Consent Ch. 07

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

(1) This is fiction. Don't take it too seriously.

(2) These characters are pretty fucked up...but who wants a story about normality?

(3) This is chapter 7. Best to read what goes before. But for those who need their immediate jollies, the following is a summary: Unemployed Jack responds to a web ad to be a model for a fem-dom porn site. He is following a secret fantasy and finds that he becomes hypnotized by all of it, being hopelessly drawn in not so much by the dominatrix Johanna, but by his own needs, and much like swimming too close to a whirl pool, there is a point of no return. No matter how hard you swim.

(4) Some of this is nasty, but it's meant to be, to show something dark hidden within human nature. If you read the whole story (all chapters) I have tried to make this believable to see how it could actually unfold for the right person at the right place and the right time. Could it be you?

*****

Jack slept the full night, and didn't even realize that Johanna had checked on him twice to make sure he was okay. The pain killers had been heavy and numbing so he wasn't really sleeping; he was, in a sense, unconscious. As a result, when he woke up, he didn't feel rested and in fact was confused as to why he felt stiffness and his hands were restrained behind his back, with a noticeable pain in his buttocks area as well. He tried to move and yelled out faintly.

"Jesus!" he said, "What the fuck?"

Trying to sit on the edge of the bed required that he go onto his side, bend his legs and roll to a seated position, but the pain was too much. His mouth was dry and his head ached. Slowly the memory of his treatment came back to him, and as he continued to lie on his belly, he turned his head from side to side in the gloom of his cell, sighting its limits, the bars, the walls.

For the first time since he had consented to be Johanna's slave, he felt fear, real fear. Physical and damaging punishment had been administered to him, and he realized something. He wanted out. That was what he had been trying to remember before. She had asked him on several occasions if he wanted to stay in training to be her trannie slave, and every time he had said yes. Now he wanted out.

Then he recalled the orgasms that he had been given while displayed as a BDSM sexual prop yesterday, and he wavered. How could he have orgasms while he had been in so much pain and suffering such humiliation? He didn't know the answer to that. He wanted to, but he was coming to realize that his orgasms seemed to be independent of, and perhaps opposite to, rational thought. In a sense, he was bipolar, fluctuating between deep valleys of misery and breathless heights of ecstasy.

No matter. He had to get out. They could kill him...or worse, he could lose himself here and become something he had no intention of becoming when he "enlisted". He could actually BECOME a slave, not some fantasy-driven bit of drivel that fantasy writers always alluded to on fetish websites. He could feel that he was losing little bits of himself as his training went on, and he had been here only three days...or was it two? No...four?

No matter. He had to... God those orgasms were amazing!

His hands were hot and sweaty inside the rubber bondage mitts tethered behind his back, and he wiggled his fingers just to see if he could. He felt hungry, thirsty, was wounded, and was getting weaker both physically and psychologically. When she asked him today, he would tell her he wanted out. He would go back to his life before, and he...would...he would...well, he would start again, find a job, get an apartment, and meet some friends.

But these orgasms...Jesus they were amazing. Where would he find those again?

No. He had to tell her. When she asked, he had to. He squinted his eyes. He had to be dreaming. This had to be some sort of dream or nightmare.

When he awoke for the second time, he felt a cream being spread softly on his damaged buttocks and it felt cool and soothing, not even stinging. His eyes fluttered open.

Johanna whispered, "I have some more pills, and I have breakfast. Can you sit up?"

Poorly formed words tumbled out of his dry mouth. "I'm firsty," he said. He had to deal with this. It was no dream.

"Okay, I'll unlock your wrists and help you sit up. I have orange juice and coffee."

After unlocking him, his arms flopped down to his side, and then he slowly extended them in front of his head, testing, and tentatively stretching his cramped muscles. They felt useless. Johanna removed the bondage mitts and a coolness wafted over his sweaty arms and hands. After a few moments he lifted himself up on his elbows and tried a turn to his side but the pain was too much once again and he yelled out.

"Okay," Johanna said, "I see that Yvette may have caused some deeper tissue damage with the cane. If you can get to your hands and knees, I'll stack some pillows under your belly so you can at least stay in the doggie position while you eat."

