Parole or Punishment · Part 2 (2/2)
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that there was no way out of the store. When I tried to say something, she warned me to shut up while she worked.
I’m certain that not much time had elapsed, but it seemed like it took an eternity before the assistants returned with armloads of clothing and bondage toys. Within minutes I had been transformed. Of course I was already wearing panties and stockings, but they added a rose-colored satin corset and bra. They were slightly darker in color than the panties that I had stolen, but were a reasonable match. I looked down at my waist and was amazed at the change in my appearance caused by the corset, but at great pain! My waist was in a vice, and breathing was definitely more difficult because of it. But my torso was definitely feminine in shape, rather than male.
The garters hanging down from the corset were hooked to the tops of my stockings even though they were the thigh-high, stay-up kind. I must admit that it looked lovely. The bra really didn’t do anything other than add some lift from below as it was simply an open platform type. My small, dark nipples were left completely uncovered. It would have looked beautiful on any of my well-endowed companions, but on me, it looked absurd. A pale pink, see-through blouse covered the corset and bra, and hid nothing. Next came a hot pink skirt that was so short that the tops of my stockings and the garter tabs were completely visible.
In addition, the skirt flared out stiffly to truly guarantee that nothing was hidden! And finally, they completed my outfit with a pair of high-heeled shoes unlike anything that I had ever seen before. The heels were little more than thin spikes that provided no real support. But the part that I found most amazing was that the ankle straps that held the shoes in place were locked on with small padlocks! I wasn’t going to get out of those things without a key or a sharp pair of scissors to cut off the straps! They then belted me down to the chair again. Traci firmly warned me, “Behave yourself when out among my customers.
If you put up with everything that they want to try out on you, you’ll be rewarded with the panties and stockings that you tried to steal. However, if you fight them or resist in any way, I promise that you will regret it. As far as you and I are concerned, this is your parole period. I’m sure you know that parole violators are locked up for a long time.” I expressed my honest appreciation and gratitude. I was greatly relieved that she wasn’t going to turn me over to the police. But I was totally unprepared for what she said next.
She told me, “Since you are dressed up as a slut, you really need to look like one.” (I thought that I already did look rather trampy.) She then directed her assistants to make me look really whorish with the make-up that they had brought back to the office. They began by piercing my ears in several locations to give me a string of earrings on each ear. Shit that hurt! (Women actually choose to do that to themselves? Why?) The earrings that hung from my lobes were really gaudy and cheap looking. It felt weird having a weight pulling down on my fresh new piercings.
The blonde assistant also wanted to pierce my nose, but Traci smiled in my direction as she responded, “That’s a very interesting idea, Susie Q. We can do that to him if he misbehaves.” Susie sneered rather wickedly at me. I expected her to make a sarcastic comment, but she didn’t say anything; she just smiled. Then the redhead added an excess of make-up everywhere: bright candy apple rouge and lipstick, false black eyelashes, pink mascara and eye shadow, and heavy black eyeliner. It was finished off with a long-tressed red wig. And I don’t mean “redhead” red; it was shiny crimson to match my lip gloss! My reflection in the mirror that Susan held up for me looked rather grotesque.
I supposed that most street walkers didn’t look that bad! After slipping my arms and hands into fingerless pink gloves trimmed with white lace, they polished my fingernails with cherry paint. Yes, I thought to myself, I am definitely going to attract attention! I glanced up at the clock behind Traci on the wall. Fortunately, it’s only for less than an hour. Prior to escorting me back to the sales room, I was thoroughly fettered. My ankles were cuffed and hobbled with an 18 inch stainless steel bar, a massive stainless steel collar was fitted around my neck and locked in place, and a ball gag harness was strapped onto my head.
A bizarre strap at my waist was used to incapacitate my arms; they were crossed behind my back, the left wrist locked to my right side, and the right one was secured to my left side. A heavy, broad leather strap cinched my forearms together. And lastly, my hands were covered with leather mittens, tightly laced and knotted. Even though my hands were behind my back, it took only a second to discover that the thumb covers were stitched to the rest of the glove. (So much for the fingernail polish!) My arms and hands were COMPLETELY useless!
They even pulled down the panties in front and bound my throbbing cock. (It should have been shriveled up with embarrassment, but instead my organ was pulsing with a life all its own! My subconscious delight at being bound up in female clothing was extremely obvious despite my conscious frustration.) They encased my organ in a leather sheath which the brunette store owner took great delight in cinching extremely tight, pulling the laces agonizingly taut a little bit at a time, which made me wince from the pain.
