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Two hours later, and Millard was a changed man. John was nearly catatonic from what she’d put them through.
Millard stood in the middle of the room, his entire body shaved from the head down, tears leaking from his eyes as he looked at the outfits Yvette had laid out for him. He was hoarse from protesting, but not once had he used his safe word; he couldn’t explain why, but even as he was humiliated he was aroused – almost more aroused than Roxie had ever made him feel. He knew something was terribly wrong with him, he’d known it for years, but the past two hours had been more confusing than any he could remember. He shifted uncomfortably, the thing in his ass a constant reminder of his new status.
John sat. Naked, humiliated and disgusted, he stared at his fingers past the black phallus at his nose. No amount of washing would satisfy him they were clean. The smell of Millard’s ass was in his nose; the smell of the depilatory was everywhere. He had wretched behind the gag, begging her to let him take it off, furthering his own debasement at his show of weakness, the smell of his vomit adding to the horrible stew. He wouldn’t use the safe word, and more surprising still, he couldn’t understand why he had been hard the entire time. And all the while she just watched them, sipping her cocktail, her bush and tits naked and teasing – the promise of fucking her ever present. He was almost ready to take her right now, but he knew she would fuck him up royally if he tried. His jaw was numb from fatigue, his neck wet from constant drooling of saliva and gastric juices. As god-damn awful as this is, it isn’t as bad as having a pony-tail stuck up my ass! He grunted a little laugh at the portrait Millard made standing there.
She liked what she saw: a nicely groomed pony, his skin oiled and satiny, his tail a little small, but it would grow over time. She had images of wonderful new outfits Lyssa could make – ephemeral and cloudlike, with hard leather and metal. She’d even imagined a brand and product line: Prancing Pony. It was going to be too perfect. She was practically dripping from arousal – it was time to get snail-cunt inside her. He had been hard almost the entire time he had tormented his friend, sick fuck, and he looked like he was ready to attack her. She needed that. It had been too long since she’d had someone properly fuck her.
“Snail-cunt,” she turned to him. “It’s time you made yourself properly useful…”
* – * – * – *
With finals week over the women’s house had transformed – the buzz of anxiety replaced by a fog of calm. That’s what it felt like to Chester, as if the air itself was thick with a sedative. Usually he was unaffected by other students’ stress, focusing on his own work, and rarely challenged to a point of anxiety, but then, he’d never spent any amount of time in a community of women. Maybe they had something else going on he reacted to.
He hadn’t spent a night alone since Roxie admitted to falling in love with him; he still wasn’t used to sharing a bed with someone. Harder still, she refused to let him wear anything, her skin pressed up against him; his sleep was suffering. And even more of a strain was his constant arousal – his peter was hard when he went to sleep and hard when he woke up. In one way he was thankful she wouldn’t let him release – at least he wasn’t losing his vital fluids – but his balls ached in ways he’d never felt before, and that was causing him some concern.
“Ow,” he winced when she lightly stroked his sac one morning. “I think something’s wrong…”
“That’s natural, Chester, my love,” Roxie said casually. “You just need to cum.”
He could tell by her attitude that she was not going to help him.
“Go ahead, if you need to. I don’t mind.” She sat up in bed, stretching and then laid back on her elbow to look at him.
He considered it – even moving a little sent jolts of pain through his testicles, but he really had wanted to slow down his frequency of ejaculation. He decided against it for the moment, easing himself off the bed.
“I love you, Chester,” she said with a smile and slipped out of bed to get ready for the day.
Love. He wasn’t sure what that meant, or if he’d really ever felt anything like it. He’d read enough literature about love. His tutors had made him read the classics, so he knew what others talked about when they talked about it.
He remembered the feelings he had for Yvette in those first few months – before he realized how cruel she was. He had thought that was love, but looking back maybe it was more like infatuation. The other day, when Roxie suggested he was a submissive and she treated him…that way…he felt something like what he remembered feeling for Yvette, but it was different. It was all too confusing, really. He did feel great fondness for Roxie, maybe even affection. And then, the other night, when he had bitten her and she wanted him to do it more, that feeling in the pit of his stomach, reptilian, predatory-like. What was Ataşehir Escort that about? Was that love?
