at his corseted waist while he held his hands either in front of his abdomen or at his side with hands slightly flared. He was told the hand flare looked overly feminine, so he relaxed the wrists while still keeping his elbows in.

"Much better," Jodi said softly, "You look great Jason; you really do. I'd go shopping with you any day. Let's go have some wine and supper okay? I think Suzie has cooked up some spaghetti and meat sauce for us...is that right Suzie?"

She nodded and as she did, Victoria came back into the dungeon and commented, "Yes, let's eat and give you some time to relax in your new skin, so to speak. But we have some changes (big changes) coming later, okay sweetie?"

He assumed they were going to use him later and that was what Jason wanted to hear. He smiled and blushed secretly, saying, "Yes ma'am."

The walk to the dining room seemed longer than it usually was, mainly due to the corset and heels, but the added element of the tight skirt also caused a slight hobbling effect. He was much more accustomed to the flouncy maid's dresses they had insisted he wear over the past several weeks. And when he sat down to eat and drink wine, he found that it was nerve-wracking trying not to let his knees flop outward, allowing his skirt to ride up and expose his panties and girdle. He was also disappointed to find that he could not consume very much food due to the compression of the corset, even though he was hungry. But he relaxed completely by the end of the meal, laughing and gesturing, not necessarily as if he was really a woman, just as a person that was finally free to be himself/herself, not simply a toy for their use tonight. Fantasy metamorphosed and created a new reality for this occasion, and he was high in so many ways, with no real need or use for alcohol.

By the time they all left the table, it was 8:30, and Victoria said to Jason in a fun-loving way, "Time for some Friday fun. I know you haven't with me, but have you ever been put in a sleep sack?"

Jason answered with a puzzled expression, "A sleep sack? Baby clothes? No, why? I'm not into baby clothes. Please say you're not going to dress me up like a baby now." He had visions of having to prance around in diapers for their entertainment for the rest of the evening. He would have done it, but only because they told him to, knowing they would enjoy his humiliation.

Victoria smiled and said, "Okay, I'm not going to dress you up as a baby. It doesn't turn me on as much as feminization. Anyway, this isn't your average sleep sack. It's made of thick leather, zips up and then gets tightened by laces. It goes great with a sensory deprivation hood attached to it, and the whole effect is to make a cocoon out of the wearer. You like bondage, so I know you'll like it. You'll have the experience of your life."

"Whoa! Sounds interesting." He didn't notice the looks of conspiracy between Jodi and Victoria.

When he reached the far corner of the dungeon behind Victoria, she turned to him and said, "I hate to disappoint you, but you have to take all your clothes off except your corset and bra. It gets hot in the sack. You'll notice it's sort of cold in here. Suzie turned the heat down so you won't roast. Now, here it is."

She laid the sack out on the floor and explained how it worked. "You see? It has internal sleeves that are sewn to the inside of the sack. Once you're in, the outside zipper is pulled up, and the laces tightened, there isn't an escape artist in the world that can get out. And here's your hood. It has padding over the mouth, eyes and ears and laces up the back to make it extremely tight. You breathe through the breathing tube attached to the mouth-filling gag here. It's quite extreme. Think you're ready for this?"

Jason smiled at her and said, "Does it matter what I think?"

Victoria grinned. "No, it doesn't. Get undressed."

Jason loved this; it was what he lived for, as pathetic as he knew that was. He quickly shed all his clothing except the corset and bra as instructed and he stood there waiting for further orders, his penis now released from the girdle and free to show its arousal. Suzie harnessed that arousal by easily attaching an external catheter to his exposed and erect penis and a rubber tube went from it to a catheter bag which was taped to his leg.

"Why the catheter? Jeez, how long am I gonna be in this thing?" Jason said, wondering why urination had to be taken care of in such a drastic way.

"You don't need to know, baby," Suzie said, as she pulled on the catheter bag to make sure it was secured properly, "Now get in, and make sure you put your arms in those sleeves."

Jason laid on the floor, wiggled into the bag, and once he had his arms inserted in the fixed sleeves, Suzie added padding "donuts" between his ankle and knee bones and started to zip up the bag. The zipper closed from both the top and bottom so that if the one in control wanted to expose the submissive's genitals, he or she could. Once the two zippers met at his groin, Jason felt slightly compressed. There was no room to wiggle much. But it was exceedingly comfortable, especially when compared to his ordeals in the bondage corset and arm-binder.

"How does that feel my little bondage junkie?" Victoria said, "Try to get out, just for fun."

Jason started to struggle. Even though he had been in severe and painful bondage before, this was different; he could move nothing. His legs were bound together and his arms were bound to his sides. The only movement he could generate was a slight bend to his knees; the rest was bound up solid.

"Jesus, I can't move! And it's comfortable too. This is freaking amazing! What a feeling!" he said, genuinely and naively impressed.

Victoria turned to Jodi and said, "Should we tell him now or when he is delivered?"

Jason's visage of erotic bliss faded with those words. "Delivered? What do you mean: "delivered"?" he said. Then it dawned on him. "Oh shit! Is that why the catheter? Are you taking me somewhere else?"

Jodi ignored him and answered Victoria's question, "I guess we can tell him the basic facts." She paused for effect, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Jason, you've been sold."

Victoria overlooked his incredulous look and said to Suzie, "Okay then. Is the leather discipline helmet ready?"

"Sure is." And she turned it partly inside out to reveal the gag which was to go into his mouth before pulling the rest of it over his head. 

"Okay, now attach the winch to his d-ring at the top of his back and winch him up first."

Jason started to repeat himself, as he said, "Sold? What the hell do you mean by that? What are you doing? What's going on here? What the hell is all this?" He laughed, but it was becoming a nervous titter. Something seemed beyond fantasy here, and it felt different, psychologically different, way different than the usual scenes where he was trussed up to be used by the women, and sometimes men. He felt himself being elevated, and when the winch stopped he was swinging back and forth, an inch or two above the floor. He wriggled feebly like a fish on a hook out of water. His excitement mounted and as gravity settled him into the sack, the tightness of the cocoon increased, rendering him a helpless sensual blob.

"Okay, now we can say our goodbyes before we black out his world with the hood. I'll go first..."

Jason smiled at Victoria's mystery. She was up to something unusual. He didn't believe for a minute that he had really been sold. That was just ridiculous. With an inkling of alarm though, he interrupted her, "Wait, what are you talking about? Are you gonna leave me here for the night or something?"

As usual Victoria ignored him and said, "Jason, the last few weeks and months having you as my sex slave has been a lot of fun, and you've come a long way. And before you go, I have to tell you that I've come to like you. You've become a very useful male, my favorite actually, and I admit I'll miss you, but the offer was too high to refuse. But I know now that you'll be happy anywhere you go because you've finally admitted to yourself and others that you're a fetish and bondage lover, and also very submissive. You don't have to hide any more. Isn't that wonderful?"

Jason stared at her, transfixed, and almost in a whisper, he said, "What's going on? Uh, you've sold me. Right. I don't understand. Why do you really have me in this bag?"

"Yes, I've sold you. You're free. Well, not actually, but free from me anyway. Goodbye sweetie." She kissed him on the lips before she turned to Jodi and said, "Jodi?"

Now Jodi stood in front of him with a Mona Lisa smile on her face, clearly trying to compose her words. "Jason, when we dated you treated me badly, dishonestly, and at the end, rudely, and I can never forgive you for that, but I can move on, especially since Vickie exposed you for what you are, a weak submissive tranny, and made you her slave of sorts. You've paid a huge price, but Vickie's right; you've gained a lot too. Now you're about to move on. I must admit, I'll miss you too; I always have missed you, always will. But we can never be together, can we? Not now. So, anyway, move on and enjoy your new life." She too stepped up and kissed him lingeringly on the lips, but at the same time she pushed hard on an area where his penis should be under the thick leather. He gasped and then moaned in his mental and sexual confusion.

Jodi smiled and said, "Oh my. I see the pervert in you is loving this. I got the right spot I see. Do you want to come Jason?" She giggled.

Jason, muddled and scared as he was, was also very aroused. He couldn't help himself. He said, "Yes, oh God, shit, yes!" His eyes closed as she put pressure on him through the leather and rubbed up and down.

"Jason, oh my poor Jason...your last orgasm with us...you want it, don't you? You're so bound up aren't you, so tight, isn't it? And your breasts are compressed against you aren't they? And your corset, so tight isn't it? Having trouble breathing? Huh? We can do whatever we want to you right now you know. Can't we?"

"Yes ma'am." This was a great game they played with him. He was breathing very hard, attending to fantasy, oblivious to potential reality.

"Do you want to die?"

"What? No ma'am," he whispered, "Please...umm, let me live." He was in full fantasy in this game of theirs. They had the power of life or death over him right now and the power was actually real, absolute and humbling.

"Do you want to live?" She massaged the area where his penis was compressed within his cocoon.




The Club of Fools Ch. 07



"Yes ma'am," he gasped. There was nothing he could do to change any course of action she chose. He just hoped and believed that it ended in his orgasm. Life was so simple at a time like this. 

"You're a gay transvestite aren't you baby? Or maybe you're really a woman, are you?" She was inches from his face and her breath was hot against his lips.

"Yes, oh yes, I'm, I'm a woman, yes ma'am. Please let me come ma'am." His breathing was ragged. His hands tried to flex in futility, flattened unseen within the internal sleeves of the sleep sack.

"You want to come, do you? Will you obey your new owners?"

He gasped for breath and said, "Yes, oh my God yes, but why, what's...? Oh Jesus!" And he let out a long groan followed by a quick yell of release. His hips bucked within the sleep-sack as his ejaculate coursed through the rubber tube toward the catheter bag strapped to his leg. When he was done, Jodi stepped back, mesmerized by his addiction to his plight. She smiled and shook her head.

All Jason could do was try to regain his breath within the corset and sleep sack while Victoria asked Suzie if she had anything to say. She strode up to him and stared into his face briefly before she said abruptly, "Bye-bye. Can't say I'll miss you. Can I put the hood on him now?"

Victoria giggled and said, "Yes, go ahead. So long Jason!"

Jason, clear headed now after his orgasm, panicked for the first time. "What are you people doing? This...you're just messing with me, right? Tell me what you're doing with me!" he yelled. His head moved back and forth avoiding the gag which Suzie was trying to place in his mouth. Finally Victoria grabbed one of his ears and pulled. When his mouth opened with the pain, the gag was pushed in. It was that simple. His last defiance was taken from him so easily.

Suzie pushed it hard against his face while he tried to push it out with his cheeks and tongue. After some time and struggle, he gave up and gasped for air through the breathing tube while the leather hood was being pulled over his head, eliminating all light and most sound. The last external thing he saw or felt was Jodi at his side stroking his cheek gently just before his lights went out. The hood was pulled on and laced up tighter and tighter with each pull of the laces, millimeter by millimeter, so that the thick padding at the mouth, eyes and ears was compressed against his head. Then he heard the distinct sound of a lock snap shut at the back of his neck to secure the hasps over the laces, as if the lock was really necessary.

He swung from the winch hook, subdued, silenced and with no connection to the outside world. His own domain played out only from skin level to some deep internal and seemingly eternal space within his psyche. After a few moments or hours he felt his feet touch the floor as the winch lowered him down once again. When he was laid out on the floor, the thick heavy laces of the sleep-sack compressed him further, from his ankles to the top of his chest, a second corset-like layer that seemed to tighten on his very soul. He laid there like a dropped thought, incorrectly thinking the bondage assemblage was completed. Then he felt something being attached to his neck, stiffening it, making it also helpless. The stiff leather posture collar was wrapped around his neck, pushing his chin up and out while it was cinched up with roller buckles and locked, also behind his neck. The layers of bondage were absolute and impenetrable; essentially he was tightly corseted from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. He had actually dreamed of this once, wondering if such extreme bondage even existed in real life, and the feeling was intensely erotic to him, womb-like, and he would have been in ecstasy, except for the fact that the circumstances had a distinct possibility of being true. He may have indeed been sold. And now he had lots of quiet time to think about that.

