Decent Into Beauty: Part 3 free porn video

Decent into Beauty: Part 3 By latexslut Chapter 7 Chantel was creaming. She had found that Henry was docile. And he was a good pussy licker too. He seemed to have talent. She didn't tell him that, of course, but she knew. Shaving him had shown off his true form. And he was ugly. Long skinny legs, narrow hips, and short torso: He has a body, women would die to have, she thought. She knew now, that he was becoming infatuated with her. A kiss here, a harsh word there. It all combined to make her feel very fulfilled and with purpose. My job is to make Henry a sex slut. My goal though, is to make him mine. He suits my purposes well. Quite well indeed. She had meant to put makeup on him before they went shopping, but time was running fast. Besides, a hairless male dressed only in panties going shopping seemed to work. She drove maniacally. First the sex shop, then the shoe store, where she intended for him to get boots, high-heeled of course, and then the mall. She wanted to make sure that the mall was crowded when they got there. Henry would be plugged and tottering in nothing more than her used panties, a couple of nipple clamps and the boots of course. And maybe a few tears. She smiled. Humiliating Henry gave her a huge turn on, more than she had even expected. His tears touched her heart, but only as raindrops wet a desert. Later, she thought, I will have time for compassion. Now she was watching Henry fumble with the butt plug and KY jelly, and was getting impatient. He seemed to try to push it in, but then he wimped out, looked at her sadly and promised to do better. The various patrons who had watched his earlier humiliation had all gathered behind her watching again as he tried. "Goddam it, Henry. This is how you do it." She strode over, placed one gloved hand behind the plug and the other on his forehead and rammed it straight on it. He howled, curled and fell to his knees, trying futilely to reach back to take it out. She fought off his hands, kneed him and said, "Thank me." One hand weakly stopped to fight, and then Henry was licking at her toes, oblivious to the crowd watching. "Thank you, Governess. I couldn't do it." "That was so cool," a girl, obviously a prostitute, said. She had cheap clothes, and was chewing bubble gum. "Can I have him?" Chantel backhanded her, even as she began to have a mini cum. Sex isn't everything, she thought, I am so turned on. The girl shrieked, fell back, said nothing, and continued to watch as Henry groveled. "Now, Henry, I want you to thank the clerk. Get his name and address, and promise to say thank you with your mouth. You're not trained or pretty yet, but you will be. Do you understand?" "Yes, Governess." God, but he was breakable. "Pull your panties up, and put these on." She handed him the nipped clamps she had chosen. They were formidable: Each had a tweezer set, with a screw and a sharp tip that, when tightened, would actually pierce the nipple. Henry didn't even whine, but just looked up like a puppy. "Yes, Governess." He put them on carefully. The needle tip was placed just so. But he didn't tighten them. He looked up hopefully. "Good girl. Arms behind your back." He did. "Turn, and put your head under my skirt and lick me again." Silence, but for the Muzac, reigned. Chantel could tell that they had never seen anything like this. She hadn't either. It was weird. Then she felt his tongue, lapping hungrily against her. Her knees almost buckled. But then she said, "Shall I tighten them?" The people gathered heard. Some of them snickered. One said, "All the way, babe." She disliked that. Babe, as a word, she despised, almost as much as chick, but the chorus grew. "All the way!" "All the way!" So she tightened the screws. She could hear Henry moaning, but he didn't stop licking, and finally, she fell over, onto her butt, just outside the bathroom door. Henry's tongue followed her even as she fell and then she felt herself coming again. Her cries lit the room, silenced the crowd, and she closed her eyes in heat. As the waves of passion rolled over her, as she looked up at the excited people, vaguely realized she had slutted herself, she thought, I think I could love this. It was distant, but it was there, and it would grow. Chapter 8 Henry was in pain, mortified and had a hard on. His anus was on fire and it's muscles spasmed, trying to push the plug out as he tried to keep it in, lest he arouse Governess' anger. It was the first time he had ever had anything put in there, not even a finger, and now he was engorged and it was frightfully uncomfortable and foreign. This isn't like the stories, he thought, but the thought was vague because everything was confusion. His nipples were on fire. He realized not only had they been flattened, but they had been pierced too by evil nipple clamps with tips. He had been terrified that when Governess orgasmed, she might kick one or both of them, and tear his nipples. But she was calming now, and laughing. Her orgasm had been beautiful and he had been very proud to be a part of it. He smiled a little as he raised his head, glad that he had pleased her. It was then that he realized that everyone was looking at him and his panties were down around his knees and his naked, hairless little stiffy was standing in the wind. He quickly pulled them up and hid his head back between Governess legs. His face was shiny with her lavender smelling come. "Oh, Henry!" he heard Her say. "That. That was so good. You are a very good pussy licker." He heard a few snickers, but inside he beamed. He had got a compliment. "Thank you, Governess," he said softly. Someone, a girl or woman, said, "Wow, that sissy has talent." "Help me up, Henry. We can't dawdle all day here. Let's make our purchases and go." He stood, his panties tented and gave her his hand, his eyes looking her beautiful body down and up and into her twinkling eyes. Her blue mascara had run at the corners a little, the crisp lines smudged, and he thought it was beautiful. I shouldn't be horny; he thought doubtfully, I hurt too much. She was up like a cat, and rearranged her garters before smoothing her leather skirt. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I hope you appreciated the show. But it's over. Henry, get a shopping basket." There were murmurs in the crowd - they didn't want it to end. A few, it seemed, wanted to participate, and Henry was momentarily afraid Governess would allow it, but then she glared at them and they melted away. When he got back, Governess was at the wall picking out more items. "Don't forget the other plugs and things we picked out," She said absently, but it was loud enough for several people to hear. Henry went to the counter and put them in the basket. He noticed the Mr. Clerk Person staring at him in a strange way: Amused, aroused, and curious. He pretended not to see and rushed back to Governess. There she stood, in her spike short blue boots, leather skirt, pale blue stockings, and her sky blue bustier that showed off her breasts and nipped her waist - she had taken off her see through blouse - looking regal and wild. He felt so much safer when he was close to her, he didn't know why, even when all these awful people were staring at them. He wished he had something to put on. Governess dropped item after item into the basket. Expensive stockings, three pairs in gauze nylon with shade and seams, two pairs made of latex, one pair black, one clear; gloves, two pair in satin, one in clear latex. She found a pair