Like I Said, Clap Hands Here Comes Rachel (Chapter IV)

  

Clap Hands, Here Comes Rachel

by Rachel

  

The BSers were throwing the blocks to the TiT Raymond. The pills, the fat-inducing diet and the physical conditioning classes had all worked to alter his sparse male bodily configuration to that of the classic naked dancing girl. And the inborn H factor had accelerated the development of his secondary feminine characteristics (that’s like the boobs, don’t you know) and worked to greatly minimize the output from those pesky testes which in turn allowed the female hormones to virtually take over the body sculpturing role. And concurrently, they were PISsing him to alter his psyche from that of a male to that of a female. As a result, even Raymond noted first the inflated size of his nipples and the obvious bulging and spreading of areola areas. And most of all, he could feel their greatly increased sensitivity and responsiveness to external stimulation which the techers assured him was a normal female reaction. The fat-inducing diet had indeed applied that thin layer of fat under his skin which smoothed his facial and bodily contours, altered his bodily hair patterns and rid him of the angular look of the male. They techers considered it a bonus that much of the fat had accumulated around his hips and cheeks – ooooh, Raymond got that special feeling every time one of the techers checked him out (that’s like feeling the swell of his hips and the fullness of his cheeks). He clenched each time someone cupped the lower hang of a cheek and sort of bounced it around grinnng all the while at Raymond’s discomfort.

They put him into an on-the-job training program down at the beauty salon where they plucked his eyebrows lightly for starters, At the costuming boutique, they fitted him with a demi-bra with built in pads which gave him a constant uplift and a squeeze whereas the ‘no panty line’ panty served him well in lieu of a gaff. Of course, one would be apt to say ‘no big thing,’ but you got to remember that Raymond had the day job down at the prestitigious brokerage house to go to. Now, doesn’t that change things a bit?

They provided him with a revealing maid’s uniform to perform the menial duties down at The Club where he was constantly in the company of females, honey, I mean constantly, some of whom badgered him constantly, did I say constantly. The BSers always figured that with the constant exposure, some of the female mannerisms would take hold if only through osmosis.

It had taken some six months (two chapters to be exact) to complete the basic transformation during which time Raymond had acquired the attributes considered to be so appealing to the male viewer – oh, you know, he had the KATs to be able to pull it off on the unsuspecting patrons at The Club. They had fitted him with The Kitty which gave him the look of Patti down there and later with the new and improved version of The Kitty II which would defy visual detection from as close as, as arm’s length. There was talk that The Kitty III would have further enhancements which would allow a gentle touch without giving it away – oh sure, that was a reach but then again, even Patti wouldn’t know the old place by that time. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? Got to pay attention to the early chapters, don’t you know.

But now that the pills had worked to give him some semblance of having boobies, they had Raymond modeling solo in the nude, actually the word is naked, that’s like having everything showing, don’t you know. And he had done so well that they were even considering him for a video session with male partners and even with groups – that’s like an orgy, don’t you know. Oh sure, all the action would be simulated but then again, they had done it so many times that you had to have been there yourself to know that it just wasn’t so. But don’t get me wrong, the video team had video taped many such sequences but for the participants, it was a first time effort, and honey, the first time is a blast, let me tell you, the first time is a blast what with the reluctance to perform and yet have that feeling that it was the introduction to doom.

And the trouble was that Raymond knew that he had signed the releases which gave The BSers full rights to the photos and videos which meant that he could be appearing in the publications some of which were not of his persuasion. Oh, it meant that The BSers could use the photos for whatever without further permission from Raymond. The girls remarked, "Honey, once you’ve made it to the centerfold with an accompanying photo spread, they’ve got your tits in a wringer, girls get their tits in the wringer, boys get grabbed by the short hairs, I hope I was able to clear that up for you) and you’ll find yourself posing for still more stills and gradually be worked into making explicit videos. And by that time, you’ll be an experienced model and they will send you out on model assignments and oh boy, somebody will have photos of you in with a B/D S/M theme, in a gay female environment, maybe even with the gay males although that is unlikely." Wonderful, absolutely wonderful, Raymond mused.

The BSers moved Raymond along quickly not only to keep the pressure on him but to get him to the point where he could begin to earn his keep. And now he was representing The Club at this big nudie festival out in the cornfields of the Midwest. And the pressure was on him to bring back a trophy for the honor of The Club – sure, but there wasn’t anybody considering his honor. Even during the early hours before he could get himself changed, whichever direction he looked, there were naked females in small clusters posing for photographs. Oh sure, there were a few males but Raymond found it easy to avert his gaze – damn, naked males were just not his thing. But damn, thanks to the PIS sessions, he found his confidence soaring now that he had meaningful boobies and The Kitty II in place.