Someone rolled him over on his belly and his breathing tube became pinched so he couldn't breathe. He tried to regain his position on his back but was astonished and alarmed to find that he had no means to do that; his immobility was absolute. The lacing of the sleep-sack had been the final nail in his coffin, so to speak. He could not bend or move in any way, from his head to his knees, and below that point there was only slight to moderate flexibility. Just before anoxia and expected death set it he felt himself being winched up again so that his feet left the dungeon floor. He breathed deeply, grateful for the air. Someone pushed him and he swung back and forth, back and forth, like a cocoon in the wind.

Then nothing. Silence except for his own heartbeat and breathing. It felt exquisite, terrifyingly deprived sensually, and despite his recent orgasm, he knew he was hard again. At times like this he felt a bewilderment, a complete lack of understanding of why he liked this. His brain was like a wolf guarding the sheep. Fantasies overruled all natural impulses to resist, and in fact, resistance was now pointless. Whatever had been arranged for him was going to take place. Resistance was futile.

What the hell was happening? Was what they said real? He screamed into his breathing tube for answers, but he knew the noises he made dissipated rapidly. No answers came back to him, probably because the answers would unfold unchallenged anyway. Why explain to a dog the details of an upcoming trip to the vet? It just wasn't necessary. Nobody answered, and he swung, slower and slower until the equilibrium mechanism in his ears could no longer determine whether he was swinging or not. Periodically, he screamed unintelligibly, but it fell on the vastness of unknown space. The women might have been there, but he had no way of knowing. 

Vulnerability set in. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Well, he thought, that wasn't really true; when he had been punished in the bondage corset and arm-binder, he had felt absolute despair because he was in pain and simply had to deal with it. This was different though; he was completely comfortable, and he was thinking too much. Lack of pain allows that.

Then his mind jolted as if was electrically shocked. He understood. He really was being sent to someone else, somewhere else, but maybe just for the night, to be used by someone else. Maybe he really was a slave. Maybe he could be sold. They wouldn't get rid of him like they said...they just wouldn't. Would they? What about his job? What about his career? This was crazy. They wouldn't do that. They just wouldn't do that. This could not be happening. They wouldn't do that. They couldn't do that. 

Then if his jaw had been free, it would have dropped. They could do this. They would do this. And they did. Jesus, oh Jesus, where was he being sent? Who was going to take him? And for what? All these silent questions with no answers. He found himself breathing rapidly and in short breaths. There was no other way to breathe. He was cocooned and was awaiting metamorphosis. How would he emerge? Where? For what purpose? Wait...if he was really a slave, then he knew what he would be doing for his new owners. He had been trained to serve people sexually; that was his true value now; and he stewed with that thought. He would be used as such.

Someone pushed his cocoon again, and he swung helplessly back and forth, around and around. He made grunting sounds through the breathing tube and awaited his fate. He was a slab of sexual beef. His world had been reduced to this.

Please touch me...please touch me...there...please touch me there.



The Club of Fools Ch. 08



The usual Author's Notes as before:

(1) This is fiction;

(2) One should never start a book at chapter 8;

(3) Jason is not being exploited by anyone except himself;

(4) Slavery is illegal. That does not mean it is not real. But this is just a story;

(5) Do NOT EVER leave anyone in bondage as severe as that depicted herein without supervision;

(6) This story has scenes in it that will be upsetting to most, interesting to some, and erotic to an even fewer number of people. I don't expect many readers.

(7) As usual, no masochists were harmed in the writing of this story, although the author has spent some time in a sleep sack and sensory deprivation hood, and it does tend to change you...

*****

Victoria, Suzie, and Jodi sat on the bondage furniture far enough away from Jason that there would be no way he could hear them. They drank wine, enough of it to want more, but not enough to be sorry they had too much. They watched Jason gradually stop swinging and periodically one of them would get up to give him another push. They spoke softly in hushed giggling tones, knowing that Jason was essentially blind, deaf, and dumb within the leather sleep sack which held him like a tight cocoon.

Jodi whispered, "I can't believe we're doing this. I wonder if his fantasies have him high as a kite, or is he terrified? Or maybe it's both. There was a moment there when I wanted to stop it; he looked so freaked." She remembered her electric touch to his cheek before the sensory deprivation hood was pulled over his head.

Victoria patted her knee gently and reassured her, "Jodi, I know these people, people like him. Sure he's scared, but he's loving every second of it. He loves to be controlled, especially when he's dressed in women's clothes. Deep down, he's ashamed of wearing the corset and bra etc., but being in bondage like this removes his choice, so in a way it sets him free to enjoy the feeling of the clothes. He interprets it as being "forced" to wear the clothing, so how could he possibly be responsible for doing it? Weird psychology isn't it?"

Jodi asked, "Not weird actually, once it's explained that way. How do you know all this stuff Vickie?"

"I've made it my business to know it, and much more. You might think I'm cruel, and I am for the most part, but I capitalize on men's sexual inadequacies and shame of their abnormal behavior. Once I have them hooked, they pay me a great deal of money to nurture their fetishes and to be discreet. Eventually though they find that once they come to terms with their fantasies through my constant pressure, they find a type of freedom. And once they find freedom, I set them free as well, if I can find someone to take over my nurturing. So, yes, I use them, but there's a healing here too, and at the end of the day rarely have any of my slaves regretted being my slave."

They sat in silence sipping wine for a few moments. Then Jodi said, "You have six others, right?"

"Yes."

"Ever get tired of this? You know, the domination, the work it takes to dominate?"

"Ha! Never! Each one of my "clients" wants to be my slave, but the illusion is that they don't want it. It's such a fascinating game."

"How many have you had over the years?" Jodi asked, intrigued.

"Hmm, I'd say about twenty."

"Have any of them been unable to break out and get someone else to take care of them?"

Victoria wrinkled her brow in worry. "Just one," she said, "You've seen him. He likes to be an adult baby. Poops in his diapers and everything. Yuck! I can't seem to find anybody to take him on, so I guess he'll be paying me $1,000 a week forever. Not a bad downside I guess. But he's a pain in the ass...high maintenance. I shouldn't have taken him on. But I'd never get rid of him, just leave him high and dry; that'd be cruel. Cross dressers are the best, the easiest to control. Men have a thing about being men, and any suggestion of femininity within them is terrifying to them."

"So, are you always fishing for them?"

"Oh God yes! In fact I have a rubber doll fetishist that I service right now and I'm almost ready to trap him."

Jodi giggled. "What? He likes to play with dolls?"

Victoria said, "Hell no! He IS the doll. He wears a thin latex suit from his ankles to his neck, flesh-tone, with built-in breasts and a device that hides his penis, turning it into a vagina. And he likes to wear freakish female latex masks or hoods which lace up the back of his head, covered by a wig. Very expensive fetish. Oh and he loves bondage and discipline as well. I'll drug him soon and get a full disclosure video. As always, he doesn't understand yet where he's going with his fetish, but he's about to."

"Dangerous game Vickie," Jodi said gravely, "Aren't you afraid it'll all come crashing down on you sometime and you'll go to jail? I mean, one false move and the house of cards would come down, wouldn't it?"

Victoria appeared slightly uncomfortable with the question, but after a pause, she smiled and said, "Unquestionably. I think that's what makes it exciting. I'll let you know a little secret of mine: I actually fantasize about creating slaves out of these guys. Years ago, when I thought I'd make the fantasies a reality, I knew I had to be very careful. After all, I'm quite a sick lady and I should be put away." She winked at Jodi and continued, "I make my stranglehold on my targets absolute though. I do my homework. I find people that WANT to be treated like in their fantasies. I've learned that if they don't want it, it might not work out in my favor, and I might get exposed, even if they themselves get exposed."

"Absolute stranglehold?" Jodi said, puzzled, "How do you know one of them won't overpower you and /or even kill you when you try this on them? I mean, they could you know."

"Jodi, you're not listening! Logically one would think you're right I guess, but it hasn't worked out that way in any of the cases. My website attracts these guys, usually the ones that WANT to be dominated by a strong female. The first thing I have to be sure of is their shame and embarrassment of their fetishes, and I reinforce that to keep them mentally weak and addicted to me for delivering their fantasies. Having someone else know about them besides me (for example, the general public) would be too much to bear. And when I show them the videos I've compiled, I make sure to tell them where the videos are stored. I make that up as I go; sometimes telling them that I've sent copies to all my kinky friends, sometimes saying the videos are on a website that I haven't activated yet. And if anything should happen to me, the videos get "discovered", creating the perfect motive for killing me. And last but not least, I have Dougie. He's bisexual and loves the perks of being my bodyguard."

Suzie stood up suddenly and said, "And I like them too. I'll take care of you to the ends of the earth." Laughing, she said, "New bottle of wine?" She, in contrast to them, was intending to get drunk.

Victoria said thoughtfully, "No, I don't think so. We have some work to do. The baggage over there has to be delivered to its new owner. God, look at him! Isn't that priceless? He can't move a muscle in that bondage. I just love that sleep sack. And that hood...he should be in a state of sensory deprivation delirium by now. He can't move; he can't speak; he can't hear; he can't see; he tastes nothing but his gag; he feels nothing but the overwhelming compression of the corset and the sleep sack. And watch this."

She went to Jason and blocked his breathing tube with her finger for about fifteen seconds. The sleep sack rippled slightly in a convulsion of sorts; there was nothing much else he could do.

"And I control whether he lives or dies even. I know I'm one sick pussycat, but that just makes me hot. And here's the really interesting part: I guarantee you that he's hard as a rock in there. He wants and fears this so badly."

Victoria returned to her seat, leaving Jason hopeful but unfulfilled, and resumed sipping her wine. "I hope you're learning from this Jodi, cuz tomorrow he's yours. And if you don't remind him of his lowly status, you'll lose him. Guilt and shame has to be reinforced and harnessed."

"I think I understand that now," Jodi said thoughtfully, "But I must admit I'm a bit apprehensive; he's high maintenance."

"Sure he is. No doubt about that, but just think of the fantasy value for you. You like to feminize men for some perverted reason. And don't forget one important detail: he's rich; his family's rich."

Jodi smiled, "I know, but how does one reconcile "love" with treating him like this? I may have trouble with that."

"Then you'll lose him. Get this through your head, he wants to be treated this way. He absolutely must be treated this way. You see, once you've tasted the erotica of this lifestyle, you can't go back; there's no reward in going back, just boredom."

Jodi simply said, "Hmm..." And they sat for the next half hour finishing the bottle of wine, saying little, just thinking. It was 9:30 when they went to work.

Jason awoke with a jerk. He was being carried. His head bumped on something, and he felt himself descending rapidly but was caught. He was placed down into some space and his legs were forced to bend slightly in order to fit within it. He heard a thud and felt a sudden pressure change in his ears with the noise. It sounded like a car trunk being closed. He yelled but there was no one to hear its translation through the gag and to the end of the breathing tube. The next indeterminate and seemingly infinite amount of time was spent being jostled and rolled with the movement of the vehicle. Wherever he was being taken, it was a very long way away. But then again, he had lost all means of measuring time; a minute could have been an hour or a day. Fantasies and dreams and reality all merged into one entity; there was no perceptible difference between sleep and wakefulness, and after a while he didn't care, because he couldn't care. With choice removed like this, how could he care? The reality was that he was here, and that was all he had. Perceptions changed. Pragmatism set in like a heavy sea fog.

He awoke again. Had he been asleep? He wasn't sure. Someone was carrying him again. He was put down somewhere and then pushed sideways, probably into something, he thought. He needed to pee, so he did, the warmth of it entering the catheter bag on his leg. He tested his extremities and found that he could feel everything and that he was actually very comfortable, except for the fact that he could not move. He craved that now.

This had to be some sort of dream, a nightmare. He tried to wake up, but the same things kept repeating, like in a dream. It must be, he thought.

Someone stopped his breathing again, and knowing that it would only be temporary, he didn't panic...at first. This time however, it went on and on as he struggled to pull air through the breathing tube, only resulting in a vacuum inside his leather hood as it compressed on his face even further. He screamed from the depths of his lungs to let whoever it was know that he was suffocating, but he knew that very little noise escaped him. His body started to quiver, and just when he thought he would pass out, there was air. He/she had decided to let him live. As he gasped the beautiful air in, the beautiful coolness of it, never getting enough, he clenched the anal plug and remembered. Somehow he had degenerated to this; he was a slave and had no power. He would be used for the amusement of others. But he knew also that it was his reward to serve, his reward to be bound, his reward to be emasculated, feminized, to have all his secret fantasies realized. He understood the paradoxical nature of this; he had been harnessed, and in being harnessed he felt fully compensated by sexual fantasy, in effect set free.