of latex panties, and something like a long legged high waisted panty girdle that looked to be made of heavy latex. She held them up for him. "Would you like me to get these for you?" Desperate to wear anything to cover himself, Henry said, "Yes, please. Governess. May I put them on now?" Governess gave him an exasperated look. "No, Henry, you will have to earn these. I don't just give things away, silly." Henry felt confused. Governess was using his credit card and spending a tremendous amount of money, his money. He whispered the fact quietly, "But Governess, if I may say so, I think we're spending my money today, so they should already be mine. I don't think it's fair." Governess glared at him. "Henry, I told you this morning you are a baby, starting all over again, dammit. You have nothing but your skin. If I give you something, it's either a present or a reward. Now do you want these or not!" "Yes, Governess. Thank you. I'm sorry, Governess." "That's better. Now shut up." He watched her continue with growing alarm. Garter belts, of every color, but they didn't seem so bad, he thought. It made sense if Governess were going to buy stockings. But the rest, to him, was scary, even as the pain in his nipples and ass continued to throb: Hand cuffs, legs cuffs, long chains and short, an enema kit, a plastic inflatable love doll, a wide neck collar and more. The basket became full. And then there were books and magazines. Governess seemed to pick at random, but there was a pattern. Gay magazines, TV zines, books by this author and that, femdom mags. Governess explained. "Training is part physical and part mental. You will have time to study, learn and do book reports and that kind of thing. You need to practice your penmanship too. More curls and heart things and that kind of thing. But you'll only get that kind of quiet time, if you're good. What did I tell you earlier?" "Good girls get rewards, bad girls don't, Governess," he said promptly. She patted him on his head. He felt good and blushed. Governess then went to the video section, grabbed ten or so of them and said, "Henry, now while I pay for all of this, I want you to go apologize to that lady over there. I slapped her, because of you, so it's your fault. And I want you to get her address and phone, and promise that you will do anything she wants for a week. Once you're trained, of course. Tell her that too." "Yes, Governess," he said timidly. He didn't want to leave Governess' side, but he knew he had too, sadly. I thought she doesn't leave me, he thought in quiet panic. He tried not to sway his hips, but the plug made it seem necessary. The lady was black, wearing the colorful make up of a prostitute, with long narrow braids with beads. Black prostitutes, Henry thought, tended to wear more colorful makeup than their white counterparts, but about the same as Hispanic whores. And more colorful clothes that fit their bodies better. He had lusted after black woman often, but in fear. They had long legs, longer than giraffes, capped by tight butts and a way of just oozing sensuality that intimidated him. As he approached, she looked up questioningly, her beads clacking quietly. "Ms, um," he began. "Er..." he didn't know what too say, but felt encouraged when the lady smiled at him. "Yes?" she said, eyes dancing. "Mistress," he started again. He felt encouraged to go on when her eyes twinkled at that. "I er... apologize that my Governess hit you. It was, er... my fault. And I'm sorry. I promise to make it up to you as soon as I am trained, if, er... I could ask for your phone number and address or something." The lady registered understanding and smiled, showing brilliant straight white teeth. "Indeed?" "Er... yes, mistress. We, I mean, I, I mean it was all my fault," 'Was it?' he thought. But then he thought again, 'It doesn't matter. He had to get her address and phone number.' "Yes. Governess said so, and she told me that I will do anything you want me too. Er... after I'm trained." "Poor naked white boy, and when will you be trained?" "Mistress, I er... don't know." I'm tired. I must be tired, but this person is so nice. But I'm tired. "Make it soon, boy." The black lady reached over and gave a yank on his pierced nipple clips. She gave him her address and phone and name, Evelyn, which he tremblingly wrote down. "Tell your Governess, that your apology is accepted, but that I want to have you delivered to my home, ready to serve, in 30 days. And I do want you for the whole week." He saw her look up, blow a kiss and heard from behind him Governess saying. "Done. And thank you. Slut didn't mean to do anything wrong. But he did and penance will be observed. Henry, we're paid up. Grab the bags. We need to get some shoes for you. Come along now." He looked into Evelyn's smiling eyes and quickly knelt to kiss her toes, before rising. "Thank you. I must go." As he ran to get the bags of kink that Governess had purchased, he heard Evelyn's voice sing out, "I hope you have a better name than Henry when you are trained. My boyfriends wouldn't like that. I think slut would work better." As he tried to rush Governess out the door. (Why doesn't She hurry!) He heard murmurs, snickers and comments. And now he had found that his notebook had the names of seven people he would have to thank. He whimpered and followed Governess out the door. Chapter 9 Chantel's smile was wide, showing teeth, and her pussy was dripping. This is a most wonderful day, she thought; as she swerved though traffic like a blind person on PCP. I've come three, no maybe four times today and it's only one in the afternoon. My god, little Henry is good. His continuing embarrassment amused her immensely. His servicing pleased her. And she could feel that he was coming to need her. He had been so lost at the shoe store when she had left to get the purse she had forgot in the car. "Please don't leave me," he had begged when she strode out the dimmed door of Bootlickers. "Be good, and I never will, dear Henry. I'm just getting your credit card. Go look at the boots, hon. I will be back." Bootlickers was a formidable store, stranger than Kinks n Things. It was its own niche. High heel shoes, short boots, medium boots, high boots, fat heels, low heels. Chantel dismissed those: Henry was going to be wearing spikes, usually in the narrowest of heels. Chantel had picked out every type. She had decided that for now, Henry would wear either black or white heels. Color might come later, when she wanted him to look very loud. So she started with low heels of only 4 inches. These would be his practice ones until he started to get the hang of them. Shortie boots, knee-highs in black, thigh highs in white. They had a steep arch and pointed toes. She did the same with 5 inch boots, and again with 6 inch heels. When the clerk, a silly blonde thing had measured Henry's feet and informed Chantel that he wore a size 10 female, she had requested all of them to be size 9. There had been other patrons, and like at Kinks n' Things, they gathered around to watch the spectacle unfold. Henry had been silent, embarrassed and red faced up to this point, obviously in awe. But then he had whispered, "Governess, but those boots will be too small." "Henry," she whispered back, but loud enough for the girl to hear. "No, your feet are too big. I'm sure we'll be able to force them in." Then she picked out the best ones, the ones that she thought Henry would be wearing most of the time: 7 inch knee high boots and a pair of ballet boots, knee high, that