The story is a fantasy built in four parts. Part three starts to get nasty so if you do not like bondage, cruel punishment, please leave at part two and go on to part four.
by Jim Rossi
Part 1 The Contract
All people are different, it seems like an obvious thing to say but the reason I say it is because you never know a person truly unless they wish you to see their inner feelings. Behind every seemingly evil and humiliating act is a good reason. Alternatively behind every good act may be an ulterior negative motive. Well enough with my theory on life, its time to explain how meeting my future wife would bring all the above humiliation, discovery and concluding joy with a most beneficial outcome.
First let me introduce myself, my name is Brian Thomas, nothing in that. Just a normal name you would see in any telephone directory, but if you look at the fantasy novel bookshelves next time you visit you high street book retailer it may just strike a chord. For you see, two years ago I was a wannabe writer, writing my stories with no commitment, structure or purpose. Now I make a living at writing, not a large one but a happy living writing prose for sale.
My previous job was in insurance, again not very exciting but it paid the bills. Here in this grey building I would meet the love of my life, or at least lust of the day. Walking in wearing a red, bright red business suit beside a fellow woman carrying paperwork. Her auburn hair flowed with every step; her voluptuous body seemed to ache sexuality step by step. Now I know what you're thinking. The red suited woman was the boss with the fellow woman the secretary but you would be wrong. The red suited woman, the future Mrs Brian Thomas sat outside the office as the paper-carrying woman entered.
For a fleeting moment our eyes met, just for a second with no intent made. That second stayed with me for a week until I plucked up the courage to say 'HI' to her. Her sweet sound of 'HI' back made me jump with joy. It would be two weeks later that she would approach me asking for something to do with work but those eyes of hers spoke of interest in myself, an interest she wished to pursue. At work every single and married man pursued her actively, always quiet and respectful I stayed back 'bottling' out at the last moment to talk to her. Others gave candy, flowers in the failed ploys; always polite, always prim and proper she would refuse but take the gifts anyway. This continued for a full month until she seemed to have enough of the stalemate silence between us and in a finely handwritten memo presented to me on the end of the Friday she made her statement.
The note read like this:
'I LIKE YOU.
YOU LIKE ME.
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO ASK ME OUT?
IF NEVER, THEN LEAVE MY THOUGHTS.
IF YES, THEN JUST DO IT.
Leaving her telephone number and name of Julie Bella.
Well presented with this proclamation I had no choice, so I rushed back to my desk and rang her. Thankfully she answered and a date was arranged for Saturday at the horse racing. Now I like to gamble but never a lot but at the track, she was making all kinds of bets and never once seemed upset to lose. She always seemed to go to the same bookmakers and never gave any money. Seeing her gamble like this encouraged my quest to lose my hard earned wages. Although never catching her up in losses. This only figured in my mind after we had left. That night she dropped me off at my place, with the first kiss being a small intimate affair before she continued home.
The Monday in work was altogether different. Our dating was private. Both of us agreed that no one needed to know our business bar us. The first week it was the usual things, cinema, and dinner with only the goodbye kiss. Two weeks on it was full blown romance, unable to hide our feelings of lust initially but then muted love made us the talk of the building. It never interfered with our work so what harm could it do.
Every lunch hour we would meet at the local public house for dinner and chat. Each moaning of the work that morning, each discussing private matters. As the beginning, some friends joined us but as the matter became more intimate they left. Soon no one joined us at lunch or for drinks after work for fear of being perceived as a voyeur. When not out dating, I would stay in my flat writing into the early hours, never showing anyone my work. Julie changed that. She enthused at my work when good, criticised when awful which it regularly was. She would encourage (Usually causing arguments) me to get it published but being a writer I enjoyed finishing the project but never had the will for the hassle involved in selling it. It seems a useless venture writing for oneself with the public never having a chance to call it 'SHIT'.
Julie changed this and my approach became more business like. Over time Julie explained that her parents owned several companies including bookmakers (this explained the gambling) and publishing amongst others. Meeting her parents was like a potential job interview, asking me about my writing and life, their impression of me seemed to be a nice failure. The mother would encourage me to use their connections for the works to be published, after all I had completed a 500-page fantasy novel and only two people had read it. Her father would harass me into giving him a copy and his permission to having it considered for publication. Being stubborn and stupid, I declined advising that I would get it published my way (Which was never). Despite when conversations came to this matter, they seemed to like me, which was nice.