Several minutes passed where he tried many iterations of the suggested position. Finally, after Johanna brought in more pillows, he was comfortable. She let him sip some orange juice and take some more pain killers before she put the omelet down in front of him on the bed so he could eat what he wanted of it.

He ate ravenously, and while he did so, she inspected him. His girdle had been removed before he had been laid down last night, but the end of the steel anal plug was still inserted and visible, protruding out from between the red and purple striped cheeks of his ass. The beating had been well done...painful, but effective as a deterrent to any future disobedience, and no long term damage (at least physical) was administered. Flesh was not broken and he would recover quickly.

His pink bra was still in place, and his position on his belly flattened the silicone breast inserts slightly. His makeup was a mess.

It had been a good idea to bring Yvette and her two slaves over for the day to observe Jackie, and it had also been a perfect lesson in obedience when he resisted the scene which had been prepared for him. Spilling the coffee had been a predictable final trigger that Yvette had been looking for and she handled it well, just like she had handled Johanna many years ago when she herself had been trained by her.

Naturally dominant, Johanna had wanted to experience the submissive side, in order to better train future submissives for herself. Yvette had said it would be a good idea, but Johanna didn't really believe that she could be dominated by another person. Hesitantly, like a person who doesn't believe she could be hypnotized, she entered Yvette's world and a few weeks later was astounded at the way she had been transformed. She acceded to Yvette's every whim, and when she was finally released from her services, she was actually sorry it had to end, and slightly afraid that she had lost her dominant touch.

But like a dog that was obedient to only one master, Johanna had nothing to fear on that issue; it only strengthened her fantasies with regard to sexual domination of others. But the imprinting with regard to Yvette had been permanent. Johanna still called her ma'am, and submitted to her totally when in her presence.

She smiled when she recalled last night. Yvette, ever the teacher, had told her to release Jackie and put him in his cell and come back quickly. It was like she had never left her slavery when she was instructed to take Jackie's place as the human coffee table, herself skewered with two new artificial penises, the one behind penetrating her anus, leaving her vagina free for play. She didn't resist, and obediently and silently took her position as the hostess piece of furniture. It had been a difficult task to endure all the orgasms administered to her while not spilling the wine glasses resting on her back. It had been exquisite. And she felt honored to be a good slave to Yvette.

Now the dominant one again, she had to care for Jackie and nurse him back to health. And the timing was perfect; Jackie's wardrobe was ready, a full inventory of panties, stockings, pantyhose, D-size bras, girdles, garter belts, skirts, blouses, dresses, high heeled boots and shoes of numerous types and styles, and even new bra inserts reflecting Johanna's choice of breast size. The only parts that were missing were the corsets and supplemental padding necessary to feminize Jackie's figure.

"Ma'am?" Jack asked hesitantly.

"Yes Jackie," Johanna said as she shook off her fantasies.

Jack felt nervous. After all, he had consented, even promised in a way, that he wanted to be her slave. "Umm, I need to talk to you," he said.

Uh-oh, Johanna thought, sensing what was coming. Being quick witted, she changed plans to avert a difficult situation and said, "Well sure we can talk, but first I want to show you something. I bet you've dreamed of this in your past, and now your dreams are about to come true. Hold on. I'll be right back."

The pain killers were quick to act. Jack was feeling better already and he even experimented with sitting on the edge of the bed. Some experiments fail, and this one did, as he fell back on the pillows in discomfort and some pain, although it was clearly diminishing. She had changed the subject and taken the wind out of his sails, and now he waited for her surprise amid his already weakening resolve and courage.

By the time Johanna arrived back in the cell, twenty more minutes had passed, and Jack's pain was substantially numbed. He even stood up shakily as she repeatedly entered the outer door with bags and boxes of clothing.

"I'm having Geoffrey bring you an extra bureau for your cell just during your training so you can store all your new clothes...oh, and a type of wardrobe closet so you can hang your dresses and skirts and blouses up."

She waved her proximity card at the cell door and walked in, plunking bag after bag of Victoria's Secret bags at his feet. He stood in silence and looked at them in awe.

"These are mine?" he asked.

"Bras, girdles, garter belts, stockings, panties. Corsets will be here in about two weeks. All yours. A new beginning Jaqueline...a whole new beginning. Remember when I interviewed you? Remember how you felt? So lost. Remember?"