could be tied tightly. Henry had whimpered, and she had smacked him. "Henry, put these on," she said, handing him the pink garter belt and white stocking they had bought at Kinks. "You need these, if you're going to fit into the boots. Girl, once Henry is ready, shoe horn him into the black knee high boots with baby heels. I mean the ones with a four inch heels. I'm going to find some more stockings." "Yes, mam," the girl said, eyes wide in wonder. Bootlickers had a huge variety of stockings to supplement the shoe and boot sales. She had decided against any shoes for Henry today: They could always go shopping again. And they would, she thought. But she did find a pair of aqua spikes for herself. What the hell. Carelessly, she picked dozens of packages of stockings, throwing them to the floor. Sheer white, sheet black, patterned, polka dot, striped tights stockings, anything. Henry would pick them up later. She laughed delightedly when she saw a pair of white opaque stockings with black print that said "slut", over and over again on them. "Governess," Henry had said. "I don't think I can walk in these." She turned. There he was, hairless with eyes darting, knees together and bent, forcing his butt out, arms around his chest. He was dressed in his new plug until her dark blue panties, a pink garter belt, white stockings, and black high heeled boots. Nothing matched, and he looked kind of crazy, in a harmless sort of way. Perfect, she thought. "Stand straight! Arms at your side!" He responded immediately, and several of the customers smiled or snickered. The dim blonde said, "I think I'm either going to come or call the management." "You ditz," Chantel said. "You can do both. We'll going to be your best customers. Henry, pick up all of these packages, the boots, and then get the names of anyone here, who will let you thank them later." She explained this to them, imperiously, advising that Henry, once trained, would pay to be allowed to thank them in anyway they liked. The dim blonde rolled her eyes and shuddered for a moment, before going to the cash register and starting to ring up the several thousand dollar sale she had just received. She had smiled as Henry had done just that, trying not to look at the people he talked to. "From now on," she said as he tottered about, "curtsey, dammit, and look more thankful. Or do you want me to punish you right here and now?" He had broken out an anguished sob, tears flowing freely down his pussy-cum covered face. "No Governess. I'm sorry. Governess. Mistress, Master, may I thank you later, once I am trained." Chantel had seen that he had got another ten or so names. God, we're going to have a party. Now Chantel was driving through the parking lot of the major mall. She had called her friend, Leslie, on the way, driving one handed, and made arrangements. Leslie was a bit on the kinky side, but nothing like Chantel had been or was becoming, but very sexy and a switch. She ran the boutique. The mall was longer than it was wide, with anchor stores at each corner. The boutique, called Glams, was located at one end, near the exit. Chantel drove to the opposite end and parked. "Time for a make over, prettyboy." she announced. "Now listen to me. The boutique is called Glams. Ask for Leslie. She'll take care of you." She said as she repaired her makeup in the rear view mirror. "B-but Governess, where is it," he asked tremulously, watching the people walk by him, hoping not to be noticed. Some did, but only because he had no top on and people didn't go to this kind of mall except in elegance, as a general rule: It was upscale. "It's at the other end of the mall, dear." "G-governess," he paused. "Shouldn't we, er... shouldn't we park closer?" "You need to practice walking in your new boots. You can thank me later for those, at Glams, maybe." "P-practice here?" She could see his hands were actually shaking. "W-where will you be?" "Yes, here!" Chantel made her voice rise stern, then casual, then stern again. "I'll be along, nearby. Now don't run. Look ladylike. Now get out!" "G-governess." He reached at the door, but his hands were trembling too much. "I... I can't," he said finally, his voice mewling. "There, there. Do you want me to help," She asked softly, leaning toward him. She pulled towards her, and kissed him, on the lips, the cheeks, the eyelids, and then tongued him and he melted. He's a good kisser too, she thought. I don't know what Desiree's problem with him was. I'll find out tonight. By the time she finished kissing him, his face was a mess of lipstick over old come. She smiled. "Do you trust me to take care of you?" He glowed at her, and dropped his eyes. "Yes, Governess. I must." "That's right. Now turned towards the door and put your arms behind your back." He's putty in my fingers already, and it's only day one. As he did so, she cuffed them. He barked a cry, but then she was saying there, there. "Now, Henry, I will tell you one last time, never disobey me. If I think you can, you will, do you understand?" "Yes, Governess," he said tearfully. God, but he cries a lot. He had more tears in him than a gallon of water. "And here's a necklace, I bought for you, just for you, yesterday. You can thank me later." "A present for me, Governess," Henry whimpered. "Just for you. Now, bend your head." She reached into her bag of tricks and put the necklace around him. It was a simple cord, but at it's end, hung a life like penis with balls, five inches long, in brilliant red jelly, glaring out from his naked exposed chest. With nothing on to distract eyes, everyone would see it. I hope he doesn't get arrested, she thought. I really better not let him get to far away. "Don't every argue with me again." He was mortified. More so than even before. She could tell. His whole body was shaking. She decided to be kind. "If you are good, then after this, we will get you some good clothes." Maid's clothes, she knew, and a corset, wig, bra and falsies. Just another shopping trip. "And take you home. Okay, hon?" She got out of her side of the car, strutted around to Henry's while talking. "You will have to get someone to open the door to the mall for you. But Henry? I will be right behind you." She opened the door of the Mercedes, and with a little yank, had him tumbling out. He rolled, scuffed his knee, and tore his stocking. "Off you go, Henry," she said, smiling. "Just ask for Leslie. By the way, you'll have to pay for that stocking." And between her legs, she could feel herself dripping. Chapter 10 Henry was seeing white and his ears were roaring, as if the wind were rushing past him at a very high speed. Dimly, he could feel his heart jack hammering and he knew he was sweating profusely. His knees were bent and wobbling and his whole body was shaking so hard he could hear the chain on the handcuffs behind him jingling vaguely through the roar. He thought distantly that he was going to pee his pants. He stood there, next to the Governess' red Mercedes, paralyzed, as his mind bounced from thought to thought in no logical manner. I can't go in there. My feet hurt. I won't go in there! I hope I don't pee. Why am I here? Desiree must love me, or hate me. Oh God, help me, and I'll be good forever and ever again. I love Chantel. I hate Chantel. I'm going to push this plug out. Someone will hurt me if I do. Round and round the thoughts went. He knew that there were people in the parking lot looking at him - he could feel it, and he thought they were saying something, but he couldn't hear. He snapped