But now, Raymond found himself out on the porch in his tee with Tricia, one of the girls from the local gentlemen’s club, who was already topless and leaning out over the railing charming her admiring audience with her tittilating small talk. Oh, she wasn’t overly large as these things go but she knew how to use them to her best advantage, letting them hang to their full extension but keeping herself high enough to avoid the groping hands. Raymond kept an eye on her technique – how she used her hands to show herself off, how she positioned her torso to get the most hang to her breasts while leaning herself over the porch railing. And she knew how to position her arms gracefully to get the most tautness to her breasts – Raymond enjoyed watching and learning. And all the while, the cameras were clicking and the flashes were flashing. In fact, he was getting a charge just by being there and watching and learning. But he got the itch to get out there and be just one of the girls.

He heard from Tricia, "Come on, Raymond, show the boys what you are bringing to the party." And sonbitch, Raymond didn’t know what came over him but in one swift movement, he lifted the tee to expose his breasts, I mean they could see the whole thing, nipples and all. He found himself being turned from one side to the other by Tricia who was pointing out his salient features as though he were on the auction block. Although he felt a little reluctance and indignation, he found her touch to be exhilarating and smiled his appreciation, and oh dear, oh dear, as he held his tee up, Tricia was manipulating his breasts ostensibly to accommodate the requests from their admirers. Raymond heard, "These are lovely, Raymond, they’re firm but really resilient. I think they will last you a long time." As the two posed themselves, Raymond cradled his breasts when he thought necessary and leaned himself forward just as he had seen Tricia do. Ooooh, he loved the feel of them hanging down there and the gentle sway that he could impart to them. And above all, he felt pretty darn proud of himself, first in that he had the nerve to do it at all and secondly, that he was as big as Tricia – but inwardly, he thought his nipples were bigger though.

Van and Sam watched the entire proceedings, "Look at that slut, he’s joining right in with the other girls. And look, nobody is the wiser. He’s really going to make it as a TIT. And did you see the way he avoids even looking at the males – there isn’t one out there that is really worthy of being included in the six inch class. And they laughed, "Well, Raymond thinks those guys are king s___ what with his minisculed one. But he’s really lucky that way, you know, big is not always better." Heh, heh, heh. Tricia heard, "Well, no skin off my nose, the only fraternization allowed was last night when the judges were pre-selecting the winners. You know how that goes, no fraternization, no awards."

Oh, how forgetful of me. Did I not explain to you what the TIT program entails. You remember TiT, it’s not to be confused with TIT. Tit is the part-time Transvestite in Training program which required Raymond to live off-premises. TiT is where the TV learns the rudiments of becoming female through constant coaching and monitoring and on-the-job training. By the time a TiT nears completion of the course, he is acceptably passable in public. Except in special cases such as Raymond, TiTs are allowed to keep their own equipment heavily taped to eliminate any semblance of a bulge and resorting to pads in order to present the proper configuration. And they maintained the mentality of both male and female which made it convenient for the hobbyist practitioner but certainly not intended for the full immersion transvestite, you know what I’m sayin’? That’s where TIT comes in.

TIT is the full-time program which requires, among other things, to have Raymond live in-house and assume the female role full-time. If you don’t understand full-time, I mean Raymond lives in the in-house dormitory and assumes the female role full-time. The BSers appoint a rotating female monitor who becomes her roommate and is expected to transfer her feminine knowledge to Raymond. And TIT imposes a requirement that both parties are expected to remain no more than an arm’s length or three feet away, whichever is closer or farther, at all times, that’s like 24/7 X 52 except for those special occasions. If the word is passed to The BSers that said requirement has been violated, honey, they link their ankles together with a length of decorative chain no more than twenty eight inches which will insure that both participants are never more than thirty inches apart, the same 24/7 X 52. Honey, do you know you can’t even change your bra when the chain is on you.

Each monitor serves for a period of thirty one days or one month, whichever comes earlier, a period selected to insure that it includes those difficult days. Honey, Raymond is going to learn a bunch of stuff like that, pleasant and otherwise, stuff that isn’t covered in any books relating to transformation attached or not. Like I said, 24/7 on a 30 inch chain. Oh, did I forget again, TIT is the Total Immersion Transformation program. And let me tell you, TIT is not for the hobbyist. The TIT is in it for the long haul. And did I mention that you don’t just volunteer yourself into the TIT program, The BSers prepare you for it through special features of the TiT program so by the time you become a TIT, there’s no way that you can go back. Hey, The BSers weren’t new to all this, they knew of that which they were doing and like I said, they got you by the short hairs.