The laces were then looped around my dangling balls and knotted behind the scrotum; the long loose ends were drawn backwards between my legs, through my anal crevice and tied to the forearm strap. The slightest movement of my arms yanked my sack painfully backwards. And as I soon discovered, it wasn't possible to walk without moving my arms at least a little bit! For the next several hours I was paraded around the boutique by the three stunning Females and displayed to every customer who walked in through the door. Because of me they stayed open for an extra three hours beyond their usual Sunday closing time of 7 pm.
The sales clerks both had agreed to work for free rather than overtime because it was such a kick to have a live model to display the products. During the time that I was used as a mannequin my bondage was changed several times to show off particular products to the customers. I had the extreme displeasure of learning all sorts of things about different types of gags; I decided that the penis gag was definitely the worst! I also learned that the French single glove was one of the most debilitating and painful forms of bondage that one can be subjected to.
In less than fifteen minutes, I was ready to be released from the torturous device, but I was well-gagged at the time so I couldn’t tell anyone how much pain I was in! If my arms had simply broken off, it would have been less agonizing. Fortunately, I was put into a U-shaped glove harness after that. While that device wasn’t as restrictive and considerably less painful, my arms were still just as useless! The end result was that Traci’s plan proved to be very successful as nearly every customer bought something! In particular, she confirmed her hypothesis that it is much easier to sell a whip or paddle if the customer has a real subject to try it on!
In three hours I experienced cats-o'-nine-tails, bullwhips, floggers, slappers, and a bunch of other things that I had never heard of. My buns received the maximal treatment when I was locked in a pillory. A professional dominatrix wanted something new and tried out more than a dozen different products on my well-displayed, up-turned ass and exposed thighs, burning my flesh with leather whips and floggers, and embedding wooden paddles and rattan canes into my swollen cheeks. Consequently, my ass was more sore than it had ever been before; it felt as though I had third degree burns down there! In addition, Traci claimed that she sold more nipple clamps that day than she did in most weeks.
My push-up platform bra and see-through blouse were perfectly suited to demonstrate a variety of agonizing little pincers! Sarcastically, after being informed of this fact, I thought, I’m glad that I was able to help. Now get me out of these awful things so I can get away from you nasty, devious bitches! At the end of the day, I was escorted by the blonde and the redhead to a large storage area in the rear of the store. I expected a final stern lecture and then to be released – at long last — from my bondage. I was completely exhausted from my painful experience, and just wanted to go back to my hotel room for a soak in the whirlpool bath and then into bed.
Instead of telling her assistants to release me and help me to get out of the clothes, Traci directed the ladies to change my outfit one more time. While I stood in stunned, frozen silence my legs were finally unfettered; but it was only to remove the nylon-lycra stockings and replace them with latex ones. The new boots that were strapped onto my rubber-covered feet and calves were at least a size too small. And the heels were taller than anything that I had previously been forced to deal with. The satin corset which I had worn throughout my ordeal was also replaced by a stiff rubber one, which was laced even tighter about my waist, crunching me into a more radically feminine shape.
Traci said with a smile, “Training overnight will be good for you. Corset training works best if it is continuous.” That comment struck me as more than a little bit frightening, but I was still too shocked and too tired to resist. As I struggled to breathe in the awful garment, Susan (the blonde) helped me to step into tight, high-waisted rubber panties, which she pulled up over the satin ones that I was already wearing. The extra garment was rather uncomfortable as it further compressed my genitals which were still bound up rather thoroughly. Similarly, my arm bindings were removed.
It took me only a second to discover that my arms were completely numb from hours of bondage, and there was no way for me to fight against them when they slipped my arms into full length latex gloves. A different kind of heavily boned mitten that forced me to ball my hand into a fist was used to cover each of my hands. Next I was laced into a leather garment that was incredible. It was actually a corset that extended from just below my chest all the way down to my ankles! (They called it a corset punishment dress.) When the laces were completely tugged taut, cinched, and tied, it was impossible for me to move my legs at all.
The stiff boning prevented me from bending my limbs or twisting or bending at the hips. Afterwards my arms were locked into heavy cowhide cuffs at the wrists and above and below the elbows, and secured to the sides of the corset dress with several thick leather straps. They, too, were totally immobilized. The devious mittens prevented me from even wiggling my fingers so my arms was once again hopelessly and completely useless. Next they added a bizarre latex bra with cut-outs for the nipples. Because it was about two sizes too small, it actually gave me the appearance of real tits, although rather small ones.
Because it was so EXQUISITELY tight, it made my nipples bulge outwards through the small holes. A vicious jawed clamp to bit down on each of my swollen, sore nipples like a pair of hungry Dobermans! I grimaced in pain, wondering how long I was going to have to endure this newest attack against my poor little buds. Then Traci inserted a small rubber sponge into each of my ears. The music on the radio which had been blaring out a song by Queen was totally cut off! After she had completed that task, one of the other Ladies handed her something and she stepped behind me.