to, when he heard the car door slam. "Henry." He turned his head and there was Governess looking at him, strangely. He realized that he had started, and had been afraid, but there was something about her look that seemed, strangely, kind. He felt confused. She should be angry. She had told him to walk the entire mall dressed only in panties, stockings, garter belt, and spike heeled boots. And his nipple clamps and his butt plug and his necklace of a plastic cock, and his hands cuffed behind him, of course. But he hadn't moved. "Henry." she said softly again. "Come over here, and close your door." He bumped the door with his hip and it shut. He tottered around the front of the car clumsily, never taking his eyes off of hers, as if they were some sort of oasis of life in the desert and afraid to look away, lest they turn into tigers. "Yes, Governess." "Henry, what is this?" "It's a fist, Governess." "Yes. And what is this?" He felt her open hand caress his cheek. "It's a hand, Governess." "Yes. It is. Henry, there are times for the hand, and there are times for the fist. Do you understand?" "I, uh, I think so, Governess. I'm not sure." Fist? Hand? Does Governess mean like... but his thoughts trailed off. He had been afraid all day, and all night, and the day before, and his mind couldn't function properly. He wanted to shake his head, but he was afraid to lose sight of his oasis. "I think you have had enough of the fist today, Henry." Governess explained patiently. "If I help you get through this, do you promise to obey?" "Yes, Governess," he said, fervently. "Absolutely!" "And do whatever I say, no matter what." "Governess, whatever you, Yes. I promise." "Are you sure?" "Yes, Governess, I'll do, anything," Dimly, Henry thought, she asked me this already, a long time ago. Was it only this morning? And hadn't she said anything was everything, and everything was one thing, and something was... He couldn't remember that, but now he remembered that if he hadn't been handcuffed at the last second, he would have made a break for it. The porno store had been horrible. The boot place the same, and it all seemed to get deeper and deeper, like quick sand. But now at the mall he had reached a breaking point and would have run. He had intended to run, no matter what. No matter if Governess was mad, or tried to run him down, or dropped a great big nuclear bomb on his head. He remembered he had come to his breaking point, and now, Governess was going to help him, if only he promised anything. "Good. Henry." She stroked his cheek. "You'll do fine. I'll be right behind you. If anything happens, I'll take care of it. But you have to hurry. You're late. So run your skinny white ass over to that mall and get going." Governess reached over and slapped him on the butt, and the oasis did change to tigers, but his mind was cleared and fogged and he turned and ran, his high-heeled boots click clacking across the pavement in uneven, foundering steps. The necklace bounced around and at some point went over his shoulder to lie on his back. 'Bitch bitch bitch', he thought madly as he ran, but he was thinking that Desiree was the bitch. She had done this to him. His steps were trippy, and once he went down on one knee, ripping another hole in his stockings, but he didn't care. There, in front of him, was a lady going through the special store for disabled people. He brushed by her, running, ignoring her yelp of disquiet, and then he hit the smooth tile of the mall, and slipped in a spin, turned wildly and landed on his butt. The butt plug slammed home deep and unexpectedly and he yelped in pain. People laughed. The mall was crowded. And he blushed fierce red. But determination, the kind that had made him stand up to his cranky old dad once (and only once), was in him. Adrenaline was pumping at full speed, the last of it. The fear speed, the pain speed, those were used up. Now he had a last gasp of strength of will to get there. 'Now where is there?' he thought. He rolled to his back, and then forward, using his head as a third limb on the tile and eased into a crouch. First one heel, and then the other, he brought down onto the tile of the mall. He leaned forward, and using all of the strength in his legs, stood. Henry looked around wildly to get his bearings. He saw that almost everyone in the mall was looking at him, but enough was enough, he thought. And in his minds eye, he prayed, I hope I don't know any of these people. And then he was running, tripping, mincing steps now, as fast as he could. Left, right. Left, right. Henry could only take small running steps, and he almost turned his ankles many times, but he ran like a baby skater, with baby steps, fast. And then he hit a door with his head and realized he had reached the end of the mall. He heard a voice and lifted his head. "Henry. Didn't you ever hear that song? Slow down. You move too fast. Hi, hon. I'm Leslie. Feel groovy, baby." The lady approaching him was smiling, and Henry smiled back. I did it. I made it. I'm here! "Come here, Henry," Leslie said. He could feel her look at him critically, and saw her head cock to one side appraisingly. "Oh, my. Scooby Doo, we have got some work to do!" Henry watched Leslie approach him with her hand held out. He thought, vaguely, as his eyes pulsed from his exertion and his heart hammered, that this person called Leslie was the most delicate thing he had every seen. Despite very high heels, Leslie only came to his shoulder. Her hair was gossamer, cut straight and lank, like girls in the sixties did. Her face was pale white, with stark makeup over. She wore a Goth short black gown, tight at the waist with tented sleeves. All this, he took in with a stare. He started to walk over to her. "Thank you, Leslie. Thank you for being here. I'm so lost." And then, vaguely, he knew it was true. He was lost. He was losing himself. To find sanctuary at a beauty parlor in the eyes of someone he had never met... "Good girl, Henry. I knew you could do it." He looked over and saw Governess approaching with a mixture of dread and relief and thought, she is so beautiful. It isn't fair. "Thank you, Governess." "Chantel," said the woman named Leslie. "What are your orders, dear?" "Did you get the items I ordered? The girl has had enough shopping for one day, I think. And it's getting late." Chantel. Governess name is Chantel. What a beautiful name that is, Henry thought. Governess Chantel. He rolled it over in the tongue of his mind even as he watched them talk together. And now his hand was in Leslie's hand, and he felt safe from the strangers looking at him. "They will be here in about ten, twenty minutes," Leslie kissed Chantel on the cheek, when she reached them and it was returned. "Shall we start?" "Yes." "Let me see," Governess said as walked, taking Henry's other hand, so that he was tottering between the two. "The wig will be a Betty Page cut, in neon Purple. The eye shadow will be dark and of the same. Eyeliner: Black and, very thick. Fake eyelashes, out to here." Henry saw Governess Chantel's fingers about three fourths of an inch apart. "That long, Chantel?" Leslie queried. "Yes. I think so. He's been very closely hairified today, so I think a heavy blush with blue undertones, you know what I mean, Leslie. And, hmmm. Two lion lines. Lipstick, black, maybe blueish. You choose." The three of them strode under the opening of Glams. Henry was spinning, but his spirit, though tired, was lighter. I'm trapped. But no one is being mean to me now, he thought. As if