In addition, TITs were put on a regular work schedule which allowed them considerable personal time during which they could do whatever it is that girls do. That is, unless the two were wearing the chains, therefore it behooves the two to abide by the rules to avail themselves of the free time. The TIT living quarters were staffed with male attendants, oh, they weren’t really males. Male slaves who did not show the proper respect nor attitude for their own programs were, unbeknowst to them, given medication which would eventually render them totally ineffective as males. Oh, it would take a little time for the full effects to take place but in the meanwhile, The BSers put them in a feminine environment which would serve as a constant reminder of what their lives could have been had they toed the line. Oh sure, The BSers had other jobs for them – like a cabbie who parked in front of The Club to be available for chauffeur duties or as a doorman in front of their high rise condo and as long as they maintained a manly appearance, well, they could be used as bouncers at The Club or their other venues. But if they lost the ability to produce any of the good ‘rone’ juices, then they’d pretty much would balloon up and all they would be good for was that proverbial ‘harem guard’, you know what I’m sayin’? They’d never got the yen to bother the girls though, ever. The girls pretty much ignored them, knowing that if things went wrong for them, they could be in the same boat, oh, with the endless supply of girls available to The BSers, you could never be sure that they weren’t going to play tricks on you, don’t you know. Again, having them around gave the girls the opportunity to explore how to meet their own needs. You guessed it, honey, you put girls together with girls and pretty soon, you get girls who like girls which is not a bad thing, don’t you know. Or is that strictly a male viewpoint. We’ll get back to that later.

But we digress. Back to the TIT Raymond who all of a sudden was Rachel without ceremony. And surprisingly enough, even Tricia was calling her Rachel as they both flaunted their goodies at their admirers. Rachel heard, "You gonna take off the tee and come down for some pictures, baby," to which she replied, "I’m not registered but give me a little encouragement and I’ll go get me a number." She was greeted with applause which she acknowledged with a small bump – she was glad that she had practiced that move but even surprised herself that even her boobies gave a sharp upwards lurch. "Excellent, excellent," she murmured to herself, "I didn’t know I could do that." She really liked the bounce that she could impart to her breasts. And now she knew why they were teaching her that model’s walk with the bouncy step – and oh my, now that she was topless, like I said, Rachel was a quick learner.

Sam and Van wondered how Rachel was going to carry it all off, she couldn’t be an escort if she also had a contestant number. It would be like the fox watching the hen house, or something like that. But they could both see that Rachel was competitive with the other girls and she certainly had the gall to carry it off. Besides, showing too much restraint would have gotten her the reputation of being too hoity toity, you know, a bit aloof. But Rachel could recall the many calls of, "Show me the nipples," which she could do with a trace of a smile.

Tricia and her girl friend Richelle, Rachel, Van and Sam made up the topless quintet. In deference to the early hour, they opted to keep their G strings on but honey, there’s a way to wear a G string and there’s a way to wear a G string. The girls all knew how to wear a G string, it was a competitive situation as to how low they wanted to wear it. Rachel hung with Tricia and her girlfriend Richelle – she liked the camaraderie of the two, Tricia who had breasts similar to her own and Richelle was a bit larger and a bit more hang. Understand though that hand and dangly are not the same in this context. I won’t even try to explain it but you will know it when you see it. Both Van and Sam could see that Rachel had the better nipples both as to size and coloration - the new bitch was going to upstage the two of them.

The five posed for pictures for their admirers presenting themselves with their arms wrapped around each other. Rachel was between Tricia and Richelle and oh my, oh my, they wanted them to be posed close, really close and oooooh, their bodies were soft and comfortable and cuddly as they sort of molded themselves into her. Rachel made sure that her G string was pulled as low as all the other girls and then pulled it down just a mite more, just so the top of The Kitty II would show. Oh sure, Rachel had some experience with that sort of stuff at The Club with the males but with Tricia and Richelle, it was an entirely new experience which Rachel just loved. Tricia gave her a little bounce with her hips and a grin as the grouping broke up. Rachel had never had that particular feeling before but let it slide. But it was a sensation that wouldn’t go away.

And meanwhile, the show was already underway. And Raymond could see that indeed, the dancers were bare ass naked. In fact, he was reminded that the rules of performance dictated that the dancer be totally naked during eighty percent of the presentation. Well, that should insure that the dancers got right to the down and dirty. Raymond didn’t think the performances were any different than at The Club. But he did notice that they applied themselves with extra vigor and responded to the requests of the crowd. Actually, Raymond saw a totally naked female do a back bend and do a reverse crab walk, you don’t see that too often. Well, actually, my thought is that not too many girls can do that and look graceful doing it. So what’s different, she thought. Actually, it was the number of girls who participated in a free-wheeling manner. But Rachel knew that they were not there to be spectators.