The echo of that feeling came back as he gingerly washed himself in the shower. Did she really want him to hurt her? Could he continue to do that? Was that how he felt love? And marriage? Was Roxie really contemplating marriage? His experience in that department was limited to his parents, who had not been exemplary role models – his father leaving his mother, only to return to take over the inheritance. Others, aunts and uncles, cousins – many were married of course, but he really hadn’t thought much about whether they were in love. The two things seemed to be completely separate in his experience – people married for all sorts of reasons apparently, not because they loved each other.
The house was preparing for Commencement. Although he wasn’t graduating this term, he was expected to support the house’s efforts. A processional committee had been formed with much activity around outfits, sashes and the like.
On top of those preparations, there was to be a party. He only got snatches of the arrangements as he did his toilette in the morning or over meals. It didn’t involve him, as far as he could tell – tomorrow he would be moving back to the men’s house for summer term – his last before he graduated.
Yvette had said her goodbyes the day before, the two men in tow, Millard somehow transformed, John tamed in some subtle way. She waved goodbye from the taxi, all smiles and light. He returned the waves but not the kiss. Each day he had woken up, relieved at the realization he was free from her power. For the first time in his life, he had begun to think about the future, a future he could envision without her. He pitied her: her obsession about money, her need to control. With Arthur’s help he was assured he would never have to worry about money, not that he’d given it much thought; but Arthur had been clear on one thing: he had to find an avocation – he couldn’t be idle.
A light knock at the door interrupted his daydream as he was packing. He returned Roxie’s smile, the pain from his groin a constant reminder of his situation with her.
“Busy?” She didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. Looking around, she saw he had packed most of his things. “Looks like you’re pretty much ready, yeah?”
He nodded, looking at the room in a fresh light. It no longer suited him, the coral and peach, the stuffed animals. He felt a change growing in him, something that started a couple weeks before was growing, but it still hadn’t taken shape. That feeling in the pit of his stomach returned when he looked at her, his eyes shifting to the tops of her thighs. He licked his lips, thinking about biting down on her clitoris.
Snatches of a dream he’d had the night before came back. He and Yvette were standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, it was a beautiful sunny day, clouds drifting. As peaceful as the scene, however, he felt menace and foreboding. Without warning, Yvette pushes him over the edge and he was falling into the crack. Suddenly a red balloon appears below him and he falls into its sheath, enveloped by a warm red fabric. The fabric changes to a long red tongue and he woke up as if he had been swallowed. He shook his head to try and clear the images but he couldn’t shake the feeling. Something was changing.
“Soooo,” Roxie began, her voice a little strange. “I was hoping…I was hoping you might want to join some of the rest of us for a little party…”
“I’ve been hearing about it…”
“It’s a bit like a Sadie Hawkins…but perhaps a bit more grown up…”
He shrugged, not at all clear what that might mean. He’d never been invited to a party by a girl – being the freak in high school guaranteed it – so he had no reference. He raised his eyebrows.
“So, I was hoping you’d be my date!” She smiled, the invitation less a question than an expectation.
“When is it again?”
“This Saturday. Are you free?” She knew he was.
He knew she knew. And he knew she knew he knew she knew. It made him laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be free?”
“Perfect. It’s at 7PM. Uhhh, and there’s something else…” She paused, uncharacteristically embarrassed or shy.
He paused as well, waiting, now even more confused at her demeanor.
“The party. Like I said. It’s an adult Sadie Hawkins. We’ve done it once before and it was pretty wild. Even some of the more shy girls came…uhmm…out. But, well, you and I, we’ve…oh fuck. Why am I so nervous?” She giggled, looking down at her hands. “Okay. I’ll come out and say it straight and I hope I don’t fuck up what we’ve got going.” She paused again. “We do have something going, don’t we?”
He looked up at her strange tone and realized she was truly vulnerable, concerned about his reaction or, he couldn’t quite believe it, his feelings. The predatory feeling returned.
He nodded. “Tell me.” The crocodile eyes poked above the surface, his stomach Kadıköy Escort clenching slightly.
“Well, first, it’s clothing optional. That part shouldn’t be too hard to handle for either of us.” She waived her hands and gave a short laugh. “More challenging, perhaps, is that the boys all must be restrained – you come as our ‘pets,’ not as our dates.” She held her breath, waiting.