Who was doing this? It had to be Victoria and Jodi; it just had to be. Any other scenario was inconceivable to him. But what if it wasn't them? They had said goodbye. And it had sounded like a sad and sincere goodbye. Where was he? Now he had been left alone again. How long? Thoughts raced around in tight circles within his mind. He heard his own voice, but he hadn't said anything. He knew he had lost touch with reality but there was nothing he could do about it. His thoughts were all he had. He experimented, taking a deep breath. It didn't work; his bondage was too tight and restrictive, but he did feel the increased compression at his chest. He had actually forgotten that he was wearing silicone breast forms pasted to his chest. Then he remembered the corset, its unyielding firmness. He could only feel its restriction, and he wanted to touch it, but even though his arms and hands were squeezed to his side in the arm sleeves, they might as well have been in another room in relation to their usefulness in touching. He chewed on his gag. It seemed to be made of rubber and it filled his mouth like the fat part of a light bulb. He grunted and laughed. Then he peed again. All the comforts of home. He laughed again. He was maintaining some sort of hold on sanity, but it was slippery. He was losing it.

Interesting colors, swirling, merging colors. Was someone pressing on his eye pads? Sort of felt like that. Had to be that. Now he felt pressure on his penis. His breathing tube was plugged. There was no air. Now there was. It was like a whack-a-mole game at a county fair. Sensations popped up and he tried to identify where they were, what they were and what they meant. He moaned and whined incessantly.

There was indeterminate touching at his groin, a feather of a touch here, a tug there, and then he felt cool air only on his penis. Someone was manipulating it. He felt the suction as the external catheter was removed and then felt the coolness of his penis being washed, felt the hotness as it was taken into someone's mouth.

He begged to be allowed to come. Surely they could hear his voice begging. He could hear it. Couldn't they understand? He dreamed his mouth was free of the gag. But no, that wasn't real, was it? Absolute confusion of the senses overwhelmed his mind with imaginings of reality. He tried to voice and bend words around the gag but was reduced to chest-deep grunts. He tried to bring his body up to meet the persistent pleasure, but there was no control, no movement permitted by his cocoon. His grunts diminished to whimpers and squeals as he resigned himself to waiting and hoping.

In giving up, he found peace; his body relaxing as if he was floating in space. He heard a never-ending high pitched squeal or whimper in the middle of his limited awareness, and knew its origin was his own being, but he felt somehow separated from it. Then the feel and the sound of him merged into a pulsating primal shudder which consumed his remaining sentience.

Now! He was past the point of no return as he ejaculated into the mouth, that mouth. Whose mouth, he wondered? His contractions lasted forever and his sphincter squeezed the menace of the anal plug. He heard what he thought was a little girl's squeal. It was him, and suddenly that awareness made him embarrassed. He rested and tried to resume his normal breathing but the breathing tube was never wide enough when he really, really needed air. He sucked in panic.

As he gasped through it, there was periodic restriction, inconsistent pulses of air. It was an odd sensation of not completely closing it off, just a baffle of some sort. Then he tasted it, salty, his own ejaculate. Someone was forcing him to pull it in with his breathing; there was no choice. The tube sputtered and burped with the flow of the fluid until it was all clear and he had swallowed all of it, the delicious air now flowing freely.

Then nothing. He felt the cool air still at his penis and tasted the salty semen in his mouth, and waited. Forever, or a minute. He didn't know.

What followed was an eternity of twisting and gyrating colors and imaginings of things happening, or not. He was a time traveller, where time didn't matter. That was the odd thing about time; when you traveled through it, the measurement of it became less important, although the passing of it did.

Someone was fumbling at the base of his neck. The stiff collar was removed. His head was lifted while the lock was undone at the hasp at the base of his neck. The hood was unlaced and pulled off, the final result being the removal of his mouth gag with a pop. He felt disappointed that the bondage and isolation were over, that he had to adjust to a new reality, again. Leave me alone, he thought. The room was bright, and he was forced to keep his eyes closed even though he desperately wanted to see who was with him, who controlled his existence with such utter completeness. It had to be Victoria; it had to be.

A female voice said, "Her makeup needs some repairs. But she looks quite good actually. She'll do just fine I think."

He didn't recognize the voice. That made him nervous. This new reality wasn't right. He wanted the hood back on.

A second female voice said, "I like the look of her too. She's going to be a great addition."

To his alarm, he didn't recognize that voice either. "Addition. Addition to what?" he said with a croak, "Who are you? Where am I?"

"Hmm, he's conscious. Don't worry yourself over little details Jason. You're part of our stable of slaves. You'll be well taken care of. You're in Vancouver. You're in a cell, and you'll be here for as long as we choose. You don't have to worry anymore; you won't have any changes again for a very, very long time, no new owners, no new homes. My name's Joanie and this is Stephanie. You'll call both of us Mistress. Is that clear?" 

He didn't find a lot of that very reassuring. "What?" He opened one eye suspiciously, "Where's Jodi? Victoria?"

"Victoria doesn't own you anymore. We do. I don't know a Jodi. We bought you for $75,000. That's about $440 a pound, so you're valuable meat. Here, let me put this collar on you so nobody can steal you. You're not going to see the light of day for a very long time, if ever, once this is locked on. Lift your chin."

"What? No! Where's Jodi? You're fucking with me, right? Where's Jodi?" His voice, clearer and stronger now, had raised itself an octave.

The collar was more like a heavy steel clamping device and it was hinged so that when it closed around his neck it rang with a loud clank. Instead of locking it on with a padlock, Joanie used a screwdriver type key to close and secure it. She demonstrated that a thick chain was welded to it, and the other end was welded to a thick d-ring on one of the bars of the cell. The length of the chain was about 20 feet but at the moment his slack was taken up by a diversion of the chain locked to a d-ring which was external to the cell.

"You have a shower and a full bathroom here, a bureau over there with all your girlie wear, and your vanity is right here with all your makeup. From what I understand, you've made the transition; you'll identify as a woman. There were no male clothes supplied so I assume you don't possess any or dress that way anymore. Now for a bit of explanation. I'm a medical doctor and Stephanie is a nurse, and we specialize in the marketing and transition of male slaves. Most people have no idea this market exists, because nobody escapes from it I suppose. But I assure you, it exists, and you're in it."

Jason listened, still bound in the sleep sack, and becoming more and more speechless with horror by the second.

Joanie continued, "Now, I assume Victoria told you what we'll be using you for, but I'll just confirm it. We have an international clientele that pays huge money to use people like you. You'll provide your body and service to each of them in any way he or she wants. Condoms will always be used. All your service will occur in this room, this dungeon. You will never leave this dungeon except in special cases where you'll be enclosed in portable cells for display at certain fetish parties. You'll be gagged, and possibly drugged, during those instances. In return, we'll feed you and you'll receive a new outfit to wear almost every week, lots of new corsets and shoes. Once the hormones have taken full effect and your breasts are developed, you'll get breast implants to maximize your femininity. You'll continue to have a penis. After all, what's a trannie without a penis, right?"




The Club of Fools Ch. 08



Jason closed his gaping jaw and found his voice. "What? Jesus, this is NOT happening. No way...this can't...umm, no. Wait a minute; there's been a misunderstanding, I...? What do you mean, transition?"

Stephanie approached him for the first time. She was actually dressed in white like a nurse and she held a large syringe in her right hand. She said, "Transition...you know, transgender. We bought you to be a trannie prostitute. There's a high demand for that around the world. The hormones start now. In a few months, you'll be unrecognizable as a male. Then, and only then, will we even consider letting you leave this cell. Now, keep your head still. This will feel like a bee sting."

She bent over him. That's when he felt the needle enter his neck and the hot flash of hormone break loose into his male body, raiding the maleness, raping and pillaging it all. He screamed but kept his head still. His body however convulsed in desperation but there was no escape from the sleep sack.

"This, this...is not...real. This, oh Jesus...this can't...be...it's not real." He closed his eyes and expected that when he opened them, a different scene would present itself. Joanie and Stephanie were still there, looking at him strangely.

"Noo!" he screamed.

"Jason, please be quiet, or we'll have to gag you again. Is that what you want? Just get hold of yourself and understand that there's no escape. You might as well relax and enjoy the transition."

"No," he gasped, "What the hell is going on here? I'm Jason Steele. I'm a lawyer. I can't be taking female hormones. This is a nightmare! No, it's a trick, right? Please say it's a trick. Please." He was almost in tears.

Joanie laid her hand on his chest and reassured him, "No, it's no trick. I know it's hard to understand, you know, the first time you're sold, but I paid a lot of money for you and I have plans for you. By the way, you're not a lawyer any more. In fact, you're officially missing. Soon, you'll be presumed dead. And that won't really matter, because that will be true, won't it? The hormones will change you; your body will change; your breasts will grow, and your hips will get larger. Your body hair will stop growing, and for the first few months you'll become very emotional, crying a lot, but that's normal."

"Normal?" Jason said, exasperated. "Nothing about this is normal!" He tried to squirm, but only lumps appeared in the sleep sack where his elbows or hands or knees pressured it. He stopped, out of breath because of the corset's constriction underneath it all.

He continued, "You know of course, that if what you're saying is true, this is way past any of my fantasies, and I have never, ever consented to this. It's against the law, and you'll go to jail for a very long time when I get out of here. And I WILL get out, you know. You can't keep me chained forever."

Joanie, clearly the dominant one of the two, smiled and said, "Well, actually I can. There are many ways. First off, you may not notice, but your chain is shortened at the moment because one of the links is locked to another d-ring outside your cell. Even if you were out of your sack right now, you'd be secured to your spot. When we leave you, we'll unlock that second lock so you can roam freely in your cell, still tethered within your cell. When we return, we'll secure that second lock so we can enter your cell safely and administer whatever we want to administer."

"That's just stupid," Jason said, "I wouldn't let you lock it up again." He smiled in his small victory.

Joanie shrugged and said, "No problem. Then you don't eat. Your choice. But, considering my investment in you, there will be consequences. See those guns on the wall over there? Tranquilizer guns. Wake up to severe bondage. You get my meaning?"

He glanced at the wall. There were indeed two rifles there. He looked back at Joanie in dismay. They would tranquilize him like an animal at a zoo?

While he contemplated that, Joanie nodded to Stephanie and said, "Okay, get him out of this sack."

The slow process of his release from the cocoon felt like he was being allowed to expand. Degree by degree, the tightness diminished until he laid there unzipped but needing help removing his sweaty arms from the internal sleeves. They felt strange, stiff, and useless. He was told to stand up while the corset and bra were removed. The steel collar was heavy at the base of his neck, and when the bra was removed, his breasts flopped down slightly, a weight transition to his chest. 

He thought of escape, but the reality of such an attempt would only be that he had overcome the women or just one of them, but was still chained by the neck. What good would that do? And he felt so weakened at the moment. It reminded him of the movie "Finding Nemo" when the fish escaped the dentist's crazed daughter, only to find themselves bobbing in the sea inside sealed plastic bags, saying, "Now what?"

Joanie said, "Victoria told us the breasts can last a few days between reapplying them, so leave them alone. We'll have to endure the fake ones for a while until the hormones take effect and you get your breast implants to augment the small breasts you'll grow naturally. Jason, your enema equipment is in your bathroom. Please remove your anal plug, do your enema, re-insert the plug and have a shower. Shave your body too please. And do your makeup. In other words just resume your regular routines. Study your surroundings; this is your only view for a very, very long time. We'll be back later."

Jason closed his eyes as they locked the cell door. Then he felt a slight tug on his neck chain as the secondary lock outside the cell was disengaged, allowing him the freedom of his cell. They left the large room, slamming the considerable weight of the door with a resounding thud. The room was much larger than his cell, and as he surveyed it for the first time, he realized it was a BDSM dungeon. There were no windows, and the walls were concrete, softened with its bright red paint and numerous heavy curtains and mirrors. Various pieces of bondage furniture adorned the area, as well as numerous hoods, muzzles, straightjackets, whips and floggers. Mechanical winches were along the walls and their cables went through numerous pulleys on the ceiling which he noted was also made of concrete. The curtains gave the room a strange and eerie silence, a deadening of all sound, like a bomb shelter.