When the redhead finally removed the penis gag that had been filling my mouth for the last 90 minutes I gasped for air; but my opportunity was very brief. Traci forced a well-stretched rubber hood down over my head, completely cutting off my sight and my speech. The inside of the hood was fitted with an attached gag to replace the plastic phallus. This one didn't seem bad at all. It was just a long, flat piece of rubber, apparently intended to keep me from moving my tongue much — or so I thought. After the hood was zippered and locked in place with a stiff collar, my arms were released from the belts that held them in place.
My thoughts were, Terrific, they allow me to move my arms, but I can't do anything with them. I can barely stand in these ridiculous high-heeled shoes, and I certainly can't walk anywhere in this awful corset dress. And even if I could walk, I can't see anything! But my "freedom" was short. Traci and her friends pulled some kind of jacket over my arms and torso. I could feel them pulling the straps tight on my back and on my lower arms. I suspected that it covered the wrist section of my mittens so the parts that were tied were further sealed from my access. My arms weren’t quite as numb as they had been before, so I tried to bend them, but was frustrated in my efforts.
My guess was that the garment was some form of heavy leather. Well, I might not have been able to bend my arms on my own, but the women worked together and did it. It pinched very tightly at my elbows and added another hurt to my body. Although I couldn’t see what they were doing, it didn’t take me long to figure it out. They locked me into a head and hand stock so my arms were totally deprived of freedom! The tightly strapped material pinched my arms severely where they were bent, and I groaned in mute silence into my gag. Then came the worst surprise of all: they pumped up the gag in my mouth, stretching my cheeks to an inconceivable degree.
My tongue was squashed completely at the base of my mouth by the inflatable gag so that it was impossible to move it! My jaws truly ached from the painfully extended position. The gag pushed my cheeks outwards while the well-stretched latex face mask crushed them from the outside. I couldn’t move my jaws at all. That pretty much ended any remaining thoughts of pleading for my freedom. My situation had become so bizarre; I could neither see nor hear, nor could I speak. The best that I could manage was a totally muffled, unintelligible grunt!
And with my body completely encased in restrictive rubber and cowhide, even my sense of feeling through my skin was severely restricted; all I could feel was the intense pressure and rising heat of the wickedly taut garments on every square inch of my skin. I could just barely tell that the women were still touching my body! That left me with only one usable sense: smell. And that was pretty much overwhelmed by the potent aroma of latex and leather! Next an elaborate harness was belted around my torso. I felt the belts being yanked tight. Then I was leaned backwards. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though I was being moved. This continued for a few minutes with a couple of odd stops.
I realized that I could be imagining all of this as my senses were deprived of normal input, but there was no way that I could determine otherwise. Then I had the odd sensation that I was spinning. I wondered if they were doing this to confuse me, although again, it could have been my own senses fooling me. But I didn’t think so as my head seemed to be swimming. Then I felt the sudden, peculiar sensation of falling over forward, but only slightly. I was tilted at an angle, facing downwards, based on the extra pressure on my already painfully-crushed toes. It was the only real sensory input to my blinded brain.
Heck, my mind continued to tell me that I was spinning, but the fixed pressure on my toes made me think that I wasn’t. I was truly confused. Finally, the spinning sensation died away, leaving me with nothing but the smell of leather and latex and the pressure on my painfully bent toes. And of course there was the unending sensation of being squashed in a vice. Every square centimeter of my body was crushed by that vice, and it felt truly unbearable! And there was nothing else. No more movement; no more touching; nothing. I was completely motionless; and I was completely incapable of motion. My fingers and my toes were bent in such a way that I couldn’t move them at all.
My legs and arms were sheathed in rubber and locked in place by thick leather. My nipples were on fire, and I could feel the blood pulsing in them, but there was nothing that I could do to reduce the pain that flared in my chest. Even my head hurt because of the tautly stretched rubber helmet that encased it. My ears, nose, and lips in particular were being crushed in ways that I had never experienced before, and I really didn’t like it. And of course there was an amazing pain down between my legs; my cock and balls were fettered and squashed, and it hurt like hell!
On top of all of the pain, there was the mental psychosis: I didn’t know if I was alone or simply being watched by my devious, wicked captors as they contemplated further abuse of me. In my sensory deprived state, I wanted them to do something, anything. The thought of being left completely alone, abandoned while so thoroughly trussed up was maddening, and it grew worse by the second!!!
Parole or Punishment · Part 2 (2/2)
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