As well as gambling in horses, greyhounds, casino, Julie liked to make personal bets to test her and others. I became one of the others, to be truthful the only other and this spirit of gambling spread corrupted me. Never would we gamble at work but outside we would dare the other with rising stake on anything. One minute she would gamble me to buy a pair of women's underwear and wear it home. Next minute as a counter dare I would dare her to go topless on the drive home. Always we would follow through on the dares so never to be seen the loser, for the losers prize was a weekend at the others beck and call.
Some times we lost to accidentally lose so we would have to do the dare, something we both wanted to happen. I'll explain in an example. I dared her whilst in a club to French kiss any girl I chose. Now Julie is bi curious but not lesbian and she refused. So that night we played a scene where I was the boss and she was my secretary dressed in short mini skirt to show her long legs, high 'FUCK ME' boots, again another turn on for me, miniscule black lacy underwear and white see through blouse. Her hair was put up and short sexy glasses on her face. Needless to say that night we made love many times, you see something we both wanted. Now her dares often for some reason involved me wearing women's clothes, at first I was curious then it got old very quickly. Soon all of her dares involved possible humiliation. I hated this possibility so I confronted her and for a while she toned her needs down.
At this time I had re drafted my fantasy novel, which I mentioned earlier, she read this, passed it to friends and family. All agreed it was worthy to be published but I declined, I didn't feel it was worthy of my work and was ready to redraft the 700 pages. It seems illogical and I was. So Julie came up with a plan, a series of dares in which if I won she would not mention my work again and we would be lovers only. If she won, I would move in to her apartment, quit my job (which I truly hated now) and sign her fathers publishing Contract Company as a writer. Also as a sub prize, I would be at her beck and call for a full weekend, should I refuse her commands the prize would be nullified and we would split. Julie added that the weekend would bring an added layer of trust to our relationship.
For some strange and unknown reason, call it male pride, stubbornness I fought and did every dare until she won. Also I did not want to risk what was special between us for some stupid bet or dare. Knowing my fear of humiliation, she dared me when in a restaurant to join her the ladies toilet. Taking a scene from the film 'Eleven Days, Eleven Nights' she told me to strip naked and dress in her clothes. I started to strip but when dressed in her underwear and seeing her silky low cut dress I refused and lost.
Julie sat opposite me that night, back in our normal clothes; she stated it would be the next weekend when her sub prize would be collected. She mentioned the matter of any refusal would be dealt serious punishment given by her and accepted open handed by me. That night before making love, I signed the contract to the prize and any punishment.
Part 2 The Weekend (Day 1)
Saturday morning arrived, under instruction I knocked her flat door (My key was removed from me) and waited for a reply. None came. I tried again five minutes later to the same result. For fifteen minutes I stood like a lemon on the door, her letter advised me not to sit but stand. Then action, footsteps down the drive, the postman recognising me made a crack about me losing my key, we laughed, me nervously as he put the post in my hands. Only one letter was for me, and it was a small envelope with key inside.
I opened the envelope, the letter read:
'Enclosed is a key for the door. Enter. When inside place the mail on the table. Lock the door but do not put the chain across. Sit on the sofa where a further letter is waiting for you. Place the door key on top of the mail.
Non-compliance of any tasks in this and any future letters will result in punishment.
A total disobedience will result in the breaking of our signed agreement
THIS WILL BE USED A FINAL DEADLOCK UNDER EXTREME CONDITIONS. IF ALL IS MET WITH SATISFACTION THEN NOT ONLY I BUT ALSO YOU WILL GAIN A LOT OF PLEASURE AND REALISE YOUR DREAMS.
So doing as I was instructed I placed the mail on the table with the key on top, found the letter, sat on the sofa and opened the letter. It read:
' Now you are inside and cannot escape without my permission. Strip naked, completely naked. Fold your clothes placing them into the wooden basket by the sofa. When done, lock the basket with the padlock atop of it.
When completed, proceed to the bathroom where a further letter will instruct you.'
Even alone, I was embarrassed as I stripped naked folding my clothes. Before starting I closed all curtains and windows just in case. Now nude I saw the basket and was in two minds to effectively lock my male clothes away by my own hand. I surveyed the room for any cameras but saw none. Finally after hearing a knock at the door, I placed my clothes in the basket locking as instructed. No more knocks came.
Now naked I went to the bathroom. Even if somebody answered I could pretend I was showering.
On the taps in waterproof bag was a letter so ripping the bag I read the letter:
'Now you are naked. Thank you.
To confirm your loyalty to our promise and me you will perform the following steps:
In front of you is a pair of scissors, razor and shaving foam. Shave of all your hair from your arms, legs, under arm and finally fashion your pubic hair into a neat triangle. The size is for you to decide
When this is done turnover the page'
I knew I had no choice so I covered my left leg in foam and shaved every hair from it, doing the same with my right leg and arms. My underarms were harder but I managed it quickly enough with no cuts. Then came the humiliating aspect, if the above was not already that. First I trimmed my pubic hair then designed a neat triangle above my penis. It looked really stupid but I did not want to face the punishment.