This was real. Somehow, this was real. He had been sold. He had been injected with a first dose of female hormones, and he was chained. This felt like a cheap transsexual fantasy novel, one where a guy who had no urge to be a woman, was forcibly and irreversibly turned into one. As he moved into the bath area, his chain rattled on the floor. This was crazy, he thought, but it was real. That was the problem; the craziness was that it was real.

Timing was everything, he thought. He would escape this, but now was not the time. There would be an opening; he didn't know when, but there would be a time. There had to be a time.

He pulled his anal plug out and washed it thoroughly, noting how empty he felt now when the plug was out; it seemed to be important somehow; it filled him up both emotionally and physically. He gave himself an enema as instructed and waited for the effects before expelling. He did it again and later stepped into the shower where he soaped himself up and reinserted the plug. Without even thinking, he shaved his underarms, arms, and legs, like he had done daily for the past few weeks. The water thundered down on his breasts, and he stood staring down at them, mesmerized by the bouncing water drops. When he finished the shower, he toweled off and went to one of the bureaus where he found a pair of panties to wear so he could sit at the vanity hygienically. His face was strange to him, with arched feminine eyebrows, and obviously waterproof mascara which had lengthened his eyelashes to abnormal dimensions. He could have sworn that the hormones were working already, as his chin seemed narrower, and his skin felt and looked softer, but he knew that was impossible.

Oh my God, he thought; he was fantasizing that. He shuddered. If he was going to escape, he had to think in other ways; he couldn't be liking this; he just could not be liking this.

Testing his bondage, he grabbed his collar and chain, pulling on the chain so that it was taut on the d-ring on the bar of the cell. He pulled hard; he yanked hard again, and he caught a glance of himself in the mirror once more. There was no escape. He was locked to a d-ring within a locked jail cell in some unknown address in a strange city with two women who claimed to own him. He was finally reconciled to the fact that this was real. Was this how people mysteriously disappeared, he wondered? No trace of foul play, just a missing person who eventually became "presumed dead"? And could they actually change his hormonal makeup over time that he would grow breasts, lose his body hair, all that stuff?

His penis twitched to life again with that thought. Nothing to fear except fear itself. But in this case, there was nothing to fear except fantasy. He quivered and tried to think of something else.

He sighed and tried to do his makeup, failing miserably, so he sat on the bed and waited. He was going to have to get used to waiting, he realized. For a very long time. His breasts weighed heavily on his chest, both physically and symbolically, and to reduce the strain on his pectoral area he went to the bureau again to find a bra. 

He could have ripped the breasts off in a more believable protest to the situation he was in, but instead he donned the bra, fastened it behind his back, and leaned forward to adjust himself in the cups. He was led by his own fantasies, like he had a ring through his nose. It was a pragmatic response to his secret desires. It never occurred to him that his addiction to this was the reason he was here.

He laid on the bed, comfortable in his panties and bra, and slept. This time he knew he was sleeping, in contrast to the la-la land of his sensory deprivation. 

Over an exhausting period of time, the collar at his neck grew weightless, the chain all the freedom he needed. The injections continued. Every time he saw the women, he was injected again. He didn't need to shave any longer. Then the soreness started as his breasts grew. His skin became soft and his hair was long and they styled it for him. He never found that moment when he could make his escape. Then with a horror, he realized something fundamental to his psychology.

He didn't want to escape.

He awoke in absolute blackness. What an odd dream that was. Nothing seemed real to him any longer. He felt the steel collar at his neck and panicked, but could not move in the darkness for fear of falling and hurting himself. Feeling his breasts, he calmed himself.

Odd, he thought. Strange thoughts and feelings he was having. He slept again.

Jason awoke bathed in bright light and he squinted in it, sitting up abruptly on the bed. Before he could react further, he felt someone pull his chain so hard that he had to follow, off balance and awkward. When he regained his senses, it was too late; the secondary lock had been secured and his mobility had been reduced to almost zero.

Just then two other females entered the cell. He hadn't seen them before. Each of them had tight latex full hood masks on and they stood staring at him with their hands on their hips, fully corseted in black, and wearing stiletto boots laced up past the knee, a dominatrix fantasy straight out of an erotic novel. 

One of the women caused his heart to race. There was an aura to her, or was it the smell of the leather corsets, or those eyes, he thought, so deep, so beautiful...

So familiar.

Jodi spoke for the first time. "Quite a mind fuck, huh?" 

Her voice was light and airy, not ominous and sinister like his new owners. He was confused. Dreaming again, he thought.

But after a few moments of focus, Jason's face became a dynamic map of emotions as his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide, first with astonishment, then with relief. "Oh my God," he said, "I've been fucked over pretty good, haven't I? Are you saying I haven't been sold then? Please say that's so."

Jodi measured his emotions and then answered, "Well, technically you haven't been sold."

"Thank God! Wait, what do you mean by that? Please...I've had enough shocks lately."

"Well, the good news is that Joanie and Stephanie don't own you; they're friends of Victoria's...good actresses too, don't you think?"

Jason looked puzzled. "Okay. There's bad news?"

Jodi smiled and said, "Well, you've sort of, like, been given to somebody else."

Jason looked at Victoria and said, "Given away? What's going on here?" His annoyance was obvious.

"To me," Jodi added, "I own you now."

Jason was tired. Fatigue, stress, and reality dulled the blade of fantasy. "You? You mean... Wait, I'm confused here. And you keep talking about ownership. Look, I know I'm submissive and all that, but this mind-fuck (as you called it) sort of woke me up to something. I realize you must think I'm really stupid for letting this happen to me, but you can't "own" someone. Period. It's a fantasy to some, but reality is quite different, believe me. I know that now. I don't "belong" to anybody."

Jodi stepped toward him so that her face was inches from his. She said gently, but firmly, "Actually, yes, you do. You belong to me. I own you. And I intend to make it permanent."

Jason risked punishment and lost his temper. "Okay, you know I enjoy these fetishes of mine, and I like to be forced to do things sexually. We both get that. It's a "given". But this mind-fuck has made me a little short-tempered, you know? You don't "own" me, okay? Fuck you! Look, I'm feeling a bit shaky right now. Get me out of this fucking collar, give me my clothes, and let me get the fuck out of here."

Jodi was impressed. He was a man after all. He was risking losing all the realization of his fantasies and he was prepared to go back to normality, sweet vanilla, no fudge. This made it more fun. She smirked, knowing she still held the hammer, and simply said, "No."

She had called his bluff. Then she said, "Put this corset on. I'll tighten it for you." She held it out for him. It was a thing of beauty, red with black lace, and he reached for it out of fantasy rather than rebellion. He wrapped it around his waist and fastened the busk while the laces were snugged up from behind by Jodi. After a few minutes of pulling and tugging, he was transformed once again, breathless and high on fantasy once again. He felt ashamed that he succumbed so easily. Jodi merely smiled.

Now what, he thought? He continued to feign anger. "Jodi, you don't understand; this has to stop. Now."

"No, I understand perfectly. It's you that doesn't understand. You've been on a journey of increasing awareness over the past few weeks and you've grown to understand yourself and accept yourself as who you are. You can't go back and you know it. And you also know you're not in control; your fantasies are...and I am your fantasy." She walked toward him, ever closer, until her face was inches in front of his. With confidence and firmness, she whispered, "You won't be freed. You can't even free yourself psychologically." 

He smelled her, the leather and perfume and the pheromones converging in front of him like a conquering army. Transfixed, he leaned his head forward to touch his lips on hers, but the chain and collar held him back. The clank of the chain seemed to wake him up. "Jodi!" he yelled, exasperated, "For fuck's sake, stop this!"

She held her ground and stared him directly in the eye. "I want to marry you," she said, "I want to own you. In owning you I will love you. I'm making ownership of Jason Steele a permanent thing."

If there was ever a statement that demonstrated "take the wind out of your sails", this was it. Jason recoiled in shock and squinted as if trying to calculate a difficult math equation. Many moments passed and there was silence in the cell. He glanced at the two of them, facial expressions blanked by the latex masks, with only their eyes flashing the truth of the situation. 

"You, you want to get, to get married? To, to me? What? Why?" he stuttered.

He softened and said, "Jodi, look at me; you could have anyone you want. I'm a submissive cross dresser who likes being fucked in the ass. I've completely fallen apart. I've had female hormones injected for Christ's sake! You don't want me."

Jodi gave her best impression of Mona Lisa and said with amusement, "Saline water, not hormones. Not yet anyway. That was a mind-fuck; this is real. And I'm a dominant woman who likes to feminize men and fuck them in the ass. And even though you seem to think you've fallen apart, have you? Have you really? Your life was lies and secrets before, and now ask yourself these questions: were you happy then? Are you happy now?"

Jason's face became chameleon-like, not in color, but in changing expressions, as he struggled with the questions. "Jesus Christ!" he mumbled, "Oh fuck!" Even though it wasn't apparent to those present, it became clear in his mind suddenly that he was happy; he needed this, the adventure of it, the uncertainty of it, the sheer outrageousness of it. He needed to be owned by this woman. He had to have it.

"I'm so confused right now, I can't answer..., jeez, I don't know. I can't answer those questions right now," he said.

"You just did. And you know it," Jodi said, "Think about it while you put these on." She handed him a pair of sheer red hose which he pulled up over his shaved legs and attached to the corset garters. High-heeled sandal shoes were laid in front of him, which he also did up, with straps buckled around his ankles.

"Oh my God," he said, "I fucking get it. There isn't any way...is there? Oh my God!"

Jason's thoughts began to galvanize him now, after the initial shock of Jodi's proclamation of marriage. "So, let me get this straight," he said, glancing at Victoria, "Victoria has "given" me to you. My God, okay, I can't believe I'm saying this...Jesus...but I've sort of, you know, been fantasizing that you owned me. But that's just fantasy, right? Fantasy in this case never becomes real. It can't." He paused for a few moments and then added, "I'm totally fucked, aren't I? And you know why I'm fucked? Because I've never been so turned on in all my life...that's why." He paused again and as an afterthought, "What about the videos?"

Victoria piped up, "I'll still have them. Insurance."

"Insurance? Why? I thought I "belonged" to Jodi now."

Jodi explained, "Well, there's a catch. You see, insurance is money, and there's money involved. There won't be a pre-nup' agreement. I'll be part of your family and entitled to what I need, half of your trust fund, all that stuff, if you choose to divorce me. Mind you, with all your fantasies realized, why would you want to leave me anyway? You do understand, don't you?"

"I'm beginning to," he said slowly. Certain videos were on his mind. He could have sworn his corset tightened.

"Okay then. Jason, from what Vickie tells me, your peripheral fantasies include being forced to participate in your prime fantasies. So, in line with that, I'm not asking; I'm telling you what's going to happen. I WILL marry you and you WILL promise obey me until death do we part. In return I promise to love you, dominate you, bind you, feminize you, and treat you as you would want to be treated for the rest of your life. You see? All your fantasies mesh with mine. It's a perfect union."

Jason said thoughtfully, "I see." His eyes softened and glazed, almost with tears as he bowed his head downward in submission and whispered, "I'm okay with that Jodi. I know I'm crazy, but I'm okay with that."




The Club of Fools Ch. 08



The wording had been expressed. They stared into each other's eyes, smiled, and then melted into one another, their breasts compressed between them as their tongues sought each other out. There was no one in the dungeon but the two of them, or so it seemed, as they merged in the commitment to each other. It was bizarre, and to any "vanilla" person, ridiculous, but it was real to them nonetheless. Each of them expressed what they needed, and each of them expressed what they could give. And it was perfect. For them.

They broke free and looked around sheepishly with flushed cheeks. Victoria and Suzie were both smiling, Suzie, of all people, with tracks of tears on her cheeks. Joanie and Stephanie looked ill at ease, wondering if they should even be part of such an intimate scene.

Victoria spoke first. "Well, I thought I'd seen everything, but this takes the cake. You know you're both nuts don't you? And I'm crazy for believing what I'm seeing and hearing. You two are meant for each other. Nobody could make this up. Even I couldn't have ever pictured this being a real happening!"

Jodi said, "A few months ago, I couldn't have pictured it either. You made it happen Vickie, and I thank you for that. Now, would you all mind if we had a bit of privacy?"

Soon it was just the two of them. Jodi reached out and touched Jason's face, stroking it lovingly. "You're mine," she whispered, "Now make me yours."