He did remember. He remembered feeling relieved that someone else finally knew about his bizarre psychological baggage, and was willing to accept it. He remembered the weight of that baggage being lifted off his shoulders. That was ages ago.

"Yes. I remember," he said pensively, as he reached into a bag and pulled out a stunning D-cup white bra with pink lace trim as a décolletage for some as yet unseen low cut blouse. He felt the smoothness of the cups and the Lycra-spandex band, and then instinctively smelled the femininity of it, an indeterminate perfume never found in men's clothing. That smell always thrilled him and it still did. He looked down at the bra he was wearing at the moment and saw that it was dirty, probably from the scene that he had been forced to act out yesterday. He looked at Johanna as if to ask permission to change bras right now.

"After your shower. No enema today, but leave your anal plug in. It might actually help you to have a girdle on today, sort of like a compression garment to support your healing muscles. So, after you get cleaned up, I'll help you choose your outfit for the day. You don't have to be a model or prop today; you can come out to the main part of the house and just enjoy being a girl. Sound good?"

"Really? Outside the dungeon? You'd let me out?"

"Sure. Why not?" She sat down on the end of the bed, crossed her arms and said, "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

He reached into another bag and pulled out a pink body shaper with boy-cut legs and with straps that went over the shoulders, but there were no bra cups. It was tiny in his hands and he could only imagine how that would stretch and compress his torso, a delicious second skin, like a hug.

Excitement kissed him. He smelled the corselet and placed it back in the bag. "Corsets. Yeah, I forgot about that," he mumbled, his mind unfocused and wandering in fantasy and drugged haze.

The room filled with misty thoughts and muddy uncertainty. "What?" he said, his mind skipping backward.

Johanna chuckled and shook her head. He was losing it. "You wanted to talk to me about something?" she prompted.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, about yesterday. Uh, is that, I mean, is that what this is all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am I going to be used in SM videos, you know, like the whipping yesterday?"

"Oh, heavens no! That was a punishment, that's all. I assume you've learned your lesson?"

"Punishment? For what?"

"For being disobedient. You resisted the bondage and you spilled her coffee. Slaves can't be allowed that luxury. You have to at least attempt to be perfectly obedient."

Jack had a puzzled look on his face. "Really?" he said, "This is all just fantasy shit, right? It has to be, right? Because if it's real..." He stopped and let the statement hang.

Johanna sighed and shook her head slightly. "You like the clothing?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously, wondering where she was going with that.

"Well, that's your fantasy."

"Yeah. So?"

"The rest is MY fantasy. And that makes it real. It's your reality now. Get it?"

"You mean...like I really am a slave."

"Exactly."

"And if I don't do exactly what I'm told, I get punished?"

"Yes." She didn't offer any descriptions to the answers. The answers were the answers.

"Seriously? I'm not sure I can do that."

"Okay, that's fine then," Johanna answered, "Just be obedient and you won't get punished. It's really very simple. Or you can try to leave. Now."

Jack looked at her in disbelief and said, "TRY to leave? This is another one of those "consent" moments, isn't it?"

Annoyed, but stifling it as best she could, Johanna said, "Jackie, I don't NEED your consent any more. I'm asking for it as a courtesy. First, you cannot leave; second, you may not leave. And if you're not good at grammar, "cannot" means "unable to", and "may not" means "not permitted to". Either way, you're not leaving."

Jack's wind had been knocked out of him. Again. He visibly sagged while glancing over his domain of endless bags of women's clothing meant for him, all the stuff of his dreams. He would never admit the fantasy, but he looked at her and said the equivalent, "Jesus! It's true then? I'm being kept as a slave? I mean...a real slave? No more consent...and I can't leave?"

She answered cleverly, "No, I won't permit it. You are my slave. Admit it and we can just move on."

Jack held his hand to his mouth as if he had realized a fatal mistake, but in breathless shock, he mumbled, "Oh my God! I don't have any clothes of my own...male clothes. And...and all this..." He waved his arms over the Victoria's Secret bags, "all of this is mine to wear. From now on?"