With this complete I turned over the page.
'I bet you look so sweet with just your triangle.
In the cupboard is a collar, place it tightly around your neck and secure it with the padlocks attached.
Remember failure is punishable'
I reached down into the cupboard feeling angry about the crack about the triangle. She seemed to mock me intentionally and hurtfully by the design of her own instructions and my actions. That was uncalled for. So angrily I saw the red 2-inch wide collar, attached to it by a piece of tape was a further letter and a small satin bag, the letter read:
'Well done you are a good boy. You will indeed receive rewards.
Place the collar on your neck and secure as asked before.
Now open the bag. Using the nail polish, decorate your toes and fingernails with the red varnish. Don't forget your thumbs.
Inside the bag is three lipsticks, chose one colour, the choice is yours and make your lips pretty for me honey.
Oh don't dawdle, as I will return soon with some friends who would love to play dress up with a willing boy. Have you ever served a Mistress whilst others use you as a toy?
When done go into the spare bedroom and when entered lock the door placing the key under the door in the envelope provided. That way I know not to disturb you.'
Panic overtook me now for a few minutes. Again the door was knocked breaking my panic. On went the red collar; it covered my neck making it hard to drop my head. As well as wide it was an inch thick. When placed on my neck I locked it with the small padlocks. Time was indeed running out, I did not want to be a plaything for anyone bar Julie so in a panic I did my toe and hand nails including my thumb in sluttish red varnish. Then as the clock ticked I picked the nearest lipstick without looking, for they were all as bad as each other. Pouted my lips as I had seen Julie do and covered them a bright sluttish red. The job was not perfect but it was I would do.
Voices were heard by the door, so naked bar collar with red nails and lips I ran to the spare bedroom locking the door. Scavenged for a minute before placing the key in the envelope under the door.
It was then, as I stayed quiet, as the voices got louder did I realise my position. Naked wearing makeup with matching itchy collar I had locked myself with no male clothes in a bedroom with no way of escape. I must truly this woman despite her hurtful insults on the letters.
"There's an envelope by the door," shouted a loud voice unknown to me.
Julie answered "Pass it here, it seems my friend has gone. Well lets go out to eat, he can join us later."
The unknown expressed a disappointed groan.
With that the front door closed. I knew then that Julie did indeed intend to make good on her punishment and that she was indeed serious.
Standing in the spare bedroom brought a draught of realisation and cold. Naked bar the collar brought Goosebumps either from the cold or fear of the next letter and its instructions.
On the mattress of the bare bed bare of pillows, bedding quilt or anything that would keep me warm was another letter:
'Well done, your are a good boy or is it girl now considering your painted lips.'
Another wisecrack, which made me irate, but I read on:
'Stay calm, I jest in love not hate.
The key inside this envelope is for one drawer of the drawers behind you. With every drawer brings a surprise. When that surprise is revealed - wear it. When all the drawers are open you will have a bed for the night.
I will return later but do not dawdle as if you fail, my friends will choose your punishment. If you succeed and the bed is made up, below the bed is storage area. You can hide there, inside this area is a padlock with keys which can be locked inside the storage area.'
Snatching the key from the envelope throwing the letter to the carpet, I tried the lock in each drawer until I found the right one. I have to say at this stage that in the room was a chest of drawers with 9 drawers, 3 wardrobes of varying sizes, a small, medium and large. All were locked. In the first drawer I picked up a bodice, red again with garter belt, attached to the garter belts was another key. So placing the bodice on my body, which was excruciating as my waist shrank 3 inches and causing a mini pair of breasts peeking up. Without thinking I hunted for the next drawer for the new key to fit.
The next drawer was found on the fifth occasion of trying, this drawer held red silk stockings. Placing them on my now bare legs did feel exquisite with my penis starting to rise but went down as I saw another key.
For thirty minutes I followed procedure until I was dressed up to the max and I mean 'Dressed Up'.
My body was covered in the aforementioned bodice holding up the stockings. The problem of the penis was solved with a rubber device covering my cold shrunken penis; strapped to the waist I was secure now. Covering this device was red minute thong covered up with red silk knickers. Atop my head was red haired wig in the fashion of pigtails with red and silver plastic tiara on top. Holding the hair in place was a rubber mask with eyeholes so I could see and a red ball gag in my mouth stopping any words exiting. Also the gags leather strap was also red.