She pulled him down on the floor, his neck pulling on the chain so that it was taut. She laid beside him and they explored each other, Jason for the first time feeling free to touch her curves, her breasts pushing out above her corset, the soft skin of her legs below her vagina. She gasped when he touched her higher, and her legs spread, inviting him farther.

There was no talking, just an exchange of need and want. Jodi caressed his now hairless skin, groomed to femininity, and found his anal plug, pushing it in and out, relentlessly massaging his prostate. She touched his breasts, hot like his own skin, and she wished they were real, making a mental note that they should be real at some time in the future. But that fell away in fantasy as it all became very real in the moment.

He was ready, very ready, and she pulled him on top of her, his chain making small clinking sounds on the floor and on his steel collar. Their corsets slipped over one another, and their breasts pressed each other flat as he entered her, slowly at first, just the tip, teasing, probing, wet and warm. Hungrily, she thrust herself upward and took him deeper, and reflexively he pushed at the same time. The feeling was ecstasy and they held each other in that deep penetration for a long time while she looked up at him with lips parted and her eyes half open. Their lips met in a smearing of each other's lipstick, and their tongues probed deeply.

Despite his femininity, he had that man part that drove her crazy. The rhythm established itself as a slow and steady rise and fall, their breasts touching with each cycle, and with increasing frequency, that "just right" feeling caused her to gasp or moan. She grasped his steel collar, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps deliberately, in the reality or fantasy of ownership. It didn't matter what it was.

Jason was lost in the ultimate realization of his feminization fantasy, dressed in a corset and with real feeling breasts jiggling from his chest. The anal plug seemed to have a life of its own as his sphincter muscles clenched and released, and his breathing was a succession of gasps to match Jodi's. In all his training episodes with Victoria, he had never once been allowed to penetrate a woman; he was always the one penetrated, and he felt himself approach orgasm.

Jodi felt it; that trace of increased desperation to release, that slightly greater rigidity of body and penis, and she gasped, "Don't come. I forbid you to come. I'll tell you when...I'll tell you...yes, yes..."

It was like a switch. She told him not to come, so he didn't. His job was to please her, and if she was gracious enough to allow it, he could come too, but he had been trained that his orgasm was not necessarily a "given" event. So he thrust into her, watching her face, adjusting as needed until she started to moan, then softly screaming, she yelled out, "Now! Come now!"

And he did, both of them writhing and beating into each other until they went rigid, thrust to the hilt with the last throes of frenzy. Then their bodies went slack and merged with the floor, spent and sweating, Jason's chain lying on the floor like a sated snake. As they each regained their breath, he remained within her, softened but still large, and occasionally he twitched with hints of more. He wanted more.

"Wow!" Jodi whispered, "Just...wow. You were a good girl, very good. Now I get to screw you. Get out and get on your back with your knees up while I get ready."

He watched her as she strapped the device on. It was black and it was huge, and he stared, mesmerized, as she applied copious amounts of lubricant. It bounced as she approached him and grasped his anal plug, pulling it out briefly and then pushing it back in, so that he would know and understand what he wanted and needed. He got the message. When she pulled it out the final time, she placed it aside and pushed the tip of her phallus into him while staring into his eyes. Her dominance was inescapable as she pushed into him.

With her hands on his breasts for balance she began to thrust in the same rhythm that he had just demonstrated on her. The psychological dominance aroused her more than any physical stimulation could, and he felt it too, wanting her weight upon him, wanting to be impaled and pinned to the floor. Their eyes never left each other as the opposite fantasies melded into each other like a hand in a glove, and she began to slowly increase the tempo until he felt like he was being pounded down and split apart. The assault on his prostate made him hard again and he waited pleadingly for Jodi to reach for him, but it would never happen. This merging of bodies was for other reasons, known only to her. She gasped and then screamed out, once, then a lull, twice, and finally with a low guttural moan she collapsed upon him, spent, their corsets rough against each other, eroticism disappearing, hissing like drops of water in a hot frying pan.

Jason desperately wanted to come and he felt unfulfilled. He reached for his penis to help himself, but Jodi slapped his hand away and said sharply, "No! I always say when and how."

He obeyed, feeling strangely satisfied that he pleased her in his submission to her. She stayed inside him for a long time while she stroked his hair, getting long now and ready for styling. He, in turn, simply rubbed his hands lightly up and down her tightly laced back. Her nylon encased legs whispered across his own.

Finally the silence was broken. "So," she said softly, "Still want me to marry you?"

"Oh my God yes. More than anything in the world."

"Me too." And they snuggled like normal lovers. Just the psychological and physical accoutrements were different. It was the first time for either of them that they felt no guilt, no shame in their fantasies, only the realization that they had each found their place, each other, and to hell with the vanilla torpedoes. That world was somewhere else, bridges burned and destroyed far behind them. They could only look forward...with each other.

*****

Note to reader: more to follow if you wish. I will rely on comments.



The Club of Fools Ch. 09



Author's Notes:

(1) This is fiction, just a story;

(2) One should never start a book at chapter 9. This story as a whole is way longer than I anticipated when I started, too long for those who hate it, not long enough for those who like it...apologies to the latter group;

(3) Jason is not being exploited by anyone except himself, and shouldn't we all exploit ourselves?

(4) Slavery is illegal. That does not mean it is not real;

(5) This chapter flies through time, and is not as erotic as many would like, but it is necessary to the final results of the story. As usual, I don't expect many readers.

*****

Jason never moved back into his own house. Following his "mind-fuck" he lived alternately at Victoria's and Jodi's houses. He still had to be constantly trained and disciplined, so the dungeon at Victoria's place was put to good use whenever he failed to graduate in his feminization at Jodi's place. It was not a forced process; everything that happened, Jason wanted to happen. To be clear, he was strange that way, as many are. The psychological feedback molded him like clay and he took to his new name chosen by Jodi, Janice, and he came to automatically answer to it. The corseting was constant and it came to symbolize his narrowing choices in life as the corset became tighter and tighter. There was a maximum of one hour a day free of the tight-lacing (and most often less than half an hour), during which he performed his enema, shaved his body, and showered. His corseted waist over the next few months decreased by three inches, and with some cleverly placed padding in some of his underwear at his hips and derriere, he had a body most women would die for. And his hair, now long, was styled wavy and bleached blond with darker highlights. It cascaded to his lower neck and tickled his back when he went strapless in some of his gowns. His fingernails also became his own, growing out nicely under the gel nails he had been given initially, the gel no longer needed.

Jodi had been administering a light but constant regimen of female training, some subtle, some of it by seemingly blunt trauma, but he changed, slowly and surely, his maleness in full withdrawal. Once, he was tested. He didn't know he was, but one evening at Victoria's place, he was told that he could have another woman, a night of "stress-less' sex, no obligations of bondage or service to a dominant female. He was excited by this, and he waited in the dungeon, nude, for the first time in many weeks free of feminine undergarments. Two stunning women entered as he was watching TV, and offered themselves to him. Their clothing was plain, feminine but normal, and as they removed it, instead of becoming aroused, he became agitated and after some time he tried to remove himself. When one of them put on a corset, told him to put a corset on as well, and threatened to fuck him with a strap-on, he suddenly became very aroused.

His sexual conditioning was now complete; he was not aroused in a normal way any longer, and he never could be again. After the experiment, the outcome was explained to him, and he nodded silently. There was no turning back, and in fact, there was some comfort for him in having this understanding. His sexual confusion became less of an issue. He knew what he liked, could respond to nothing else, and his sexual preferences were being presented to him on a regular basis like a continuous supply of oxycodone or morphine.

The first week after he had his eyebrows done on his "mind-fuck" weekend, there had been some awkward moments in the courtroom. At one point in the middle of a trial, while an exhibit was being set up and there was time to kill, the judge, a kindly senior man but with conservative viewpoints, called him to the bench.

"Mr. Steele," he said, "You look different. What is it? It's your eyebrows. Is it your eyebrows?"

Jason had squirmed and turned red. The fact that he was tightly laced in a corset, was wearing nylon hose under his clothing, and was plugged with an anal plug made it much more traumatic. But he thrived on that now and found it all strangely erotic nonetheless. "Yes, Your Honor," he said, "They were plucked."

The judge stared at him and said gruffly, "Why? You look like a woman. I find that disconcerting. I suppose you're wearing women's underwear too?"

Jason's heart skipped a beat but he found a way to use the last comment to his advantage. "Yes Your Honor, I am." And he winked and smiled.

The judge tilted his head, slightly shocked, and then thinking that was a joke, smiled with amusement and said, "Alright then, let's get back to work, shall we?"

The following week Jason slept in one morning. Being late for the morning briefing in the board room of his law firm was frowned upon, so he prepared for his day as usual, but with a haste uncharacteristic of him, doing his enema, showering, body shaving etc. He arrived at the meeting just as the senior partner entered, and he had to sit down in the least wanted seat, next to him. As Jason laid out his notes and papers however, silence descended upon the room as everyone in turn glanced at Jason awkwardly and then turned away with barely concealed smiles. Jason's hands were on the table, palm-down in front of him and there they were: excessively long bright red nails, all glossy and shining in the unforgiving board room light. 

For many weeks now he had been applying nail polish in the evenings and removing it before he went to work in the morning, so it was 14 hours with and 10 hours without, every day except weekends when he went the full weekend as a woman. He became used to the red polished look in the evening and weekends however, and it slowly became normal for him. All he could do now at the board room table was make a fist with both hands and say nothing. The meeting rambled on as usual and ended without any comments upon his beautification, but as he stood to leave, the senior partner said, "Jason, could you come to my office please. We have some things we need to discuss."

The meeting did not go well. 

"Mr. Steele," he started, "Do you think I'm slow or stupid?"

Jason's heart skipped. This was not good. "No, of course not sir."

"I'll get to the point. Your eyebrows are quite feminine, have been for some time I believe. You have mascara on this morning and your nails are long and painted bright red. What am I to think?"

Damn that waterproof mascara; It didn't come off in the shower, he thought. Jason was flustered. "Sir, I'll fix all this right away sir." But he offered no explanation as to why it was so in the first place; there was none to offer.

"No Jason, I don't think you can fix this right away. It's something else, isn't it? You're transgender or something like that aren't you? I'll be honest; this firm does not quite believe in the transgender nation. To be blunt, you can't continue to pursue cases with this firm if you look like someone in a gay pride parade. You've lost a lot of credibility lately, your billings are down, and quite frankly, your value here is tarnished to say the least. You know what to do, and you have two weeks to do it. You can sue us if you wish, but I don't think that would be wise."

His resignation was accepted a week later, and after a long soul search, he set up his own office on the edge of downtown, coincidentally near the transgender shop where he had been fitted with his bra inserts many months ago. Business was poor, as expected, but Victoria's kinky friends were beginning to see him as a tool for kinky rights, so things were slowly changing. It also helped that he put an ad up inside the transgender shop that he would represent clients if it was perceived that their rights had been trampled.

He was well into the permanent electrolytic removal of facial and eyebrow hair by the end of February, and the results were encouraging. No scarring, no serious burning, just clean hairless skin. It would take years, but he had resigned himself to remove all his body hair as soon as physically possible. With no hair, he could still pass as male during work hours, but it seemed odd to him that he was now thinking that way; he used to wonder if he could pass as female.

The most stressful and difficult decision he had to make was concerning his breasts. He had come to hate his own chest, flat and masculine, but he had also come to hate the preparations of re-applying the fake breasts every few days. Yes, they felt real, bouncing and jiggling when he moved, but they weren't real, and now he believed that there was this one final decision to make, one from which there was no return. If he decided one way, he would have to come out as transgender, the other, and he would always be a fake female, one in fantasy only, a weekend plaything. In late January he talked to Jodi about it.

They were up late drinking wine after watching a movie in late December. As usual he was dressed in a skirt and blouse and very relaxed, and he said, "I'm scared."

It was an abrupt departure from their conversation, and Jodie looked at him sharply in concern. "Scared? Scared of what?"

"I want breast implants," he said simply.

Jodi smiled and said, "Congratulations! I've always wanted a woman with a cock." And she giggled. Then she said, "But why are you scared?"

"Same reason. I want breast implants."

"Huh?"

"Look," he said, "If I get breast implants, I come out of the closet; there's no going back."