Rachel heard, "One of our models doesn’t feel well, can you send one of your girls down there to fill in." Rachel found herself at the low end of the totem pole. She tossed on her cover-up gown and walked clumsily in her heels down the gravel path (it’s tough to walk on gravel in spiked heels, don’t you know) and across the volley ball court where a tent had been set up. She saw the familiar signs, ‘girls, girls, girls’ and ‘naked models – your camera or ours. She could hear the banter of the barker, "Sure, whatever you can get the model to do will be all right." "Oh, the redhead, she’s new this year but she knows the rules. Why don’t you give her a try."

Rachel grinned somewhat at the patron and said, "Sure, sitting on your lap with my gown open, why not, that’s what the entry fee covers, baby." She heard in return, "You gonna wiggle your ass down in my lap, honey while they take the picture?" It would have been a new experience for Rachel but she gave the barker a nod which brought him post haste to her side. She heard, "Sure, everything beyond the first picture with her on your lap is extra, buddy." Some wanted the extras, others just settled being photographed doing a good feel up. Oh, it was nothing new for Rachel, she was doing that sort of thing all the time down at The Club but she thought that posing in a tent for a fee was a bit degrading.

But none of the males seemed to give her a charge. She sat crossways on their laps, sometimes sideways and even straddled a lap. She had to work quickly without seeming to rush as there was a line forming but she made sure that all the patrons got their moneys worth of her and she reminded them that her name was Rachel. She wanted to appear as appealing and accommodating as possible to the onlookers while she posed and made a big show of acknowledging any tips that she was receiving. When the barker had arranged for a special sitting, he passed the word to Rachel to give him a series of small wiggles or whatever. At one time, the barker flashed a Franklin and nodded his head in approval. Rachel tentatively slid the G string to one side and let him work his hand right down over The Kitty II. She kept his hand flush across the middle, the safest position so as to not wrinkle the edges where the makeup was on the heaviest. She placed her hand right atop his to be able to restrict his finger movements until the photo was taken and then gave him a close up and personal look at her boobs before sliding herself off his lap. She wondered how the new law restricting contact with a patron by imposing a six inch restriction on touching any part of her body with his would affect her performance at The Club later. She wondered if she was eligible for a part of the Franklin. She thought maybe she was thinking too much. But not to worry, folks, as it turned out, the Franklin was actually a shill for The BSers and he was going to be a no never mind for Rachel or any of the other girls for that matter. As it was, The BSers had shills at every one of their locations to insure that the girls were performing at their highest level and that there was no free hanky-panky going on, you know what I’m sayin’?

They had the tent going one year that I was there. The girls who were modeling were past their prime but they opened out my shirt and pulled their bras up against their necks for the shot. Oh, I think that is so tacky, either you take it off or leave it on. And yes, she sat on my lap and pulled my hand across her mid-section. She had too much dangle to her breasts which started out from under her armpits and smallish nipples which were set way off to one side. It was really a turn off for me but I had paid my money and took my chances. I thought I lost on that deal. In fact, the photo made things look a lot worse than it was. I learned my lesson. If it doesn’t look good going in, it isn’t going to get any better, oh, you know what I mean. Been there, done dat.

Oh just another caveat, if you take photos at that show in the midwest and you think you got the down and dirty, don’t take the film down to the local drugstore or photo processing center – you won’t like the techniques that they use to obliterate that which you had paid the big bucks to see. The bunch I hung with had an arrangement with a local drugstore manager who would stay after closing to run the film through. There was, of course, an extra charge but getting it done without the hassle was really worth it. That’s how they got the photos of my Mistress and me which I thought were excellent. And oh my, some of the shots of The Mistress were absolutely bee yoo ti ful. She really knew how to present herself. But other photos with other models were just plain overdone, you know, leaning towards obscene. But I’ll tell you, some of this new equipment properly used will take pictures which will show every little wrinkle and folds and stray hairs and like Patti will tell you right down to the minutest details down to you know where. Most of the cameras today come with automatic features which eliminate the need to focus or control exposure as well as fill-in flash when needed. Makes you wonder why it takes some photographer so long to take just one picture. I know but I ain’t tellin’. Regardless of the features built into the camera, the main fault lies with the photographer’s inability to hold the camera steady. Well, I can see where they would get the shivers, especially those who come to the nudie show but once a year.

Digital cameras again have the advantage of not needing processing but you need a different set of skills to work them effectively. And the early models didn’t have the ability to catch the details, some like photos of hair follicles and pores but I like to evaluate the whole enchilada myself. But again, I digress but I thought the helpful hints would come in handy some day.