I looked ridiculous but I had chosen this path by own actions. On the ball gag was a key and it could only be for the wardrobes, so I tried the large one and nothing. No entry. The same with the medium sized wardrobe until bingo the small wardrobe opened. In here was a selection of shoes, some were obviously too small some too large but as Goldilocks said the remaining pair was just right. The right pair at least in size was red leather high-heeled boots that reached to just below my knees. On they went, first removing the key inside the boots. This key opened the medium wardrobe, opening this door revealed, pillows, bedding and linen. Quickly I placed these making up the bed, on one pillow case was a final key, a key I did not have time to investigate as voices were entering the front door walking towards the spare bedroom door.
With key in hand I dived to the mentioned storage area under the bed, placing the key on the stocking tops, ensuring it would not fall into the stockings further (that was something I did not need now) I reached around for the padlock and locked the storage area under the bed.
The door opened with Julie's voice saying, "Well girls it looks like my friend has gone out again. Look the beds free if you kids want to have fun".
I hid trying not to move. I could not talk due to the gag, which now I thanked. Their voices became louder. Giggles turned to harsh tones as a lead voice, the voice who expressed disappointment before took charge "Strip her, gag her, tie her to the bed post so we can both fuck her".
I did not want to play 'dress up' or face any punishment from her friend, I did not want to meet them.
For an hour I heard every scream, groan, insult, bed squeak from above. My heart went to the girl for her suffering, even me in my locked humiliating state felt more for her than of my situation.
"You fuck her pussy, I want her arse"
"Remove the gag, lets see this bitch meet Mr Dildo"
I heard the above remarks almost making me ill, after all I could not be ill or else the ball gag would make me suffocate on my own vomit.
Thankfully the girl's torture ended, footsteps exited and the front door slammed. I waited ten minutes to ensure the coast was clear. When I did exit, undoing the padlock and creeping out, I saw a made bed and an envelope on the top.
'Well done Good ……. You have done everything so far I have asked. I am proud of you'
The blank was noticeable as it did not deem either sex, true I look like a woman in the attire I wore but I was a man, surely she knew that. I read further
'Unlock the remaining locked wardrobe. In this wardrobe are hanging suit bags with your nightclothes stored inside. The key will hang from one bag but it may not fit that bag so try to get the correct bag or else you will sleep in what you wear. I hear it will be cold tonight.
The big wardrobe is lockable from the inside so keep the key handy, as my friends may get curious in the middle of the night. Boy if they see you, they will think its Christmas. The big wardrobe as you notice has viewing slats installed, this wardrobe will be your bed for the night. Get comfy and a sight will behold you.
Good Night my little ……..'
I was expecting the end part and this saddened me. Thankfully the key was in my stocking top still, hell I called it my sticking top, was I enjoying this. I opened the wardrobe saw the viewing slats, they were angled so no one could see through from the outside but the view from inside out was clearest. As instructed, I grabbed the key trying one of the five bags - nothing. The third bag opened and I saw a red bunny babygro with bunny tail and ears. Putting this thing on me over the boots, underwear was demeaning. I started to feel sorry for myself and was almost on the verge of tears as I stared at my reflection in full-length wardrobe mirror. This stopped immediately as the front door opened and voices spoke loudly.
Immediately I entered the big wardrobe, dressed as a transvestite bunny I locked the main door and crouched down staying still. The same disappointed voice entered the room telling of letters and envelopes on the floor. This got me paranoid; if the girls read the letters I would be found. My brain worried me to near panic but seeing the poor girl stripped and tied to the bed through the viewing slats refocused me. She was early 20's curvaceous blonde with short skirt which when ripped off was nude. She looked in fear of the night's activities ahead, I also feared for her. That night the disappointed voice took the shape of a mask wearing bully, dressed in typical domina leather dress with the usual high black boots holding a whip.
That night the girl suffered even worse than before, I wont describe all of it as it will make you ill but I almost opened the door to help her when she held three thick dildos on her orifices as the other two laughed. Through all of this Julie never once entered the room to check on me of the poor girl. I almost left but knew what I would face in my position, call it cowardice or self preservation either way I stayed in the wardrobe trying to sleep, breathing through nose, which I was expert at due to the days practice.
Letters Become Vocal
That night in the wardrobe was horrendous; my stomach rumbled due to the lack of food, my bowels wanted to be released but I stayed in control, or at best possible under those extreme conditions. When I woke up it was silent, the bed was made with no evidence of the nights horrendous acts. All that was predictably on the bed was an envelope, I was getting pretty sick of this letter routine now, I knew I had one day to go of the is treatment, I knew I had agreed to it but now I wanted out. Out of routine I opened the envelope throwing it to the floor then read the letter within.