He smiled slightly, trying to imagine what such a party would be like. “And what sort of pet would you expect me to be?” The image of a lizard popped up unbidden.
She exhaled, relieved he found it as amusing as he did. “Why, I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far, but now that you ask, isn’t it obvious? You’d come as my pussy.”
* – * – * – *
The “ballroom” was in the basement of the house. Basement wasn’t really an appropriate word – not cold, dank or moldy, the bottom floor of the house opened out onto a broad expanse of lawn where the hillside had been terraced.
As Chester descended the stairs (Roxie had allowed him to walk down), he immediately noticed how high the ceilings were. He’d not had an occasion to come down before, and he had expected a low ceiling room, housing the heating plant with exposed plumbing. None of that was the case.
The stairs spilled into a small squarish hall, a pair of open double doors revealing a larger room beyond, along with a corridor serving several rooms to the right.
They walked through the entrance to the room – brightly lit, with a bar at one end, glass sliding doors out onto the back lawn, and couples…naked, or nearly naked…lounging, dancing or making out. He had felt self-conscious when Roxie had put the collar and leash on him upstairs – it was a new step – but more difficult to adjust to was the harness she had made him wear around his penis. A thin flat belt around his waist, with a two equally thin belts attached above his pubis, pulled tight down and through his legs to attach at the back. Roxie had wrapped two silk handkerchiefs around the belts, making his groin look like an oversized vagina, pink and red. His peter was pressed against the flesh between his legs, not even the root visible through the fabric. Its position forced him to move unnaturally, with a slightly widened gait; the fabric and belts constantly rubbing against the top of his shaft. When Yvette had made him pull his penis back, it was in service of an outfit; this time it was to make him look like a woman even when he was naked.
He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors – with his smooth pubis, the silk floral fabric really looked like an oversized pair of labia. He closed his eyes and tried not to blush. A pulse of arousal moved through him and he looked at Roxie, holding his leash. He hoped she wouldn’t be cruel.
Looking around he saw that at least one of each pair had a leash in hand, the other with it around their neck. In all cases, he quickly saw, only women held the leash – he saw Darla with what he assumed was Roger, and Bethanie, also with a man. Near the bar he saw Genielle, statuesque and regal, her leash around, what Chester could only assume was her boyfriend – a well-built dark skinned man, sipping a drink out of straw, his arms tied behind his back, kneeling next to her.
He shook his head, unable to connect all of the dots. How could they all behave this way?
“Ecstasy, Chester. Like I told you. It does wonderful things for your sex life. But we don’t need it, do we sweetheart?” Roxie pulled him along through the open dance floor, the music dying down; couples leaving to grab a drink or go outside.
He tried to ignore everyone’s stares. He’d been used to dressing as a woman, but now, with his peter pulled tight under him by the two straps, he knew what he looked like. For the past several years he’d thought of his penis as a nuisance, grateful for Lyssa’s creative designs, but Roxie’s use of the straps was something new. Perhaps we should send her a picture and a suggestion for a new line. It was uncomfortable, especially as he walked, and now as he felt it swelling, pushed hard against the leather. Was there something Lyssa could do to make it more comfortable? He made a mental note to bring it up with Roxie later.
Most of the other guys in the room were on the floor, kneeling or engaged in some kind of sex act with their partner. Roxie was parading him through the crowd, his ‘coming out’ party, is how she’d put it to him. He smiled, not getting the joke when she first said it. Naked, she paraded him as if he were a woman, coming ‘out’ when his peter was tied up tight and out of sight.
“You’re looking swell, Chester.” Darla stared at his crotch and gave a little tug on Roger’s leash, forcing him to sit up. “Roger, this is the guy I’ve been telling you about. What do you say, bitch?” Roger looked up at her, his eyes smiling, and looked at Chester.
“Woof.” He barked, tossing his head a little.
“Nice,” Roxie nodded. “Nice. Does he do any Bostancı Escort other tricks?” She motioned to the bartender for two shots of tequila.
“All sorts of tricks,” Darla giggled. “Like, find the pearl in the bearded clam. You really like that one, don’t you my pet?”