Richelle had to break away from the group (who’s she, you say) and oh my yes, I don’t want to tell you about where I saw her next. But not to worry, I’m gonna tell you. I didn’t recognize her from that angle until Tricia nudged me, "There’s Richelle up there on the platform." Rachel gasped. She could see Richelle peering back through her legs at us as she held on to her ankles for balance. She called out, "Hey, Rachel, it’s me, Richelle," but even with my mouth agape, I could never have imagined how much you could see up in there from that vantage point. It was all there and the gallery directly in front of her were shooting right up in to it. I had never had a look from that angle before but I had to look for the experience. But I excused myself because I just couldn’t take it. They told me later that some of the other girls really used their hands to open out their crack but that’s just hearsay as far as I’m concerned.

I also found out what the lower platforms were – sure, they allowed for shooting from a higher angle of a reclining model. Oh, sure, reclining for sure but I thought it rather obscene to be posing just for the purpose of showing it off. Some of the girls could grab their ankles and spread their legs to their ultimate and still look relaxed twisting themselves from side to side. But they were doing it, lots of the girls were doing it – it almost seemed that they were trying to outdo each other in the various poses that they assumed. I saw one of them move from a position flat on her back to an all fours position, aw honey, you don’t get that many views of it. It had to be that wider was better (and I don’t mean in tires). Even amongst the mixed paying audience, girls could be seen opening out their tops for some informal modeling or just plain showing off. Some had it, some didn’t but it didn’t faze any of them. Me? I liked the ‘professional’ models the best because it didn’t make me feel as though I were sneaking a peak.

The winners were gathered on stage for the trophy presentation and photos. Actually, there were so many classifications of winners and runners-up that gathering the proper groups of winners was a real chore. Rachel noted that as she mingled that girls varied not only by tall and short, big boobs, I mean really big boobs, smaller boobs, hanging boobs, pointy boobs, trim waists, hippy girls, big assed girls - honey, they varied all over the lot and still remained within that acceptable category. It became more apparent to her when they were grouped and photographed side by side. Rachel had long ago conceded that boobs varied not only in size but in shapes, the projection, the hang and dangle, placement of the nipples – thighs differed in their tapers, waistlines were more pronounced in some more than in others, hips varied – oh, there was no such thing as a standard size. Rachel came to the conclusion that within a given range, given the KAT, most all were acceptable. Check it out, honey, check it out – the winner’s photographs are on the internet. Email me if you can’t find it.

There was the informal wind down time when all the players got dressed in their party best before scattering once more to their home bases. Talk about informal, Rachel was right in there with Tricia and Richelle letting herself get felt up and her cheeks massaged by the show staff, most of whom were too busy doing their jobs to sample the merchandise. Oh sure, it wasn’t the first time but it was the situation at hand that gave her that exhilarating feeling – damn, she enjoyed being a girl, never mind that the feeler could have been a shill for The BSers. Actually, the shills, most of whom didn’t know what was happening to them, were having their last fling before the chemicals did their thing on them – in other words, it was a one way street, Rachel was getting it on but the shills were just going through the motions. Again, she suspected that some of her admirers were not what they seemed to be, hells bells, they were working strictly from their memories of better days when they had it all going to them. Right on.

The BSers had also sent in their D team, oh, you know, they’re the opposite of the TiTs, that is to say, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander – hells bells, the D team, they’re dykes and honey, they tell me that noone is tougher on the GG’s than the bull dykes. That’s what they tell me, I wouldn’t know – but I’ll tell you, I still haven’t forgotten my first goose and that was way back in Chapter I when I was still Raymond, I think. I don’t think she was a dyke but if I recall, she very well could have been.

But now they were all back at The Club doing their thing. Rachel was now performing on stage along with Van and Sam. She still had lasting memories of the photo shoot that she did with Tricia and Richelle. She could recall vividly the sensation of having Tricia’s nipples brushing across her arm as she assumed her pose, accidentally of course, but there was a satisfying smile across her face as she did it.

It was Patti who drew the short straw for the TIT training. Rachel stayed close to Patti to avoid being chained together. But ofttimes, Rachel got the feeling that Patti rather enjoyed it when their bodies inadvertently touched during the course of the day. But by the same token, Rachel didn’t find it repulsive either, each situation sort of reminding her of the photo shoot that she had had with Tricia and Richelle. During the second week of their togetherness, Rachel tried to avert his eyes as Patti performed her two/three day preliminary personal chores. At the end of the session, Patti barked, "I’m going to show you this one tie and one time only so you look good and learn good. And I don’t want to go through this a second time. You’ll not only be quizzed on this session, you’ll have to write an essay for The BSers so you had better pay attention to every little detail. Like I said, one time and one time only. Got that." Rachel could only meekly reply, "Yes, Miss Patti."