' Enjoy your sleep. Enjoy the show. You must be hungry. You must need the toilet'
The first lines antagonised me more for they were imbecilic jibes and regarding the food and toilet was just plain obvious. Regardless I read on
'Now go to the kitchen. All doors are open. On the kitchen table is a pair of scissors - this is to remove the collar. The bath is ready for you to get clean and freshened up. In the fridge is some food. You have an hour to get ready. When the clock strikes 10 am go to the master bedroom.'
Thankfully I was to be relieved, entering the kitchen I picked up the scissors sprinting to the toilet, or running as fast as possible as one can do in heeled boots. Ripping off the rubber device, I sat down and released my bowels, what a relief. Next I smelled the bath water, it was a rose smell, definitely feminine. At first I thought of changing the foam and running a new bath but seeing the feminine flowery flavours and the clock I got undressed including the wig, masks and clothing. I cut of the collar, ball gag and jumped in the scented bath water and bathed. Leaving the bath I knew I smelt of roses as I wrapped a pink and white bath towel around my waist as I entered the kitchen. Sure enough the food was on a covered plate, a host of fine meats, cheeses, bread with a bottle of orange juice. Tasting so sweet and delicious, I ate the food taking my time. I finished just as an alarm went off in the master bedroom. Placing the dishes in the sink I suddenly realised the time, it was 10 am and hell would start again.
Hell I would know would have a name today and I would know her so well
Entering the master bedroom, I saw something in here. It was a metal storage box covered with a piece of pink material, Pink seemed to be today's colour as opposed to red. The box was quite deep so lifting the top pulling back the material, I looked in. At the bottom covered by a Tupperware box was another envelope, how I hated these envelopes now. Trying to reach in I tripped over landing square in the box, the lid slammed shut and I was in darkness, with the towel outside on the carpet I was naked again. Scrambling around in the dark I removed the Tupperware container grabbing the damned envelope placing between my feet so as not to lose it. My hands then felt something metal so I picked it up, it was a strange shaped key, in front of me was a strange shaped lock so two plus two equals freedom.
This time stepping carefully out of the storage box, ripping the envelope. I started to do the tiresome routine of reading 'Her' words of command. All I can say is that the box locking did not help my mood one bit. To be honest I could have guessed the letter contents for lying on the bed was the following:
Pink Frilly Panties; White Knee Length Socks; White Frilly Petticoat; Pink Maids Pinafore with Pink 3 Inch High Heeled Shoes that held a padlock at the connector.
But I read the letter reluctantly just the same:
'You have dressed in the clothes on the bed. You have dressed in YOUR CLOTHES'
What the hell did that mean, my clothes; I had never worn this before. Irate I continued:
'Clean the house. Clean the mess that was made last night. I want it to be spotless. Do the lounge last; there you will be instructed further.
Remember any refusal can be punished. Any disobedience breaks the contract.
Entering the kitchen I grabbed some waste bags and emptied the bins around the house, in every bin was an envelope and those damn letters. Next was to clean the bathroom and toilet, on my hands and knees with the frilly petticoat swishing my legs on every movement. The kitchen was third to be cleaned, standing looking over town in this feminine attire as I washed glasses, cups. Drying and putting the dishes away, before mopping the floor. The beds were made, rooms vacuumed, glass polished until only the lounge remained.
I looked up and it was midday, time for a break so I sat on the sofa with the sadistic sight of another envelope on the table. Looking down, my, yes that right I called the clothes I wore MY clothes now. My pink shoes were dirty; my feet ached in walking in them. My white socks were not so white anymore, the petticoat and pinafore was dirty and I felt dirty. Knowing what I know now, I should have opened the letter and continued however I did not and my punishment would extremely sadistic.
For five minutes I sat down feeling pitiful until the front door opened with the poor girl who was abused last night (dressed exactly like me) sitting next to me on the sofa looking stern with a purpose.
"Do you want to break the agreement, YES or NO?" she asked with no emotion.
"No" was my single word answer said in a not so friendly manner.
With that she passed me a letter minus no envelope removing the former envelope from the table. At this point I was calm, like the eye of the needle I didn't know what to expect but if I did I would needed the toilet again.
'SO YOU REFUSE MY REQUESTS.
YOU WISH TO UPSET ME
YET YOU HAVE CHOSEN NOT TO BREAK THE AGREEMENT.
NOW YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.
NOT BY ME.
BUT BY MY, NAY YOUR KEEPER.
YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD ALL DAY
OR ELSE OUR AGREEMENT IS BROKEN
YOU WILL LEAVE THE HOUSE AND WE SHALL NEVER HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE OTHER.