that was a queue, Chantel turned to him. "Turn and lets get these cuffs off. You are now in a safe place, Henry." "I am? I mean, I am, Governess?" "Yes. There are no punishments here. I can always yank you out into the mall and strip your hide, but here, is the ascension to beauty. And yes, Henry, this is a safe haven for you. Remember, I took you here." Henry's dim thoughts swiftly landed on that concept. Here was safe. Safe from Desiree. Safe even, maybe, from Governess Chantel. A place... to relax. Then he thought about the makeover to come, and still thinking with the fortitude he had before, he said stupidly: "And what if I don't want to be here?" He saw Leslie look at Governess Chantel. "Did you hear anyone, Chantel?" He saw Governess's eyes dance brightly with smiles. "I don't think so, Leslie." They laughed. "Earrings?" Leslie went on, when they had finished. "Yes, three on each side." "Fingernails?" "No. Cut them to the quick. As short as possible, and paint them white. He will be wearing gloves from now on." "I see. Tattoos?" "Yes. Of course. Two. One on his left ass cheek. Property of Mistress Desiree. I can always cross it out later. And the other is a red tear drop." "Chantel? Where?" "From the outside of his right eye. Like he is crying." "Is that all for today?" Henry heard Leslie ask. He was holding both women's hands, tightly, listening in dim amazement as they talked about him as if he were a model of something, or maybe a mannequin. He felt safe, and docile, and safe. Three women were approaching them, and all he felt was. Safe. Do what they want. I'm hairless, and I don't know when I will wear a three piece suit again. And, anything is better than running through the mall naked - god I was lucky. I don't think anyone knew me. Then he thought, but what if I'm in the papers... One of the girls, bowed, and said, "I am Kimba. Prease sit heel." Henry followed the Oriental girl and sat in the beauty chair. Tired, but god, I am tired. He sat. The plug sank in, but the relief to his boots was tremendous and he immediately closed his eyes. Then Chantel was there. "Not yet, Henry." "Hmmmm?" "Here, dear. Take one more of these. We are almost home and you can sleep there." He felt her push a tablet into his mouth. "Henry, go take your plug out, in the bathroom this time, clean it, here's some KY, and put it back in, and come back." "Yes, Governess." he said sleepily. Chapter 11 Henry was tired, but not afraid anymore. He felt bloated as he walked to the bathroom in the back of the beauty shop. And he knew he was watched. I'm so tired. He tottered in to the bathroom, mindlessly. He pulled his panties down, and tried to push, but he knew the plug was too big and he would have to pull at it. He did, and it hurt, and then he was doing his business and it felt wonderful and yucky. It was like having diarrhea. The plug, his plug, looked gross. It had stains of yuck on it, and he quickly washed it off. He thought of the lean back chair out there, and the TLC and resting. All he had to do, was find a way to put it back. He lathered it well with the KY that Chantel had handed him, closed his eyes, and crammed it back. Vaguely he thought, back home. He washed his hands. He pulled his panties up, and flushed the toilet, tottered to the door. My feet are killing me! Henry went outside and saw Leslie, Governess Chantel and the three ladies, one of whom was the Oriental lady, looking at him, like a specimen. But not cruel. Governess Chantel appeared most relaxed. "Come to the chair," Chantel said. "Did you do that all by yourself?" "Yes, Governess." "Good girl." The oriental lady said: "Take off all lool cloth, Henly." He was so tired that he started too, even as he walked. He tripped and fell over his stockings and fell headlong into the granite tiles of Glams. Henry awoke in comfort. He could tell that the plug was still within him, but the boots, clamps and everything else were off. "Eyes stay close." The Oriental girl was taking care of him, somehow. His head hurt. "Are you awake, Henry?" "Yes. I think so." "You think so what, you stupid idiot?" He could hear venom in Governess voice. "Chantel, relax. Later is later, hon," Leslies said, and began to sing the song of 'Do you know the way to San Jose'. "Look." "Perfect!" Henry glanced sideways and saw his Governess: Her red hair was fiery and wild. Untamed. Her gloves had been cut at the fingertips and red dragon nails of two inches or more stretched out. She looked hot, randy and horny, and Henry smiled inside. She loves me. I love her. "Is he done?" he heard her say. "Oh, yes, Gov'ness Chantl. Ver gud done." Henry felt revived. Just another hit of speed. Oh god, I am going to have a headache tomorrow. I haven't done speed since college. Somehow, during his sleep/nap, he had become naked. "Take him to the back. It's time to go home. Leslie, I owe you." Henry allowed himself to be led to the back room. He was naked but for the plug in him, and his eyes felt heavy. He could see shadows of lace when he blinked or looked up. "Dress him," he heard Governess say. And now he was as if in the midst of servants. His mind blankly obeyed them. Lift your foot, sit back, turn, and suck in your tummy. And on it went. Henry felt the stockings slide up, and his wiener stood up too, embarrassingly. He heard comments about that. Leslie said gosh it's so little. Governess said it didn't matter. He was in fog. The corset hurt. It was long, and tight, and fierce and as they all tugged at it, Henry fogged out. He felt them attach the stockings to the garters. Then someone had him step into latex panties. Someone said, so there is no KY stain, but Henry didn't care. This was not just speed, it was something something. Someone took his arms away. And put them back in long satin gloves. Someone told him to stand up, and made him step as they pulled onto him nests of lace. Someone put on some false breasts on him and fastened them with a long line bra of some sort. It was too small, but he laughed. Someone held his arms high, and drew down a dress over him. Then Chantel was speaking to him, "Do you feel safe now, slut?" Henry said to someone, he thought it was Chantel. "Yes, yes, yes. Yes." And then Governess hit him. Hard. First on the head, and then on the plugged hole. Henry woke. He looked in the mirror. "Henry, this is you. Now." Governess whispered. And he did not recognize himself. "Who?" "You, slut." Before him was a person, a lady, a fox, actually. Standing. The legs were long and narrow and attached to heeled boots - I have been wearing these? - garters showed off white skin. The skirt was so short, with bustles. His eyes reluctantly rode up. He was tired. But up they came to the breasts sticking out, the gloves worn, and the collar. A dog collar it vaguely seemed. That's why my chest is heavy. I'm wearing huge breasts. And then Henry saw himself. And he was beautiful. Dramatically! His face was a mask of colors. The eye shadow was dark and multi- colored. His cheekbones were deep red with shades of blue in them. Two straight dark thick lines accented them and reached for the corners of his mouth. His lips glistened with layers of neon blue lipstick and were lined with midnight blue. He saw why his eyelashes were so heavy. They were almost comically long, but straight, thick and separated. His eyebrows had been trimmed to thin high arches and tinted with blue. The wig was long, bright neon slutty blue with a straight cut. "We had to shave your head, slut," Governess explained as she watched