Patti ordered, "Get dressed for the street, Rachel, we got to put in an afternoon down at The Arcade. The BSers provide the talent for the shows and peeps down there. Sure, we get the points for participating and the tips -–it ain't so much the going that’s a problem, the real issue becomes a really big problem if we don’t go."

Rachel loved getting dressed on her own. She was constantly reminded of the first time that they had fitted her with the demi-bra and it became the style which she wore the most. She always dressed in front of a full length mirror wearing her bedroom mules for what they could do for her legs and just so she could see the swells of her breasts swell out over the top of the bra, that was the lift factor. And then there was that gentle squeeze from the sides which created a much deeper cleavage than she actually had but that was the name of the game. She pulled on the matching bikini panty to cover The Kitty II and always made sure that both of her cheeks were hanging out, free to do their thing. She always liked the way her hip hugger slacks hugged her contours above the knees and the way they sort of cradled her cheeks. The blouse was off the shoulder which left most of her upper chest fully exposed. She liked that because it showed enough of the upper swells of her breasts to let them all see that she had them and the clear cut separation between the two orbs, that’s the top of the cleavage, dummy. The blouse was cut short at the bottom and stopped just above her rib cage leaving the entire expanse of her midriff bared. But she rationalized that it was the current style and style was important to the girls. Oh sure, jeans, sweats and sneakers had their day amongst the younger crowd but that was the cause of the demise of the high heels and the walk and the swinging asses which went along with it. Damn, don’t you hate to see women walking as though they were males. It was something that she would not have thought of when she was Raymond. She put on her dangly earrings, a choker necklace and some bracelets and incidental jewelry and stepped into her four inched heels. Patti wowed, "We’re only going up the street, Rachel, what do you want to do, upstage the nude dancers on the street?" But Rachel had gained enough confidence in herself to stand up to Patti, "I always like to put on a show for the boys, Patti, that’s what they trained me for." Way to go, Rachel.

Patti explained, "The BSers always build you up by sending you to the class operations like the nudie show but they also don’t want you to get a big head. So they’re sending you down to the low end to experience how the other half lives. And it was really a grubby looking joint. And the girls who were cruising through the aisles were not of the caliber that she had become accustomed to – actually, their approach technique for a potential customer was somewhat crude and forward, they didn’t have the proper tone to their voices, hells bells, it made Rachel feel so much superior. Even her mode of dress attracted a lot of eyes. Rachel concluded that there was a projected demeanor which counted for a lot more than showing off one’s goodies. Right on, Rachel, right on.

The manager was a stump of a man with an ever present cigar stocking out of the side of his mouth. He looked her over and laughingly cried out, "You look good in clothes, baby, and your tummy is nice and flat and your belly button is superb. But our clientele isn’t in to that sort of thing, they come to see the down and dirty. And your job requires you to take off your clothes and sit on a rotating platform. The platform goes around, the patrons put coins in a slot and they get to look in on you through an opening in the wall. Come in the back and I’ll get you a gown so that you can cruise the aisles and drum up business for yourself. And I’ll look you over to see whether you qualify or not." Damn, Rachel had heard that one more than once. The stump continued, "Later on, when we get busier, there will be other girls in the room with you doing their thing. The job on the turntable pays only a standard rate. If you get bored, let me know and I’ll see where we need another body." Swell, wasn’t that just swell.

Sitting on the turntable took no special skills. It was a small octagonal room with curtained openings in the walls. The turntable was small and didn’t give her any options as to where to sit. There was always somebody in the back keeping on eye on her to make sure that she was following instructions. At times, Rachel sat with her legs folded under her. She changed from time to time to let one leg dangle over the edge of the platform. To break up the monotony, she studied the development of her own breasts. She could actually even tell where she was growing and played with them rationalizing that she was putting on a show. She sort of liked the feeling of being alone. It was the same with her The Kitty II and it sort of gave her the incentive to spread her thighs just a bit. Oh sure, she took the time to run her hands over her charms pleasuring herself while at the same time give the patrons something else to look at. And when things seemed to be getting a little slow, she could hear the voice from the back, "Turn it on to a faster beat, girl, they ain’t gonna put the coins in the slot unless you give them a preview."

Rachel could see the curtains at the windows going up and then coming down. She could measure the level of activity by the sounds of the coins falling into the hopper. Oh, sometimes the activity was good, at other times only one or two curtains went up. And there was always a voice from the back who expected her to play to one window the same as she would for a full house. But the astute Rachel learned how to posture to the open windows as a means of enticing more coins from the patron. She smiled a bit more and used her hands to advertise her charms. Sometimes it made a difference, more often than not, none at all.