Jodi took her head off his shoulder and turned to look deeply into his eyes, whispering, "Janice" (she called him that now) "There's no going back now anyway. You have to face that. You're transgender. You have to face your peers in your profession, your friends, your family, and most of all, the public at large, and let them judge you by the person you are, not your gender."

Janice looked down at the floor, away from Jodi's gaze and said, "I know. I find the idea of that incredibly exciting. That's what scares me. Where are we going with this? Where am I going with this?"

"Janice," she said reassuringly, "For all intents and purposes, you're a woman right now, right? I mean, look at you; you're gorgeous! Are you going to run to the basement to hide every time the doorbell rings in the evening or on the weekend just because you're dressed and made up as a woman? Forever?"

Jodi cocked her head and smiled a silly smile. "Be a man, Janice; get the implants. Who's more important to you, me or all the other people out there?" She swept her arm around the room to indicate the world at large. "I'm the only one who's important to you now. Remember that. And you agreed, you have to obey me." She winked.

He couldn't help it; he laughed. "That's right; I did agree to that, didn't I? But how can I be a man and choose breast implants?"

She responded immediately with, "And how can you be a woman and not?"

They sat silently for quite some time. Finally he leaned forward and said with suppressed excitement, "Jesus, I have to, don't I?" It was a rhetorical question, as he had made the decision. He immediately knew it was the right one, because he felt euphoric and free and light as if he had been dragging an anchor up until now. The very next day, Jodi talked to Joanie who pulled strings in her medical profession and it was set up, surgery for the tissue expander in late April, installation of saline implants in June. This had been disappointing, as the wedding was slated for late March, but there were physical issues which could not be avoided: his skin was tight, and could not accept the 500cc of saline fluid that he wanted for breast size, not without prior expansion. Timing could not always be perfect.

Jason continued to appear as a male during work hours, but female in the evenings and weekends. His female mannerisms continued to overtake his male side, making it more and more difficult to switch back and forth between genders when required. He even started to cry. He cried when he was sad; he cried when he was happy, and initially it was disconcerting. He even accused Jodi and Victoria of secretly giving him female hormones, but they adamantly denied it. After some discussion, it was decided that he was simply freeing up his inner soul with his other changes, like it was a therapeutic result of his feminization, a placebo effect, and maybe that was true. But he still felt male, unable to fully interact with the public at large, so Jodi kept training him in the delicate art of appearing feminine, encouraging and prodding, pushing and pulling. Slowly, he became a person, not a lawyer, not a man, not even a woman, but a real live soul-bearing person, for the first time unabashedly happy around those that loved him. But outside of that circle, not so much.

The wedding date had been set for the last Sunday in March. Today was March 10th, and it had been special. Janice's wedding dress had gone through its final alteration and the final fitting had taken place. It was a thing of beauty, a brocade strapless, fit and flare gown, pink in color, with a beaded lace bodice and ultra-feminine sweetheart neckline. Because he had not had surgical breast augmentation and was still wearing the self-adhesive silicone breasts, a sheer over the shoulder, lace accented covering had been added to distract the observer away from his poor cleavage. The dress was fully lined with satin, and when it fell down upon him and was zipped tightly up the back, the weight of it was astonishing. It fell down to his feet as if there were lead weights in the hem and the satin slipped over his corset and the padded girdle, sighing with every slight movement. The fit was perfect, and for the first time in his life, he had a complete psychological flip so that he looked at himself as being a woman. For the first time there was no doubt in his mind as to what gender he felt himself to be and it was a turning point, one of many over the past several months, but this bigger than all the rest.

Suddenly, it all fell into place. The next day, Janice got out of bed with resolve and excitement, went through his daily preparations for his inner hidden self, the enema, the anal plug, the corseting and tightening of it by Jodi, but this morning he said to her, "Jodi, what would a small independent female lawyer wear to work?"

As she pulled on the corset laces, Jodi smiled almost imperceptibly and answered, "Well, I think I'd go with a conservative black skirt and white blouse which shows breasts but in a covered way, no cleavage, and some lightly patterned hose with three inch black heels. Nothing fancy. That's what I'd suggest to any female lawyer just starting out on her journey. And just what female lawyer would you be asking about anyway?"

Janice drew in a quick breath, blew it out quickly for stress relief, and said, "Jodi, I'm going to do it. I'm coming out."

"It's about time, you twit!" she answered playfully, "You simply can't get any more feminine than you are now. The only thing you have to watch out for is nervousness. You WILL be gawked at, by both men and women. Men want to see if you're worthy of fucking; women want to see what you're wearing and see if you're a threat to men choosing them. It's so stupid, but it's evolution at work I guess, and we have no control over that. You'll be fine, as long as you just relax and be yourself."

It was a blustery March day, colder than the thermometer said, as March often was. Janice's overcoat was tied tight at his waist, and he picked his way from the parking lot two blocks away to the office, trying to negotiate the odd ice patch on the sidewalk in four-inch heeled knee-high boots. He carried his more conservative shoes in a bag along with his purse slung over his shoulder. Waiting at the stoplights, he tried not to look afraid and nervous, but he was. Discreet glances at strangers occasionally revealed what Jodi had warned him about, but for the most part, people were more concerned about staying warm.

The corset seemed tighter than usual this morning, the anal plug larger, and his breasts bounced and jiggled with an increased erotic tremor as he walked. When he entered his office, Jeanie greeted him, "Good morning ma'am. Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?"

He had hired Jeanie three weeks before, and she had been worth her weight in gold, and that would have been a considerable fortune. Her flesh jiggled when she got up to help him out of his coat.

"Jeanie, it's me. It's Jason, umm Janice..." He waited for a reaction but there was none.

As Jeanie took his coat and hung it up, she turned and said, "Oh, sorry, I thought you were a client. You look lovely Jas, uh, Janice, just lovely. Your usual coffee? Mrs. Giovani will be here for her appointment at 10:00. Here's your file."

Janice looked at her as he unzipped his boots and put on his lower heeled shoes. "You knew? You knew about me?"

Jeanie sat down behind her desk and put her elbows on it, clasping her hands. "Of course I knew sir, err ma'am. Okay, that's hard...can I just call you Janice then? Anyway, you, umm, you just had that look, and don't forget the corset; you've had one on every day. Women notice things like that I guess. I wonder if you'll learn to notice stuff like that too. Anyway, congratulations!"

"What? What for?"

"For coming out. I suspect it's been a long journey for you."

Janice became overwhelmed with happiness with Jeanie's greeting, so he walked around her desk, gave her a big hug, and said, "Thanks Jeanie; that means a lot to me, especially your underwhelming reaction."

Jeanie said, "And I assume you chose today because your father is coming in to take you to lunch? He must be a sweet man to do that."

Janice's heart seemed to stop. "Today? He's coming in today? Oh Jesus! Oh shit, and I can't go home and change either...too much to do here." He paced back and forth.

"Uh-oh. I take it he doesn't know yet?" Jeanie asked.

"No. I didn't know how I was going to do this with him and Mom. Maybe I should warn him? Oh shit!"

"How's his heart?" Jeanie asked, with all seriousness.

"Oh it's fine."

"Then maybe this is the best way...shock and awe..."

Janice looked into the distance, well beyond the walls of the small office, and said wistfully, "Maybe it is; maybe it is. There's no right place and right time for something like this to take place anyway. I remember now. I was supposed to meet him at Bruster's. Better in public than in private maybe...I don't know..."

He decided to just do it. When he entered Bruster's at 11:55, the place was busy, almost full already. As he took his coat off, Janice's hands trembled and the corset's tightness didn't allow him as much oxygen as he would have liked, to the point that he briefly felt dizzy. As the receptionist took his coat she said, "Do you have a reservation ma'am?"

She called him ma'am. He got a rush from the top of his thighs to the base of his neck. She actually called him ma'am. "Mr. Steele's table please," he said.

"Oh yes, right this way then..." He followed her with growing trepidation, weaving this way and that way, avoiding table edges, all the while seeing the lecherous glances of the men and the critical looks of the women, but he remained composed, as his hands fell from his wrist showing off his bracelets and bright red fingernails, the polish perfectly applied. He even returned one or two of the men's glances, and they maintained their gaze, making a slight smile and nod. It was a totally foreign and freaky experience, repulsive in a sexual way, as he had no attraction to the male form, but erotic in a way because he seemed to be accepted by them as female. Weird.

There he was. The hostess stood beside his father's table. The back of his grey head was visible, and as usual he was dressed in a black suit.

"Mr. Steele? Your guest..."

Janice came around from behind and quickly sat down facing him.




The Club of Fools Ch. 09



The elder Steele looked up from the wine menu and said, "Excuse me Miss, there seems to...wait, what?"

"It's me Dad." He didn't smile. He was afraid to.

His Dad looked around the restaurant, concerned at being identified with this shocking development. He laughed nervously and said, "What's this? Ha! Who put you up to this? Jesus, you look real for Christ's sake! Was it Freddie?" He laughed out loud then and said, "That bastard; I'll bet it was Freddie. Why the hell would he get you to dress up like this then?"

"Dad...Dad, it's me. Nobody put me up to this. I'm...I'm...I'm..." It just wouldn't come out. He couldn't tell his father that his only son, only child, was now his daughter, but he continued to try to utter the words. He tried a different tack, "I'm trans', Dad."

Steele squinted his wrinkled old eyes and said, "Trans what?" He could be so obtuse, like an old horse with blinders on.

Despite his age-old fear of the mighty and elder Steele, Janice was already becoming exasperated, like he had been on numerous occasions when he was a teenager. "Transgender Dad. I'm a woman now." There, he said it.

Silence and time were necessary to allow the fading of his Dad's smile. It was slowly replaced by a perplexed look of astonishment and denial. "Right," he said slowly, "You mean this isn't a joke. So, like Bruce Jenner then?"

"Yes. Like Caitlin Jenner. My name's Janice."

"Your name's Jason, son," he said softly, "It's Jason. And if you need some help, you know, a psychiatrist or something..." He looked gravely concerned for his son. As an afterthought, he said, "Jesus, do you, you know, still have your...?

Janice felt for him. This was hard. He spoke softly but firmly, "Yes Dad, I do have a penis. I will always have a penis. Dad, I've always worn or wanted to wear women's clothes, and I met some people...they've helped me to understand... I don't need or want psychiatric help. I was never happy until now, never. I'm happy Dad."

The elder Steele nodded his head, processing. "So, this is why you set up your own shop, why you didn't come to see us all this time."

"Yes. Dad, I'm getting married." He blurted it out without thinking.

His Dad breathed a heavy sigh and said, "Oh Christ! Who is he son?"

"It's a she, Dad. I'm not gay. Her name's Jodi. I guess that makes me a lesbian."

The shock was over, but the confusion was building. Nonetheless, he smiled and shook his head from side to side. "My son is a lesbian," he stated flatly, "I need something more than just wine I think. Should I get Mom to come down here?" He waved to the server and ordered a double scotch. Janice ordered a glass of Viognier. When the wine arrived Mr. Steele watched his son's long manicured fingernails wrap around the wine glass. They looked like they belonged. Jason looked like a woman. It scared him and he tried something desperate.

"Jason, you know I have a Trust set up for you. We can't allow this irrationality. Come to your senses...or you're out. Your mother would agree. It breaks my heart to say this, but you can't be my son if you carry this through."

Janice's eyes watered up with that. He said with a quavering voice, "I have come to my senses Dad. You can do what you want, but this is me. And you know very well Mom would be shocked but okay with this. You say I can't be your son if I do this. You're absolutely right; but I can be your daughter. Please Dad..."

It was a primal reaction. His Dad's heart broke and he reached across the table taking his daughter's hand in his and he said, "Please forgive me; I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry Jason; I'm so sorry. Janice. Janice." When he had finished vocalizing his name, he continued thinking it over and over in his brain. It would take a while. But it could be done. It could be done.

They held hands while they drank and talked. Janice went through his history lately without explaining all the bondage and kinky aspects of the bizarre switch in his life, how he had come to understand his longings. The lunch lasted most of the afternoon and a cab took them both to Janice's Mom, where the shock and denial and love came through once again. He phoned Jodi and explained what happened and that he was sleeping in his own bed at his parent's place that night, to be back with Jodi by 8:00 the next morning.