IF YOU CHOOSE THIS COURSE, I WILL BE SAD BUT WILL KNOW YOUNOT ARE THE MAN FOR ME.'
Now reading this I was crying, both in anger and sadness. I felt anger that she could leave me over this matter. Also feeling sadness that I didn't want to lose the love of my life.
With only anger and in a voice not to be argued with my new supervisor told me to stand, with my arms together in the air.
"Kneel" she insisted.
"Who are you? I am sorry for what happened to you last night. Please have mercy on me" I begged with all my might.
"So you saw my shame" she paused "To you I AM HELL" ending with a sinister smile.
No more words to be spoken at that time.
Taking my hands she tied m hands together at my outstretched wrists giving no room to manoeuvre, taking black plastic cable ties se cured my thumbs together and did the same to every finger to finger on the opposite hand cutting of the excess plastic. Next taking further rope she bound my elbows together both above and below the elbow tying securing the two joints together. I was helpless with my arms reaching for the sky as if one.
Leaving kneeling on the floor she walked away before returning with a 2 inch thick and wide collar that had the d rings all around. Also hanging from the collar was a sign that read 'BAD GIRL', I knew this because she showed me before wrapping it tightly around my neck. But worse was to come, turning the collar around she attached a metal spike sticking out diagonally from its holder on the collar. Every time I tried to drop my head I was stung by pain from the sharp spike. Always smiling she ordered me to follow here, without option I followed her to the bathroom. Walking past doors was extremely difficult thus I had to bend down to enter doors as my fingers touched the frame; of course this made her laugh incredibly.
"Sit on the toilet seat cover" she commanded pushing a full baby's bottle of water into my mouth. I sucked down the water thinking that would be the end but it was not. Three more bottles of water were downed and now I needed for her to raise the seat cover, pull down my panties and let me urinate. Of course she did not and I knew should I annoy Hell I would be seen as breaking the much-valued agreement.
"Get in the bath and kneel," she ordered.
So without any help, she offered none I managed to stand in the bath hoping I would be granted permission to piss myself.
"I said KNEEL, anymore bad behaviour will be reported," she said making her point very clear.
Kneel I did, you know without your arms for balance even the slightest task of kneeling is treacherous especially in a bath.
Now kneeling I was fed a baby bottle, this time not water but milupa baby milk formula. I drank down the horrible stuff hoping for some relief, alas as I drank the first bottle held by her left hand, her right hand placed three more bottles on the shelf in front of me. I knew that was not for her, all I could was drink them fast.
Each new bottle of milk formula was drank in two minutes, bringing a comment from her that I was thirsty and perhaps I wanted another one. I shook my head. My kidney was at its bursting point now and needed to take action.
"Please Hell, I beg you, please let me go to toilet," I cried.
"So bad girl wasn't to go wee wee does she?" she asked me knowing the answer already.
"Yes" I thought and rephrased it "Yesssss, badddd Girrrlll wanttsss too goooooo weeeeee weeeeeeee".
Her demeanour changed from mocking to stern; looking me directly in the eyes she whispered, "I don't want to hear another word from you. Understand?" I nodded my head.
"UNDERSTAND?" she repeated. Rapidly I nodded my head for 5 minutes whilst a little bit of urine almost escaped.
"Now to allow you to wee wee as you eloquently put it, you have to beg me. Not with words but actions" telling my soul and my mind. Sitting on the toilet seat she placed her pink heels on the side of the bath and waited. Without her telling me, I licked her shoe all over then licked the heel. Shoes have a pair and so the other shoes were also licked.
Next she went to the cabinet, bringing a bag telling me to close my eyes and pout my lips. Strokes were applied to my face. I knew what was happening and would have cried but knew it would upset the woman called Hell.
Twenty minutes and she told me to open my eyes, twenty minutes of bladder pain, twenty minutes of humiliation, twenty minutes of lost dignity. I opened my eyes and I saw me, only it wasn't me. Lipstick covered mouth, eye shadow, blushers, all put on but to excess.
With that shocking image in my head she told me to stand. I stood.
"Now Bad Girl can go wee wee" mocking my previous forced expression.
Once the floodgates opened it all came out, Hell closed the shower curtain so no spray landed on her. The bath mirror showed the urine coming down through the frilly panties, down my legs to the socks to the shoes. I smelt of urine and cried like a big sissy, which is what I looked like.
When I was finished, she ordered me to turn around and face the showerhead, when done the shower brought a stream of cold water soaking me. Five minutes into the shower I slipped and hit my head on the bath, Hell laughed as the water hit me square in the face.