him take it all in. "Kind of like burn the boats so there is no retreat. Plus, it fits better this way. Don't worry. It won't fall or shift. It's glued." He focused on his earrings. On each ear were two long silver dangling chains of about six inches. Each ended with a tiny silver figurine. One was a butterfly, one was a small replica of a cock. Another looked like the trademark naked lady silhouette that one sees on the mud flaps on trucks. And the last simply was a round disk with the imprinted inscription of slut. The other earring on each side was a big thick silver hoop three inches in diameter. He touched the tattoo put on him, the teardrop. "Governess?" "Yes, slut." "What are my dimensions?" He hastily added, "Governess?" Governess laughed and he smiled too, exposing his teeth and he leaned forward to stare in amazement. The middle two top front teeth appeared to have a small diamond embedded in each of them. "Yes, slut, those are real diamonds. They're epoxied on. Your measurements are still in the early stages. Right now, you are 35C-26-36. You're a bit on the fat side. We'll get you changed to something closer to 48DD-18-32. Maybe more. We'll see. But it'll take time and training." Henry turned his head in shocked disbelief. Leslie answered his question before he could ask it. "You need to be noticed, slut. It takes time to learn to balance the weight of the breasts with the height of the heels I understand you will be wearing." Henry puzzled about that - the height of the heels I will be wearing? - but suddenly realized that he had been rude. "Ms. Leslie, Ms Kimba, thank you so much for taking the time to take care of me. I was so scared." Governess laughed again, her eyes twinkling. "That's very nice of you, slut. And you will thank them properly, and frequently, but not today." Henry's stomach growled loudly and he realized that he was very hungry. When did I last eat? My stomach feels like it's in a cage. As usual, it was becoming to seem, Governess read his thoughts. "We'll leave in a minute and I'll buy you an ice cream," she said, smiling still. "I want you to practice on it anyways. What do you think of your new uniform?" Henry didn't like the word of uniform, but now that he looked at himself again, he thought it was very fetching. It was long sleeved and deep blue, somewhat low cut, but not exposing, though it showed off the dog collar clearly, and very short, to just barely below his crotch. Ruffles held the skirt part wide, and showed off his stockings and garters. It wasn't a tutu, he thought vaguely, but it was close. And sexy. With his boots, his painful boots, his legs looked very long. He realized suddenly, that he looked like sex on a stick, oozing fuck me attitude, though he didn't feel that way inside. Inside, he felt that he was hidden, like wearing a mask. No one, he thought, could recognize me. Not unless I said something. "Governess, how am I supposed to speak?" Governess sat down, holding her stomach. "That will take practice, slut, but try using a higher pitch. I haven't decided if you will have a lisp or not. Probably not." Henry found himself speechless. "Wow." And then his other senses kicked in. He could tell he smelled very, very strong and was wearing clouds of perfume. Much too much. It almost made his eyes water. His stomach was rigid and he was trying to breath through his chest. When he lifted his leg a bit, the nylon slid along his legs like water and he could feel the garters - there must be a dozen, he thought - tighten around his thigh. The air above his stockings felt cool, cooler than before when he had been half naked, like air drops dancing on his nakedness. He realized that other than his face, the only area exposed to the air, in fact was the thin stripe between his stocking tops and his latex panties. His fingers were covered with satin and felt very strange when he closed his hands. He had never before had to wear gloves in his life, and now he felt as though the tactile senses in his fingers were somehow cut off, yet his fingers felt lively somehow, or caged. He couldn't be sure. Leslie had stepped away and now came back with her hands full. She began to put on a bracelet. It was a charm bracelet, and again there were small ornaments on it. A cock, a slut spelled in silver, others. She fastened a heart shaped dog tag to his collar. It said: Slut. If lost, call, I-am-slut She slid silver rings up all his fingers. He saw that they were all kinky. One showed off a man backsiding a woman, one said slut, and so on. He felt his wiener try to rise - this is so kinky, he thought dimly - but couldn't. The panties were very tight and sticky to him and it was stuck. My balls hurt. I really need to come somehow. Again, Governess read his mind. Dammit, he thought, how does Governess to that! "What is the rule, slut?" "Good girls get rewards, bad girls don't." "Are you a good girl?" "Oh, yes, Governess. I hope so." He tried to say it in a higher register, but it sounded funny, even to him. "When we are around people, slut, pretend you're mute. You sound like a stork." "Yes, Governess," He smiled, "or a cat in heat." This made Governess laugh and he was pleased. "Governess, may I ask why, I mean, why you are calling me slut and I'm being adorned with that bad word on all my jewelry?" He knew it was a stupid question, but he felt he had to ask. "It's only an expression, slut. And later, we'll tattoo it on you too. It's for your sake." Henry was puzzled over the answer, and somewhat worried, but now he was distracted by the sight of beautiful Leslie kneeling at his feet attaching ankle chains around his boots. Again, they were charm anklets, with many dangling graphic features and words. Leslie stood up after she had put at least five anklets on each leg. He couldn't tell. "There," she said. "All done, Chantel, unless you want slut to wear the tiara?" "Not today, Les. You've been wonderful. Here's slut's credit card. Charge what you like." "Indeed, I will, Chan, but no more than for what I've done. Slut can tip me later," she strutted off. "Governess?" "Yes, slut." "Can't anyone use my name, or call me something like what you said earlier, like Henrietta?" "Not anymore, slut. It's just that way. You have no name." Henry pondered this vacantly and tiredly. He didn't like this. "Why not, Governess? Where did my name go?" "My, slut is getting ditzy already. I guess, slut, it just went away in the wind." Hmmm. I will fix this tomorrow, he thought. I don't care. I don't care. But I don't like this. And then he saw himself again. God, I'm beautiful. I would fuck me. What am I thinking! He was about to say something, when Leslie came back. "All done, Chantel. Thank you for your business. See you Tuesday?" "Les, you're a dear. We'll be here," Chantel pecked Les on the cheek, grabbed Henrys hand and said, "say thank you, slut." "Thank you, Les... I mean, Ms. Leslie." And when he said that, he felt, somehow that he meant it. "You are most welcome, slut. See you soon, dear." And then to his surprise, Leslie kissed him on the forehead. "Do we have to go, Governess?" "It's time to go home, slut. Your Mistress will be worried if we don't get home soon. Come along." He felt Governess give a tug on his wrist, but hesitated. He was afraid to go back out "there". Away from haven. "I'm scared, Governess." "Everything will be alright, slut. I'll be right at your side. Let's get some ice cream." Now they were walking through the mall, slowly, with Governess coaching him. "Toe, heel. Toe, heel. Take