The jigsaw of his life was being solved one piece at a time. When he arrived at Jodi's the next morning he asked if he could make love to her. He needed some form of encouragement and commitment from her. She looked at him, so happy for his changes, so she said yes, after he showered and did his normal routines. What she didn't say was that there had to be rules. He was not to be allowed penetration until at least their wedding night, so while still in his corset and bra, she bound him in an arm-binder and penetrated him from behind with her strap-on instead, reaching around and allowing him at least an orgasm just when he thought she was going to tell him the lovemaking was over. Without being told to do so, he cleaned up his mess which had splayed all across the towel laid underneath him. It tasted salty and rich but too much was absorbed in the cloth. It would have been better on the bare floor.

Such was her expectation. Such was her control. And such was his love of it. It made him warm and fuzzy inside like freshly spun cotton candy, pink cotton candy.

Over the next while he met clients who were initially shocked, but were accepting of his change; he met new ones who never knew him as a male; he went to lunch at the local café, and no one noticed or commented about his appearance. Walking down the street in his high heeled boots, he felt a calmness and confidence he had never felt before. Men glanced at him, surveyed his shape and his legs, and passed on, some smiling and nodding, others opening doors for him. He wanted to whisper to them that he was a lesbian, but that was his secret, a secret held along with the man parts under his girdle and corset. The March days were cold but his chest was warmed by the silicone breasts glued to it, jiggling and bouncing as he walked.

In mid-March it hit him, those pre-marriage jitters, the doubts, the big ones. He bolted. Alone, late in the afternoon in his office, he suddenly slammed closed some files and left. His own house had not sold as yet, and he went straight to it, entering into it like a time traveller, looking suspiciously around, waiting for monsters from the past to hit him, bring him back to his boring sensible senses. By the time he got to his bedroom, he had been ambushed by so many memories of maleness, he had to retreat, going to the kitchen where he knew there was wine in the cupboard.

The second glass calmed his nerves and he ventured into the bedroom again. There she was...in the mirror. But she was different; there was something altered. There was a reality to the reflection; it was no longer fantasy. Pulling his dress up and his girdle down he tried to masturbate. The woman stared him in the eyes, daring him to, just daring. It wasn't working; he couldn't get hard until he reached between his legs and started to manipulate the anal plug. He fantasized Jodi penetrating him, pinning him to the floor, her breasts jiggling in front of his face while her hands massaged his own. Within seconds he spurted on the mirror and cried out. He closed his eyes tightly, remembering the shame of that, the vision that would have changed in the looking glass, the monster, the man in drag. He opened his eyes in dread, but she was still there, feminine and real. There was no man, no drag, just Janice. But now he felt guilt at having cheated on Jodi. He smiled and thought to himself that it was always good to have some guilt about something. Sex was better that way. 

But the big guilt was gone. Now he was loved by others as he was and in fact desired by others as he was.

He spoke to her, "I am Janice. I am a woman now. And I'm getting married." Her lips moved and he heard her speak. He saw her smile.



The Club of Fools Ch. 10



Author's Notes:

(1) This is fiction, just a story;

(2) One should never start a book at chapter 10. This story as a whole is way longer than I anticipated when I started, too long for those who hate it, not long enough for those who like it...apologies to the latter group;

(3) Jason is not being exploited by anyone except himself, and shouldn't we all exploit ourselves?

(4) Slavery is illegal. That does not mean it is not real;

(5) This chapter is not as erotic as many would like, but to those that fantasize cross dressing and transgender issues it is oozing eroticism between the lines. As usual, I don't expect many readers.

(6) This story does not appeal to many; I understand that. But those that like it, may like it a lot. I write for them. As usual, I don't expect many readers.

*****

The civil ceremony was planned to be simple, with bare-bones attendance, just the four of them in a room at City Hall. Jodi was adamant that the ceremony be there, and Janice had no idea why. It could have been anywhere, a park, or Victoria's backyard, but Jodi once read about Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Munroe getting married at City Hall in San Francisco, so that's what she wanted. And what Jodi wanted, she got. Janice had learned that time and time again. The advantages of a small civil ceremony were that it could be quick, legal, and inexpensive. The disadvantage was what made Janice afraid. There was a huge exposure to the public, arriving at City hall in a limo, exiting in full wedding dress and walking through very public areas to the prescribed room. That was just to get there. Once people realized that two brides had entered, curiosity would dictate that there would be rubber-neckers when he and Jodi left arm-in-arm, two lesbians...or worse if Janice screwed up and didn't come across as female. Janice guessed that maybe that was partly why Jodi had chosen that venue, precisely for the erotic excitement it gave her at his expense.

It had been decided that Suzie would be Janice's bride's maid, and Victoria would be Jodi's. Janice was sweating and shaking the afternoon of the wedding, and no amount of talking and light caressing could calm him down.

"I'm living in a fool's paradise," he said, "Jesus, I'm not a woman. I don't even look like a woman. Look at me! And I'm getting married wearing a wedding dress? A wedding dress! This is crazy, Suzie. I can't do this. Get me a glass of wine, okay? Jesus!"

It was 2:00 and two hours until the ceremony. Janice's hair was done and it looked beautiful in this uneven cut style, one side of his face shaded by extra-long strands, the other with bangs that shortened and thinned toward his ears. With the right makeup, the look would be spectacular, and Kwan was waiting in the living room for him to get dressed before she did the makeup magic.

"Oh come on Janice," Suzie said soothingly, "That's not true! You look beautiful. Your hair is amazing and your breasts...they look... They jiggle and bounce just like...well, just like mine. You have to get dressed; that's when we'll really see the new you."

Concerned about his mental state right now, Suzie patted him on the shoulder and went to the kitchen to pour a small glass of Chardonnay. Returning to the bedroom where Janice sat on the edge of the bed, unclothed except for his pink bra, almost in tears, she gave the glass to him and also put a small pill in his hand.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Diazepam. It'll help you get yourself under control. It starts working almost immediately," she lied. She was hopeful that there would be a placebo effect even before it started working in about half an hour.

"Really? Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely. You'll see. Just drink the wine for a few minutes and try to relax. Think about all the clothes you're going to be wearing, your fantasy-come-true underwear, and the dress. Oh, that dress..."

Suzie was being really nice and helpful, he thought. As he sipped the wine he observed her as she spoke calming things to him, sweet nothings really, and she amazed him. Now he saw what Victoria saw in her. Rough in the raw state, she polished up really fine, her pale grey floor length dress hugging her figure with grace, hiding all her tattoos. Today she had even suspended her usual Goth type makeup in favor of the more traditional, and her porcelain skin glowed with it.

He blinked. He felt better. "I should get dressed," Janice said.

Suzie breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the pink Vollers satin under-bust corset and said quickly, "Thank God. Stand up so I can lace you into this. It's the most luxurious corset I've ever seen."

The lacing took some time as usual, and the corset was exquisite, perfectly matched to Janice's figure. As his torso became more and more compressed, he started to relax even though full breaths of air were now unattainable. But he was used to that. His mood changed, due in part to the corset, and of course the diazepam. He smiled as the laces were tied off and he could see his figure in the mirror beside the bed. Feeling better about his femininity, he carefully smoothed the pale pink stockings up his legs and fastened them to the six garters so that he felt the pull of them on his legs. All his underwear was pink, and after he adjusted his penis in the panty gaff, he pulled the padded pantie girdle over all of it to complete his shaping.

He felt that familiar rush, the one he had always felt when he dressed as a woman. He trembled with the feeling of the satin and nylon on his hairless skin, the tautness of the corset, almost orgasmic in its erotic intensity. The underwear oozed sex and femininity and he wriggled within it all, feeling tingling sensations as he did, ecstasy in waiting.

Now Janice sat at the vanity while Suzie went out to get Kwan. He stared at his face and wished he had a smaller jaw. Surprisingly, even to himself, that was the only part of his face that was not uniquely feminine, but he knew that Kwan could fix anything, as he had learned to do as well. 

Kwan entered and looked at him, breaking out in a huge smile. "It's been a long time Jason," she said, "You have really changed! You look beautiful. It must be the hormones. Is it the hormones? Oh sorry, I meant Janice...too many things to catch up on I guess."

"Hi Kwan. Good to see you, and thanks. You're very kind, but I'm not on hormones."

"Really? I thought..." She glanced at Suzie strangely. "Well, you look great. Let's get started."

Janice looked at the two of them, puzzled by the unspoken exchange, but he said nothing, as there were more immediate things on his mind.

Kwan was truly an artist. Within a relatively short time, the mascara, eye shadow, blush and lipstick contoured his face and even his neck so that he could have passed as a woman anywhere, any time. She also touched up his fingernails and toenails. When she was done they all smiled. When the diamond ear rings were attached and left dangling from his ears, there could be no doubt that Janice was female.

"And now for the main show, the piece de resistance," Suzie said, "Stand up sweetie and get into your gown. Ohh, you're going to be so gorgeous!" She was vibrating with excitement, and Janice now had a calm contented excitement (if that combination is possible) due to the diazepam, with butterflies wafting about in his belly. As a man, he had never known or even wanted the excitement of looking beautiful (or handsome for that matter); it just wasn't something a man thought about, but now he did, and it opened a huge new world of makeup, corsets, bras, panties, skirts, dresses, tops, shoes, and shoes, and shoes.

He stepped into the gown and as Suzie pulled it up around him, the coolness of the satin lining swished up his legs and over his girdle, reaching the constriction of his padded hips and derriere, where he wiggled while Suzie pulled to get the waist in place. It settled on his shoulders and breasts in a weighted drop, and as Suzie squeezed and pulled up on the zipper, the weight became more distributed over his entire body. He felt like womanhood was sealing him in, a delicious feeling of tightness and femininity, and in contrast to male clothing, utterly impractical for normal wear. He started to walk about and the weight of the hem made it lag as he moved. When he stopped, it swung forward at his feet with a surprising momentum. His breasts were defined and held apart by the cut of the bodice and the bra and he stared down at them, slightly disappointed that they were supported so rigidly, as he liked the feel of them jiggling and bouncing when he walked. In some ways however, it relieved the soreness that he felt around his nipples lately, from what he believed was the constant pressure of the adhesive breasts. But the woman in the mirror...

Suzie had tears in the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away self-consciously. "It's not fair," she said, "It's just not fair that you could look so beautiful. I'm totally blown away by this."

Janice just stood there feeling his hips, his waist, his breasts, and occasionally rotating in front of the mirror. He was breathless with wonder at it all. Being the opposite sex is something most people don't think about, but he did. All the time. And now this...

He walked back and forth to get used to the restrictions of movement created by the heavy skirts draping and billowing against his legs. "Wait, I forgot my shoes," he said.

To his dismay he found that he couldn't bend enough to put the shoes on, so Suzie helped him with the four and three quarter inch pink high-heeled sandal shoes. They scared him initially but he quickly got used to them, as Jodi had forced him, day after day, to wear all kinds of high heels. There were simple metrics to it...short steps, toe to heel, let the hips move, and once you learned that, it was like riding a bike; you never forgot how.

He was ready. He and Suzie climbed into the limo in the driveway and settled silently into the plush leather seats. It was one of those late March blustery days that sends chills to your bone marrow, and then the wind drops and the sky clears and for five glorious minutes, it's spring. Despite the Diazepam, Janice's emotions were a bit like that, and sitting down only made it worse because the corset allowed only shallow breathing at the best of times. Jodi had made it abundantly clear that he was to marry her while plugged with the anal plug as well, so his emasculation and feminization, as well as submission were not in question. It penetrated and probed him now with every bump on the street.

Suzie, while staring straight ahead, offered her hand to Janice for comfort, as if he was headed for death row. He accepted it gratefully without a word, adjusting the light veil attached to his hair and covering a portion of his face. There were moments even now when he felt ridiculous and his stomach stirred with hints of nausea. But then the limo would turn a corner or hit a bump, and either the supporting corset or the penetration of the anal plug would plunge him back into his fantasy, which was now his reality. 

City Hall. The limo stopped. People milled about, mostly politicians and businessmen, but there were mothers and teachers with school children finishing up their tour of the facility and waiting for buses to take them home on Friday afternoon. And there were the usual homeless people and skaters, a backdrop for any city in North America.