When the shower was over, she ordered and actually helped me out of the shower. I was shocked, maybe it was over, but no, the sun was still shining and the day was not yet through. She used scissors to cut of the clothes, collar and the bindings. How I wanted to hurt her but knew better than to do so. She then gave a standing wash and dried me with powdered talcum powder, in fact a lot of talcum powder.
Naked I was led to the utility room and the rubber device and new collar was reattached, I was told to stand still and kneel. Kneel I did as she brought my arms together as on, but not bound as before. Using several layers of industrial cling film my arms that were once two was now one, unable to move as I was told to enter the utility room. The utility room had a circular platform on the ground that spun around; there was a pair of high-heeled ankle boots attached to the platform. I was placed into the boots as the cling film was wrapped over my body as I stumbled in the boots. Soon my whole body was covered but this was to be the end of my suffering. She came back attaching my outstretched arms to a hook above, now I was secure, unable to move.
I have to say what she did next was pretty amazing and creative, not in a good way as I was the victim but brilliant all the same. Wrapping pink cling film around my waist turning the wheel, I now fashioned a cling film mini skirt, next she screwed up a large mound of pink cling film onto two oval balls and glued them to my Clingfilm covered chest. For twenty minutes as I suffered due to dehydration she fashioned using the red cling film a cling film bra. I was shown myself in the full mirror as she beamed with pride on her work. That would be the lasting image as a satin hood was placed over my head and a drinking funnel was placed in my mouth through the hood. I sucked down the liquid fast feeling better. Only problem was I needed to urinate and I did, each layer of cling film like a mountain side held its urine level before the excess dripped down.
That was it for me as the wheel was spun over and over again. A haze of dizziness over swept my emotions.
I heard talk through the haze of me being buried alive in the garden but Julie's voice shouted 'Enough' get him down and take care of him. A scolded Hell shouted back before a slap was heard. That was the last thing I heard, or did I hear it. Was it a dream, dehydration brining illusions or had my mind truly gone.
I truly do not know.
Part 4 The Consequences
I awoke the next morning, looking down I saw unshaved legs covered in little women's red bed socks, red chemise negligee and I could feel the silky feel of knickers, probably in red. I tried to rise but found no joy, trying again and my arms would not move. My mind started to play tricks on me, was I drugged, did I even have arms. The past two days events brought a whole set of imagination to, my mind was opened up to a strange sadistic new world of thought. I look back now and see it did me a power of good in my writing but at the time I was shit scared. Excuse the language but after the weekend I was still in shock.
Turning my head left, I saw I was in the master bedroom only the metal storage box was gone. Turning right, I saw Julie next to, anger built up in my head, why had she done that to me, why did she hate me so much to allow that. My eye glare to him made her back; she started to speak but knew not what to say. Instead she left the bed attempting to touch but seeing my angers stepped back. My mind had so many things it wanted to say, when I tried to speak nothing came out. My body tried to rise to chase after her, what I was going to do to her when I caught I do not know but instinctively I wanted to rise.
For an hour I stared and considered every sadistic thing I had suffered to do to her and that bitch Hell. I was glad she suffered that night, or did she suffer, did she enjoy the rough treatment. All these illogical thoughts came and went and returned many times. Julie came in blurting out her words of excuse but to me they were just blah blah blah, seeing no joy she left returning a few hours later. During that time, I wondered did I want to stay with her, for every angry thought I had there was a good thought in the background. Every humiliation I suffered, a new way of thinking was brought to my senses. Every piece of women clothing I wore brought a new sensation, a new understanding of the women's lifestyle. Whereas before I just imagined how hard it was to walk in heels, now I knew.
Every negative has a positive aspect; sometimes it takes longer to work. I looked back on everything I suffered, the clothes, the humiliation and the embarrassment, what did I really suffer? A few tears, no kidney damage as I feared, and now I was able to pursue a professional dream of being a writer with a contract already prepared. Then my mind thought of Julie, the words she had used, insisting it would bring a new trust to our relationship, a more expansive version of love. In a few hours I had gone from hating to love her for the defence of me against Hell when on the cling film platform. It was her games that got me to this point where I felt more open with others and myself. After all if I could survive that ordeal, talking to publishers would easy, it felt strange that even though I had an element of anger, it seemed to dissipate quickly.
The next morning I could feel one hand free, that night I heard Julie crying on the sofa, crying she to sleep. Did I feel guilty - hell no. Did I feel sorry for her - initially hell no but after a few minutes did I want to rush and hug her- hell yes.
All night I barely slept but in the end I came to this rational:
Julie had opened my eyes to a new world.