And in the evening when the crowds began to grow, other girls in G strings would filter into the room and prance around the perimeter within reaching distance of the windows. And the girls moved themselves closest to the open windows and aaaaagh, Rachel could see the hands reaching through the glassless openings, thus the term windowless peeps, don’t you know. And would you believe, the anxious girls would scurry to the closest window with a hand coming through and permit the hand to caress their bodies. Sometimes in their haste to get to an open window, one of them would get too close to a reaching hand – oh, you know, no big thing in letting their fingertips barely graze their thighs or ass or someplace else, but honey, you don’t want them to be able to close their fingers on anything sensitive place or not, you now what I’m sayin’? And the girls would stay at the window until the coins stopped falling or the curtain closed before moving on to another station. Rachel became only a centerpiece during the time the other girls were prancing about but the voice coaxed her on to a greater effort even so.

Rachel cruised the aisles of the pleasure palace, in the hopes of enticing patrons to patronize the one on one booth. She stood casually with her gown draped carelessly off her shoulder as she explained, "We go into the booth and talk and whatever you want me to do, I do." She got a few takers but interest quickly dwindled to a nothingness as the patron found that a glass wall separated the two within the booth and he had to talk to her over an inter-com. Still, she found herself opening herself out to maximize her earnings. She realized that she found it much easier to do now that she had the KATs, damn, it was the sort of thing that changed her entire attitude about, about being a girl that is. And she took comfort in that nobody was able to make The Kitty II. It was a fruitless effort but it gave her a lesson on how the other half had to live.

It was Patti who consoled Rachel with, "Stay with it, Rachel, one of the other girls complained one too many times and got herself a permanent job in the little theater upstairs. The told her that she would be doing three shows a night with extra shows on weekends and holidays. Easy enough, she though. What they didn’t tell her was that it was seven days a week, days off by mutual agreement (which translated means that she didn’t get any.) At the time, it sounded better than what she was doing so she agreed." Wrong!

"What the job turned out to be was that she would be putting on exhibitions in the little theater, three shows a night, four different ways each show, seven days a week. Oh damn, do I have to draw you a picture of what they wanted her to do. Honey, when you do the math on this, you’ll find that within the year, she would have done it four thousand seven hundred and eighty nine shows give or take maybe ten. Check out the math, baby, check it out. And for every performance, they kept a few extra males just in case the first one fizzled during a performance. The way Patti figured it out, she wore out one male per four performances. That would mean he would have had to get it up twelve times in an evening and honey, that’s takes one big effort. Worse still, a little recoup time and he’d have to do it all over again. And I say he ‘had’ to because he was a slave just like the rest of us and if he didn’t or couldn’t do the job, well, you don’t want to know what his alternatives were. Patti’s friend took the exhibition job because the alternative was going to be assigned to a street manager, better known as a pimp, where you had to make up in volume rather than the per entry charge. Oh honey, those quickies were going for twenty bucks a pop and the competition was really fierce and you really had to hump if only because the manager was on your back constantly. And when she had free time, she found she had to accommodate the manager. And oh my, he wanted her to innovate for him. Aaaaaagh, and he had an insatiable appetite." Rachel could only reply, "Thanks a bunch, Patti, thanks a whole bunch."

Patti mused, "In my better days, I could do three good conventional ones in one night given a rest in between. I didn’t get any complaints from my partners about lack of cooperativeness or that I wasn’t putting out. Sure, there are those who could do more but they don’t have to get themselves emotionally involved. They could be reading comic books while their partner was poking away, you know what I’m sayin’?" Rachel nodded her head but she really didn’t want to hear about it.

But they were teaching Rachel a lesson as to how the other half lived. It gave her more incentive to succeed as a TIT. For Rachel, it all depended on who the monitor was. She really enjoyed the company of Tricia and Richelle who became her roommates at the dorm where she learned that entertaining the males down at The Club was completely separate from her own persuasion. Again, The BSers had taken over her condo and were converting it to a pleasure palace for the high rollers. And get this, here’s the kicker, they had plans that put Rachel, Tricia and Richelle as hostesses there. Ain’t that a blast.