He turned and limped back to his bed, gingerly sitting down. "Oh my God! I am! Oh my God, oh my God... It's fucking real?"

Johanna didn't smile, although she wanted to smirk in the victory. She simply asked, "Do you admit now that I actually own you and you are my slave?"

Jack stared her in the eye for a long time before losing that battle and bowing his head. He was too weak to resist, both on a physical and psychological level, and he finally came to realize that.

"Yes ma'am."

"Yes ma'am what?"

"Yes ma'am, uh, I am your slave...actually your slave. Oh my God!" He looked down at the floor.

This was real progress, Johanna realized, but she pushed even harder. "And slaves are...?" she prodded.

"Stupid?"

Johanna burst out laughing, almost ruining the scene. "Think! Think about it!"

"Obedient I guess."

"Obviously, but when you are a slave, you are...?"

Jack struggled. "Umm, I'm owned? By you."

Johanna smiled in conclusion. "Finally! You get it! You're my property. Okay then, enough of this nonsense, do what you have to do, shower, shave your legs and underarms, and I'll sort out all these clothes while you're getting ready. It's going to be a great day Jackie, just a great day."

Indeed, the girdle did make Jackie's buttocks feel better, and the beauty of the new underwear changed his mood as he watched his new breast forms bounce in the new bra, and he felt the pull of the stockings on the garters when he leaned over to try on the new 3-inch pumps. After Johanna had done his makeup and attached his wig, she chose a simple black dress which stretched over his torso and down to below his mid-thigh. The pink lace trim of the bra he had originally admired peeked out nicely from the plunging neckline of the dress.

She looked at him in the mirror and smiled. He reflexively touched the corner of his mouth with his manicured red fingernail and removed an imaginary stray lipstick smudge.

As they left the dungeon and walked down the long hallway into the reality of the kitchen and the brightness of the Great Room, he marvelled at how easily he was walking in the high heels. He checked himself out in every mirror, and his fears after being flogged by Yvette seemed to be in the distant past. He could have all this. All he had to do was be Johanna's fantasy transvestite and an obedient slave, and all the hurt would go away and stay away.

As the day wore on, they talked. It was small talk, nothing with gravity like the earlier complexities. Johanna served him lunch and supper, and in between he was shown the house in its entirety. Periodically, Geoffrey joined them for a drink and he was there for supper. Everything seemed so bizarre that it became normal in its consistency. Jack was getting accustomed to paying attention to Johanna's every word and answering her with dutiful and respectful phrases. Resisting was futile, and submission became comfortable, perhaps even luxurious, like a pillow in front of a fireplace. A warmth spread over him as he studied his place in this environment, a secure predictable feeling of serving a purpose.

She constantly corrected his posture and minor nuances of feminine etiquette, like holding his hands in his lap when he sat, with his knees together and his ankles crossed. Even while standing there were exhausting changes he had to make. Elbows in. Shoulders back. Thumbs forward and ever so slightly tilted outward, not touching the hip. Legs together. So many things to remember. But it was a joy to learn, because even while criticising, Johanna also praised, and that pleased him.

And walking with correct femininity seemed impossible. Nothing could quite please Johanna on that issue and she became exasperated to the point when after supper she said, "You have to master the female walk. You just have to. The corseting will help, but I think instead, I'll give you to Louise for a day. She'll make it right."

"Yes ma'am." He was disappointed that he hadn't pleased her. "By the way ma'am, who is Louise?"

"The video expert. You've seen her doing close-ups of your face when you're in pain or having an orgasm. But she's also good with femininity training, despite her fetish for rubber. Would you like to be a rubber doll for a day or two?"

"Umm, not particularly ma'am." He didn't really know what being a rubber doll meant, and then he remembered what he needed to say, "But I will if you want me to."

"Good answer, wouldn't you agree Geoffrey?" He had just walked in and he had a dreamy look about him as he sat down on the sofa in the Great Room.

"Yes ma'am," he said automatically, not having the foggiest idea what she was talking about.

Johanna laughed and took a sip of wine. She said to Jackie, "Geoffrey has been a rubber doll all day for one of Louise's scenes with a gentleman from Seattle. He's been fucked so many times in the ass today that he may appear a bit dazed. Isn't that right Geoffrey?"