She had forced me to open up a new confidence and find the person I wanted to be.
She had broken down a mental wall that held me back.
Finally if we could survive this, we could survive anything.
I felt hard done by, still felt that it was too much to go through to come to that conclusion but damn it life is hard, without hardship life is meaningless. You don't learn lessons by staying the same or always being happy; you learn by suffering and suffering to some degree I sure did.
The question I had to ask myself was: Was I a better person now than on Friday. The answer was yes.
That morning I read the letter in my one free hand, I knew why I could not talk as my head cleared, the ball gag was inserted to avoid any harsh words leaving, now I am glad it was installed but still it felt really uncomfortable.
Her letter read:
Things did not go as I planned. Things went too far and I deeply apologise for that. I thought it would be a bit of fun seeing you forced to dress as a woman knowing how you hate it. I thought seeing you clean my house and rush into panic at the thought of being humiliated would be interesting for both of us.
On Sunday, I pushed it too much. I did not know you would be humiliated like that. I did not know you would be abused like that. For that I am truly sorry.
I have no other words to express myself but SORRY.
I saw your eyes when you woke and it scared me, I saw the anger deep within. I saw that you were not the soft, nice man that you presented and it scared me. I know we played games with each other but I always thought I knew when to draw the line. Apparently I do not. I do not like to be the person you saw on Monday morning through those eyes of hate.
I will be at my parent's home for a week; I called in sick for both of us at work. You are not expected in this week. I do not want you to contact me until next Monday when we will both be I work. If things are okay between us, please let me know at work. If I do not mean anything to you anymore I will understand and hope that next Monday we will not talk or make any contact.
Finally should you wish for us to split apart, I hope that you take the contract offered by my father, this has been offered based on your work alone, nothing more. Do not ruin your talent and your passion for me.
There is nothing more to be said.
The keys to the locks are in the envelope. The ball gag is not locked.
Again I deeply apologise
I read the letter in tears from the first line. In every word I saw her writing with tears in her eyes. I knew we had to be together; such connections are not made every day.
For that week, I undid the locks and tried to be normal, the urge to call her was great but I managed it. The rooms in the flat still held fear for me so I conquered them physically and mentally. By entering the wardrobes, spare bedroom, storage areas, and utility room I felt refreshed. By Friday I knew I wanted us to be together. I knew it would take time to get over the past weekend, some trust had gone and would take time to be rebuilt but I was sure we could do it.
That Sunday I wrote the letter on paper first in the utility room, a sick king of pilgrimage if you will.
On Monday I handed in my notice giving a weeks notice.
On Monday morning I avoided seeing Julie and made sure I worked elsewhere.
On Monday after lunch I placed a letter on Julie's desk.
My letter to her read:
'You opened my eyes to a new world.
You forced me to open up a new confidence and find the person I wanted to be.
You broke down a mental wall that held me back.
If we can survive this, we could survive anything.
I felt hard done by the weekend, I still feel that it was too much to go through to come to that conclusion but life is hard, without hardship life is meaningless.
You don't learn lessons by staying the same or always being happy; you learn by suffering.
The question I have to ask myself was: Am better person now than on Friday?
The answer was yes and it's thanks to you.
If you want to be together again and work on our relationship, then I am happy to do so.
I have accepted your fathers contract and start work for him next month.'
It ended with the same words she used on her first letter:
'I LIKE YOU.
YOU LIKE ME.
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO ASK ME OUT?
IF NEVER, THEN LEAVE MY THOUGHTS.
IF YES, THEN JUST DO IT.
That Monday I headed for our apartment, and waited for her to return. I waited every evening until Wednesday when she did return. Some harsh were spoken by both sides, it was agreed no more contracts or dares were to be attempted until the trust had returned. That night I slept IN the spare bedroom bed and not UNDER the bed. She stayed in the Master bedroom. We conversed and started again, going for lunch and meals. It took two months until we were back to normal. That night I wore the same red bed socks, same negligee, and panties and was tied to the bed however this time it was for fun. She kissed me all over lowering the nightie until reaching my penis, rising erect through the silk panties. I won't divulge too much information but 90 minutes later, we were too tired to do anything but sleep.
Finally the greatest day came, my fantasy novel being published, at first sales were slow but word of mouth spread, it never became a best seller but it earned me enough to be happy.
18 months after the disastrous life-changing weekend, we were married. Happiness was personified.
We still gamble but very much less now. We still dare each other but the unspoken rules are very much complied to.
We are happy and nothing can beat for we will fight to keep us alive together.
All I know is that the woman known as Hell is no longer in our circle of friends.
Thank you for reading my life
Mr & Mrs Brian Thomas
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