And Rachel was learning how the bookkeeping system for The BSers worked – oh, you remember, the girls got a certain number of points for working at The Club and other venues, turned in all of their tips which accumulated within their account and when they had accumulated enough points in their account to balance out their original indebtedness, they were released from their indentured servitude. Oh, and did I mention that Tricia and Richelle had completed repayment of the original debt and had their separation conference with The BSers. It was the Auditor who casually mentioned that they had accumulated some additional training fees, costuming and wardrobe charges, beauty shop charges not to mention their daily subsistence charges. The male auditor who they thought to be the meek and proper grabbed each of them by the throat and stood them on their tip toes. He sort of leered and mentioned, "You want out, I’ll give you out." Tricia and Richelle got the message and that’s how they came to be shipped out to the boonies and working the nudie cutie show. But now they were going to be assigned to the condo pleasure palace, and honey, pleased as punch that they still had their altogethers. The BSers really knew how to keep a happy staff. Did I mention long ago that you can’t have indentured servants because that’s tantamount to slavery.

But time flies by when one is having fun. Rachel had grown her very own boobies and her bodily configuration conformed to that of the classic naked nudie dancer. Her obvious male component had diminished and with the new and improved The Kitty II in place, she could readily carry it off. Oh, come off it, don’t be a critic, you show them guys that you got boobs and sort of intimate that you got KAT and that you’re willing to share the wealth with them, you got it made, you know what I’m sayin’?

But it ain’t over until it’s over. You remember the little blonde who was in the cab during an earlier sequence, what was her name again (Go back and look it up, dummy, I told you I can’t go around repeating myself but anyhow, I love you anyhow just for reading this far into the story), but you know about the B&D/S&M scene, well, She is the prime practitioner of that particular art hereabouts and ofttimes, The BSers used her to teach their slaves subserviency and obedience. Her teaching techniques vastly differed from the cerebral techniques used by The BSers but let me tell you, they were every bit as effective and permanent. Honey, you either learned quickly, or, or, or you wished that you had. I was a fast learner, believe you me.

They took Rachel over to Her place to renew old acquaintanceship and oh dear, She was as glamorous as Rachel had remembered in the cab. But in her own abode, she was dressed in form fitting black leathers which left a goodly part of her exposed. She carried a riding crop in her hand which she methodically slapped at the leather couch. Honey, it’s a sound which sent shivers up Rachel’s spine. And worse yet, Rachel rubbed at her cheek if only she thought that she had taken a swat back there.

Mistress muttered but clearly enough that they heard, "I liked that the first time I picked her up in front of The Club. And now she’s mine for six months. Rachel could feel her legs turning to rubber but heard a sharp, "Get over to that corner and take off all your clothes. And then come back and kneel right on that spot." Rachel could see that her own entourage had strangely disappeared. And now it was The Mistress and her. She could already feel the riding crop against her bared flesh which sort of urged Rachel to respond immediately to the commands no matter what. The instructions came fast and furiously, "Always kneel in my presence, maintain a proper posture and keep your head erect. We’ll talk about where to place your hands as we get into the training but the objective that we are going to achieve is that you will learn submissiveness and obedience. And all the while, she poked and prodded at Rachel with the riding crop.

Rachel shivered as she felt the tip of the crop lifting her breasts, damn, She was using the crop to sort of impart a bouncing motion to the breast. She flick the tip lightly across Rachel’s nipples and noted the pained expression on her face, "Oh, you like that, don’t you, oh honey, those nipples are going to give you so much pleasure." But moving right along, She moved the riding crop down in between Rachel’s thighs and flicked them from side to side. Mistress laughed and Rachel shifted her body position to permit a bit of separation at her thighs. She looked at The Kitty II and muttered, "Oh yes, honey, beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, you are going to be one big money maker for Mistress." And with that, she shoved the shaft of the riding crop right down in there and imparted a sawing movement. It sat Rachel straight up. Honey, you get the rough edges of the shaft down in there, it gets your attention, believe me. I’ve been there. Rachel knew right then that The Mistress was not one to be f____ with.

But how we get there is a story for another time. Like man, TV’s are OK, TV’s with lesbian leanings are really OK, dykes, oh all right, but gay males, pffft. How do I know what you are in to that sort of thing, you know what I’m sayin’? It takes all kinds, don’t you know.

Damn, training with any mistress worth her salt is an adventure in itself. Oh, it gets easier once you’ve conceded your status and learned the rules of submissiveness and obedience which includes learning that slaves are what their Mistresses wants them to be. Like I said, be you hetero, bi, homo, gay, whatever, I don’t know which is which, if Mistress tells you that you are lesbian, just cheer for yourself softly and do what lesbians are expected to do. By the same token, if she wants you to be hetero, I think that’s the boy/girl thing, play like it’s a make-believe thing and do what you gotta do and then go get the girl friend and hope she can make you forget the whole thing. To do otherwise would incur Mistress’s ire and believe me, you don’t want to do that, not even a little bit.

And honey, I got to tell ya, it ain’t always easy. Been there, done dat. See you in the next edition.

  

  

  

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