Chester remembered his first night in the house, when Darla was so self-conscious she wouldn’t uncover her breasts in the bathroom. Now, completely exposed, she was pulling Roger up, forcing his mouth to her dark bush.
“Mmmm, that’s right, my pet. Ohh! Yes. Keep doing that. Keep doing that, and you’ll get a nice bone.”
“I think he’s getting a bone, one way or another, Darla.”
Chester looked down to see Roger’s penis getting erect. He turned away, distracted by a noise and saw Corrine through the doors, coming down the stairs. She was completely naked, her breasts even fuller than he remembered them – light skinned, with dark pink targets. She had done her hair, pulled it into a sever bun actually, that made her features sharper than usual. He shivered a little at how fierce it made her look. She saw them and crossed the room, smiling at all of the guests and house members.
“You look ravishing,” Roxie greeted her with a hug. “Where is your date?”
“In a few, in a few.” She ordered a drink and looked around. “I don’t see June – has she arrived?”
Chester scanned the room and saw her outside, lounging on the grass – apparently alone. “There,” he nodded.
She nodded in return and carried her drink through the doors. Chester watched her, her naked backside a little fleshier than he remembered it; the indentation from her spine as it merged into her cheeks exactly as he remembered it.
Roxie pulled on his leash lightly, wanting to dance. It wasn’t something he’d been very good at, but his current situation gave him no alternative. Self-conscious about his lack of rhythm far more than his nudity, but uncomfortable with how his penis was restrained, he tried to move to the beat.
She could see his awkwardness. “Chester. Just copy what I’m doing, as if we’re mirror images.”
He concentrated on her movements, seeing her arms move over her head, her waist swaying one way while her legs went another. It was hard work!
She laughed. “Try smiling a little Chester! It’s not supposed to be a work out!”
By the time the song ended, he was sweating, the alcohol beginning to go to his head. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s sit this one out.”
She pulled him down to his knees, his mouth against her open slit, while she lounged, sipping her drink. “You like that, don’t you Chester? You prefer to suck my clit more than dance, yeah?”
He nodded, the tequila making it easier to rest his head, anywhere was better than trying to stand or dance. He lapped at her vagina, running his tongue into her folds the way she liked it. He was losing himself in her, in her smell, her taste, the feeling of her lips against his tongue. He lost track of time, her legs and pelvis pushing against him as he worked his jaw against her. The urge to repeat what he’d done the other night came back, his teeth beginning to nibble at her soft folds, working their way to her clitoris. Crocodile eyes.
“Not here, pet.” She whispered. “Not now. Later. I want you to do that to me when we’re alone.” She put her hands on the back of his head and gently pulled him away. Looking up he saw a gleam in her eye he couldn’t interpret. Bringing her finger to his lips, she looked up at the room nodding her head to someone.
“As much as I love what you’re thinking, it’s time for a special announcement.” She stood up, her vagina brushing against his forehead, and stepped away from him, turning to offer her hand. Pulling him up, she walked with him to the center of the room. The music had stopped and the dance floor was empty.
“Everyone,” she twirled a little to look around the room. He noticed everyone had come in from outside, standing in the doors, drinks in hands, leashes in hands, all staring at them. “I want to thank you all for making this a very special evening!” Her eyes were sparkling and he began to wonder whether she had taken Ecstasy.
“This party is to celebrate the end of the year. Not only have we done our time here…” the group shouted, interrupting her, “…helped our friends,” she paused to point to Chester next to her and looked around to find Catherine, kneeling at Corrine’s feet, “and also to share some very exciting personal news with you.” She paused dramatically.
“As many of you know, I was working very hard to land a job after graduating,” she stopped again to smile at the room, “and I just heard from Wygant Industries that they are offering me a starting position in their labs!” She clapped and gave a little jump, her breasts bobbing up and down. The room erupted in applause and good will. Roxie raised her hand to quiet them.
“I had a very strict upbringing,” she continued. The room looked puzzled at the radical shift in the conversation. “I was always taught I needed to ‘get my education, get a job, and only then consider marriage.'” She had deepened her voice impersonating her father. “So, I’ve taken care of the first two, and now, as you are all my witness, I will, hopefully, take care of the third.”
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