The limo driver opened the door and said, "Well, here you go Ms. Steele. Your big day. May you live happily ever after!" He was charming and he held out his hand to help him. Weird feeling, thought Janice as he took his hand. He gathered his skirts, took as deep a breath as possible, and stepped out into the world. Children's voices shrieked out, "Look! A wedding mommy! Can we watch? Please?"

Others stopped briefly to check him out, the men in the usual way, the women in the usual way. His fishbowl moved with him as he walked carefully up the stairs, holding the skirts so they didn't impede his walk. The brisk wind swirled and wafted under his gown all the way to his thighs and he shivered as he walked. The satin lining actually got colder as it swished and hissed across his stockings.

Inside it got better. Not as many people. Oh, they looked, but they all had places to go, things to do. Janice walked to where he was told to walk by Suzie, smiling to strangers, blushing and lowering his head in his best Lady Diana look. It was 3:56 and he stood outside the assigned room. Just for the humiliating fun of it, Jodi had insisted that he be the one that walked down the aisle, giving himself to her. He knew she was waiting inside. What would she look like?

A sudden alarm went off in his head. "Suzie, do you have the ring?"

She smiled. "Everything's taken care of Jan, don't worry."

The faint sound of the wedding march came through the door just before it opened, and Suzie pulled on Janice's arm to get him moving. This is when it all became trance-like. He looked ahead for Jodi and there she was, with Victoria staring back at him. Her smile widened to an astonished look of joy at seeing him in his wedding dress for the first time. He did the same.

Jodi, of course, had chosen sky blue for the color of her dress and it was identical to his, but for the color and it had no covering to the shoulders and upper breast, allowing her cleavage to show. She was stunning, and he just wanted to touch her and go away with her. They both started to tear up when he finally made it to the front of the room. Suzie had followed him in and took her place beside him and slightly behind.

The legalities of the marriage took place first and neither Jodi nor Janice heard or remembered any of it. The first words that either of them heard were, "Jodi, please repeat after me:

I, Jodi Elizabeth Johnson, take you, Jason Edward Steele, to be my wife,

To have and to hold from this day forward,

For better or for worse,

For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,

To love and cherish from this day forward until death do us part."

Jodi fumbled through the words and her eyes never left Janice's. She hated that his male name had to be there, but it could not be legal without it at this time.

"Now Jason, please repeat after me:

I, Jason Edward Steele, take you, Jodi Elizabeth Johnson, to be my wife,

To have and to hold from this day forward,

For better or for worse,

For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,

To love and cherish,

To obey you and submit to you in all things,

From this day forward until death do us part."

Janice knew beforehand the "obey and submit" line was included and he gulped it down with some fear and apprehension. He was promising publically to obey and submit to her in all things. 

He solemnly agreed, and now it was part of public record.

The ring exchange and the statement of "I do" followed, but when Jodi presented her ring to Janice there was a second ring which Janice had not been forewarned about. Jodi placed an attractive shiny stainless steel collar around his neck and locked it on with a small padlock just before the ring was placed on his finger. She added an extra statement to the ceremony:

"This collar has but one key which I alone control. It signifies your bondage to me, your lawfully wedded wife, and it shall be a permanent reminder of our linkage and your service to me. It is subject to temporary removal solely at my discretion."

Instinctively his hand went up to feel it, and it was cold and smooth, about as thick as his finger, smaller in circumference than his head and could not be removed without the key. When asked if he would take this woman to be his lawfully wedded wife, he felt the collar again, hesitated, glanced briefly at the puzzled and fascinated Justice, looked Jodi in the eyes and said, "I do." A shiver and a thrill ran through him as he submitted to her in this way.

"I now pronounce you spouses. You may kiss each other." He stepped back and it was obvious that this was one of the more bizarre services he had ever performed, but he congratulated them and wished them well. The registry was signed and Janice and Jodi looked into each other's eyes and pulled each other together, locking mouths in a kiss that excluded everything else in the room. Their breasts pressed together and their hips pressed into each other's like Lego blocks, only detaching at the request of Victoria and Suzie.

It was done. They were married. A winding and complex road led to this, a simple ceremony. And it was over, the deal sealed. Janice briefly had that feeling of "what have I done?" but the movement of the present cascaded around him and did not allow an answer. He put his right hand on his bodice, then his collar, and unknown to anyone he squeezed his sphincter on the anal plug at the same time his chest rose against his corset. Trapped in so many ways. He really had done it this time.

They turned and walked to the back of the room arm-in-arm. When the door was opened for them, they walked into the waiting bystanders, the curious who wanted to see the bride. Now they had two brides to ogle, and flashes went off, unwanted ones, amid giggles and hushed statements like "Oh my God! It's two women!" or "Jeez, a lesbian wedding!"

But two people stood out in front of all the rest. Janice's mother and father stood there smiling and then walked toward them. They hugged Jodi, welcomed her to the family, and stood awkwardly in front of Janice, smiling, but feeling strange about hugging their son in a wedding gown.

Mr. Steele said, "Victoria phoned us. We understood that it was a minimal type ceremony, so we waited out here. But we had to be here; we just had to." He looked at his wife and she nodded for him to continue. "Umm, look, we umm, we can't help it, but we do find this strange, but you are our son, and we love you. No matter what, we love you and support you in all things. Uh, Janice, now you're our daughter I guess, and we accept your choice of gender and we accept your choice of mate. Anyone who loves you is loved by us as well. Umm, that's it..."

Janice had never seen his father so humble and gentle. They faced each other awkwardly and then the three of them embraced, his father recoiling only slightly from the feel of the wedding dress fabric on his son's body. His mother cried.

The Diazepam kept him whole and he said, "Mom, Dad, you have no idea what this means to me. You are unbelievable and I love you very much. I wish there was a reception or something, but there isn't. Can we get together after our honeymoon?"

"Of course," his mother said.

After a few more statements about how beautiful they looked and other inconsequential remarks, they parted and left for the limo parked outside. Victoria and Suzie climbed in with them.

As they drove away, Victoria said, "I didn't want to say anything to your Mom and Dad, but there is a sort of reception. We're going to Danube's for a meal and then we're spending the evening in the bar with some friends, nothing formal. I think your folks would feel out of place."

"So, are we going home first to change?" Janice asked.

"Hell no!" Jodi said, "These dresses cost a fortune; they're not coming off till the party's over!"

"But Jodi, I, umm, jeez, that's really public. I'm not too sure about this." Janice had pictured them leaving for Lake Louise after they changed but now he had to be on his best feminine behavior and appearance in public for the whole night. In a wedding dress.

Jodi kissed him on the mouth and said, "Love, honor, and obey. You'll be fine. I just love the fact that you have so many secrets bundled up under that gown, don't you? Your collar looks great by the way." And she felt his breasts and crotch while Suzie and Victoria looked on.




The Club of Fools Ch. 10



"About the collar... That was a surprise. Can I at least take that off now that the ceremony is over?"

Jodi looked at him, astonished, and said, "No, of course not. Didn't you understand when you said "I do"? That stays on at all times except for medical reasons like when you get an MRI or maybe an X-ray. It's not concealed, so you can even wear it while flying. It's your "forever" necklace; it never comes off."

"But it has a padlock on it," he whined.

"So? It also has an engraving on it which states that you belong to me."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, it says: "This Slave Owned by Jodi, June 2015". Hey, you repeated your vows; you said "I do". She shrugged her shoulders and said, "You'll get used to it. You'll get used to everything."

A buzz filled the restaurant when they entered. They were led to a table which overlooked the river through large plate windows. It was an upscale establishment. Janice felt the eyes, felt the lust in the men, the envy in the women, the curiosity in all of them concerning such stunning women, two dressed like brides, but with unconventional colors for the gowns. There were whispers and glances, sometimes outright stares.

Suzie broke the feeling. "Fuck them," she said, "Watch this."

The server approached and Suzie pre-empted anything he might say. "Good evening," she said elegantly, "These two ladies seated across from me have just married. Yes, we're all lesbians. So tell the men to fuck off and look somewhere else, okay?"

Even Victoria was shocked. "Suzie!" she admonished. Suzie shrugged and rolled her eyes. You could wrap Suzie up, nice and sweet looking, but the real Suzie would always eventually reveal herself.

The server was good, very good. He simply smiled and said, "And shall I tell the envious women to fuck off as well ma'am?"

Suzie had been matched. She giggled and said, "Yes, that would also be nice."

"Very well ma'am. May I get you a pre-dinner drink?"

They ordered wine only, two bottles, one red for Suzie and Victoria, and the white for Janice and Jodi. They toasted to the union of soul mates and set the glasses down, while Jodi put her hand on Janice's crotch under the table. They started to whisper and lean into each other while Victoria dropped the powder into Janice's glass. Jodi and Victoria shared a look and then Jodi proposed a toast which she explained required the glass to be drained.

"To friendship and love," she said, raising her glass.

They downed the wine and slammed the glasses down, laughing.

"You have about 15 minutes," Jodi said mysteriously to Janice.

He was laughing, feeling extremely buoyant. "For what?" he asked.

"Until the Cialis takes effect."

"What? Oh shit...the drink." He shut his eyes and sighed. Jodi would forever be full of surprises. That was what he liked about her and it was what he feared about her.

"It lasts a long time," she continued, "Up to 36 hours. You should be good for this evening and all night."

"I've never taken it before. Do I stay hard all the time? Jesus, even my girdle can't hide that," he whispered in alarm.

"No, silly! Only when I want it. You'll be very efficient. But your girdle might actually stimulate you, mightn't it; then you'd be fighting an erection all evening wouldn't you? That'd be kind of funny, but I'd help you out."

"How would you do that? I'm the one that has to deal with it. Jesus!"

She laughed and said, "You'll see baby, you'll see."

Twenty minutes later, after they had ordered their entrees, Jodi turned to him and said, "I need to pee. Will you come with me?"

Girls going to the washroom together. Here it was. They excused themselves and made their way to the back of the room where Janice stopped. It was that transgender dilemma, and even though he had used women's washrooms several times already, he always had to stop, and he always had a moment of panic mixed with excitement. He took a deep breath and entered. There was no one using it and suddenly he felt Jodi pushing him into the disabled cubicle. She followed him in and without saying anything she worked his dress up, and after much fumbling, worked his girdle and panties down. His erection was stunning and he stood there with his mouth open in anticipated ecstasy.

She took him in her mouth and allowed his gown to come down over her so that he only saw the luxurious fabric of his dress go up and down as she slowly built him up. He started to gasp and moan. Women entered, and seeing the base of Jodi's shoes under the cubicle door and hearing muffled sounds, quickly exited. Some lingered longer, one even going into the adjacent stall and sitting for quite some time while Jodi kept on. He struggled to contain his passion, and just as she opened the door to exit the washroom, he exploded with a girlish squeal into Jodi's mouth. He grasped her head through the fabric of the gown and kept her there, but she resisted, emerging from her tent with bulging cheeks and a grin.

Then she did something odd. She pulled a container out of her purse, unscrewed the top and spit the contents of her mouth into it. The cap was replaced and her purse accepted the offering. Janice didn't say a word, but was puzzled.

Jodi said, "See you later. Fix yourself up girl and come back to the table." She went to the sink, rinsed her mouth out, washed her hands and left him alone, stunned in the stall.

Janice cleaned himself as best he could, and sat there to go pee. It took him a few minutes to get his penis hidden once again and the girdle and panties just right. Then he washed his hands and went back to the table. He was alone this time swaying back and forth to avoid tables and servers, and it felt different, partly because all eyes were totally on him, but mostly because orgasm always dulled the fantasy of being exposed to the public like this as a woman. He felt vulnerable and weak, oddly an oft quoted feeling that many women have. He blushed as he walked. Which women here knew what happened in the washroom? She would have told her husband. There. Over there. They stared at him with poorly concealed contempt, or was it a type of scornful envy? He decided to fight them with a smile. They looked away. Assholes.

Sitting back at the table he lifted his glass of wine to the light. It was very cloudy and he glanced at Jodi's smirking face. He was about to complain to the server. Then he knew. He knew what it was swirling in the wine as he drank. He shook his head from side to side, but he was already hard again under the relentless pressure of the girdle and stimulation of his prostate by the anal plug. Thirty six hours. It was going to be a long and merciless thirty six hours. He closed his eyes and made a not so subtle grunt or gasp as he settled more deeply on the anal plug. Jodi knew what he was doing; she knew everything about him. She held his hand, in control as always.