smaller steps." Henry could feel all eyes upon them. He could feel, vividly, lusting stares from young single men, furtive looks from guys here with their wives or girlfriends, and hateful or disdainful looks from any female over 18 in the place. But now he wasn't terrified. He was blushing to be sure, but not in fear. "We're just the two hottest babes they have ever seen together, slut. Enjoy. How do you feel, slut? Be honest and complete." "Governess, I feel confused. My feet and tummy hurt, and so does my butt. Really bad." "Slut, pain is the price of beauty. Get used to it. Do you see me complaining?" "No, Governess." "What else do you feel, slut?" "I think my corset is too tight, Governess. It feels like a vise." "Slut, after all you have read, how else to you expect it to feel. Get used to it. We'll get longer and tighter, later. Hmm, maybe leather, maybe latex. Who knows. What else? "Er... Governess, I think I feel sexy, though I know I shouldn't. And horny." "Get used to it. Feeling horny, I mean. And hon, you look hot. Five alarm hot. It's a good thing I'm here to take care of you, slut." "Governess, must you always call me slut?" "Every sentence. Yes." "Oh," Henry said, somewhat timidly. "And so will everyone else. Slut, forget your old name. Okay? Listen. You are going to be beautiful, horny, and a slut, for the rest of your life. Do you understand?" Henry was about to protest, about to say no, I don't understand. I don't think that's fair. But he saw her beautiful, but glowering tiger eyes looking at him, telling him that he had better agree. So he said, "I understand, Governess." "Good girl, slut. And remember, I will be here to take care of you. You can trust me, but only me. Do you understand that slut? I own you. You are in my charge. You will do as I say. I am your Governess. Do you understand, slut?" There was nothing else to say, Henry thought tiredly. "I understand, Governess." "Repeat it back, slut." "You own me, Governess. I am a slut. I will do as you say." "Good girl. Now, slut, let's get some ice cream." Chapter 12 Desiree was anxious, irritated, annoyed and bored. When she had woken up and wandered the house, she had found both Chantel and Henry gone. She had known that Chantel was going to take Henry shopping, and initiate his training, but she had expected to be able to provide input and even watch. She had hoped that she might even start training Henry herself, though inside, she was a bit afraid of doing so. She was unsure how it was supposed to be done. Even re-reading Henry's kinky magazines hadn't helped. She knew it was a matter of attitude, not anger, and it was an attitude that Chantel had, and she wished for. Desiree envied her, though she couldn't quite admit it. After wandering the house, Desiree had gone to Henry's private office, taken care of some paper work and then found herself wandering down to the music room to check up on Dianna. She remembered to bring an apple, realizing for the first time that no one had been feeding her. What she found there stunned her sensibilities. Dianna was still sitting in the same chair that she had been chained to, but she looked a mess. Her makeup was smeared and she looked listless. Urine and feces were mixed together on the tile floor below her, but still Dianna was playing with her toy, the vibrator Desiree had given her the day before. Desiree watched from the doorway for a while and saw Dianna bring herself to another orgasm. How can she do that all day, she wondered. How many orgasms has she had since I was last here? I'm going to make Henry be this way. Nothing but an orgasm hungry slut, but he won't get to come. Oh no. He'll just be horny and make me orgasm all day. She drop kicked the apple over towards Dianna and closed the sound proof door to the room without saying a word and went back upstairs to her bedroom. It was her bedroom now, she thought. Always it had been Henry's and hers, but now it was hers. It almost felt lonely. Desiree realized that she was feeling melancholy for some odd reason. I am not jealous of Chantel, for Christ's sake. I just met the woman. But she has a force I don't have. But I will. She took a bath, and found herself relaxing in the warmth of the hot water. She shaved herself and buffed the calluses on her feet, trimmed her toenails. After she had toweled off, she studied herself critically. I have good breasts, but maybe I should make them larger, like Chantel or Dianna. My legs are longer than Chantel's, but her waist is smaller. She decided to get decked up. Stockings and waist cincher, her black spike heels, and long gray leather dress with long sleeves with her long black leather gloves. She made her makeup heavy. She went heavy on the make up, and put on her diamond pendant earrings. Now I look good. She went back to her desk in the large main office and waited, reading Henry's kink magazines. Now that she was dressed, she felt power coming back to her, as well as anger. It was an anger brought by envy, but that was not easy to recognize and she didn't. He had a whole part of his life that he didn't share with me, and now I'm going to fuck him with it, and fuck him good. And while I'm at it, I'm going to take all his money. Henry the fucked. She smiled. Was that before Henry the Eighth or after? The door opened, and there was Chantel. She looked resplendent. Her hair, brilliant red before was now a wild mane. Desiree noticed the red dragon nails poking through the blue gloves. She noticed, almost with awe, the shades of blue Chantel wore. Somehow, Chantel's stockings had laddered, and there was sheen between her legs. "Where have you been, young lady?" She said, swinging her legs off the desk to the floor. "It's after 8. I expect my employees to report to me if they are going to be late. Especially when you are with my husband!" "Hi Des." "I am Ms. Needmore to you, Chantel," Desiree said curtly, fake anger being replaced by true. "I'm sorry, Ms. Needmore. Really, I am," Chantel said and looked sincere. "It's just been such a wonderfully busy day. I can't tell you how many times I came." "Really, Chantel, and who made you come, if I may ask, " Desiree asked icily. She looked at her own nails and realized they needed fixing. Something like Chantel's, but pale. And not nearly that long. "Why, Henry, of course! He really is very good, Ms Needmore." "What!" Desiree rose to her feet, started across the floor and turned back to the desk to pick up the letter opener laying there. "You made love to my husband!" "Ms. Needmore," Chantel said coolly and softly. "Of course not. During our interview, you advised me that those days are over for him. Please, Desiree, calm yourself. Just. Calm down." Desiree gripped the letter opener tightly, turned to let Chantel see it. Chantel seemed not to notice. "Explain yourself, Chantel." "Desiree, Ms. Needmore, I was just training him. To give love. He is such a good pussy licker. Amazing." Desiree suddenly felt embarrassed. Henry had asked if he could lick her pussy once or twice, but she had turned him down and it had never come up again. Now she realized that that was exactly what she was going to be wanting him to do, but she didn't know, or hadn't known, the bridge to it. Chantel seemed to be laying that at her feet. "So Henry didn't come with you?" Chantel laughed, eyes twinkling, and it almost infuriated Desiree. How can anyone be so fucking happy? "Oh, he came with me, of course, Desiree. Or you could say he arrived. But he sure as hell didn't come." Desiree was puzzled by this play on words, but then ignored them and said, "Well, where the hell is he?" "He'll be here in a moment, but first can I introduce you to a new member of your household. She will be very useful." "Chantel, you are walking on dangerous ground now. I authorized no other hires besides yourself." Desiree felt angry, shaking angry. Something was not correct here. She felt as if she were not in charge of the conversation. "Again, explain yourself." "Ms. Needmore, please, relax, all will be explained. You are upset. I will take care of that," Chantel said as she click clacked across the room. The lights captured her striking beauty, Desiree saw, and saw that Chantel was fearless, despite the letter opener in her hand. Chantel leaned to give her a kiss and whisper, "just relax", and then pulled the chair away from the desk towards the middle of the room. She opened the left hand drawer and pulled Desiree's bottle of vodka from it. Desiree had kept it there for emergencies, but hadn't touched it for over a year. How did Chantel know it was there, she thought. "Have a shot, sit here, and look at this girl, Ms Needmore. You will like. I promise." Desiree practically fell into the chair, opened the bottle and took a straight shot from the bottle, something that she had never done before in her life. She felt on edge. Something was very strange here. Chantel seems to be in charge, is in charge, but I am. I am. I am. "Show me this girl, Chantel. But I am telling you now, you are about two minutes away from being fired." Chantel laughed again, this time a haughty laugh. "Whatever you say, Des." Chantel strode back to the door, her hips swaying sexily on her spike heels. "slut, please bring the packages in, and then bring Henry." The girl appeared in the doorway before Desiree, and she instantly, though she had never had a lesbian thought in her life, felt moist. "Drop the packages," said Chantel. "Stand, curtsey, and then twirl." Desiree was amazed. The girl made Dianna look like McCardboard. She was a fox on fire. The blue hair, maids outfit, stockings, make up. She oozed sex. "Ms. Needmore, said Chantel. "I think this is how Henry should look." Desiree was speechless for several moments. The girl had far too much perfume on. It wafted over her, but she was sluttier, sexier, more anything than anything that Desiree had ever seen. She saw the bangles and earrings in a dim sort of way. In spite of herself, she asked, "Does this person lick pussy?" She felt immediately embarrassed for saying such. I've read too many magazines over the last few days, she thought. "Ms Needmore, I do believe so. And very well too." "Chantel, I want you to make Henry look just like this. And I want this girl, what is her name anyways, to train Henry how to lick pussy just the right way. In fact, I want Henry to look this way! Dammit!" Desiree was feeling heat rise up in her and it gave her confidence. Henry, she smiled, will look like this. He will. He will. "slut," said Chantel, smiling as though hiding a secret. "Go thank your Mistress." The girl strode forward. Desiree noticed that she didn't walk very well in her boots. She's kind of clumsy for being so beautiful, she thought. All girls know how to walk in.... "Answer me, slut," said Chantel. "Yes Governess. Thank you, Governess. Mistress, may I? May I lick your pussy and please you and thank you?" Oh. My. God. Desiree's thoughts stammered. It's Henry! It's fucking Henry! God, she's made him beautiful. As if to read her thoughts, Chantel said, "It's only a start." She laughed. "God didn't make sexy sluts in just one day, Ms. Needmore. Slut, approach on your knees, and beg permission." "Mistress, please may I please you," Desiree heard Henry say. Unbidden, undecided, she opened her legs - I never did put any panties on - and felt her husbands tongue begin to work on her. Her last thought, before she came was that she felt that her husband was eating her like an ice cream cone. Chapter 13 Desiree felt glowing. She had never had an orgasm like that, like the one Henry had just given her. Slut had just given her, she reminded herself. She hadn't had to do anything, but lose herself and she had done just that. There was no performing on her part, no trying to please, just taking. Henry... slut, had licked her, tongued her, until she came not just once, but twice and on the second time, the orgasm had been huge, so shuddering that she tipped her chair and fell to the floor, only to hear Henry... slut, saying he was sorry. Chantel had stood off to one side, smiling. Always smiling, like a Cheshire cat. Desiree wondered briefly about her wantonness, and having an orgasm in a big well lit room, let alone in front of someone, but somehow she realized that things were changing and bars were being lowered. Her husband had just knelt in front of her and licked her, with no thought, or at least no apparent thought, of his own pleasure. It was weird. Now they were sitting across from each other, in her office with the tiles and large expanses of the room, the belt attached to the wall on the far side. Chantel had dismissed Henry and told him to go rest at the foot of the bed in the guest room. It was just the two of them. For the first time, she thought. "Chantel, I must thank you," Desiree said reluctantly. "I didn't know you could, er... be so effective." "Thank you, Ms Needmore. May I call you Des, " Chantel replied politely, coolly, and sipped her glass of wine. "But it's just a start." "Yes," Desiree said, and paused. "Before we continue, I need to do your w-4 forms, so I can pay you." "Of course, Des." It was already bothering her, this informality. Des. Chantel had something, some strange thing that made it hard to control the conversation. She pulled out the form. "What is your full name?" "Chantel." "Chantel what?" "Desiree, that is it. Chantel." "Fine. What is your home address?" Chantel laughed. It irritated Desiree. So fucking happy. "What is this address, Desiree. Before I was here, I was out there." Desiree moved on. "Phone?" "I didn't have one." "Social security number?" "I never bothered." "How did you buy that car, then," Desiree was beginning to feel trapped by her own questions. This isn't going to lead anywhere. "I found it." "A Mercedes convertible?" "It was there. I took it. Anything else?" "Shit," Desiree looked over the employment form. "Last place of work?" "Turkey, Interrogation squad. I don't remember the address, but you can contact the Turkish embassy, if you like, Desiree." "Shit," she said again. "Education?" "Oh, that. Bachelors in Psychology, Masters in Bitch Psychology, Berkeley." "Bitch Psy?" Chantel laughed again. "Yes, I only learned the good parts." Desiree fumbled with her pen. "Desiree, will you just relax? Drink some wine, and let's talk." Desiree found herself doing just that. She sipped her wine, looking at the form, and then gazed at Chantel. "Chantel, " she heard herself say. "I envy you. You are strong and. Well..." "I know, Desiree. I'm free, and you are trapped. You took your first step today, when you let slut make you come, without feeling a need to reciprocate." "How do you know this?" Chantel laughed again, a gentle tinkling laugh like chimes on subtle wind. "I took bitch psyche, Des." "I see. What is the next step for Henry?" "Long answer, Des, or short." "Long, I think," Desiree said, feeling fine and drinking wine, and wondering, how smart is Chantel? "Here it is. I've already started breaking him. I can do it in about another seven days or so, and then we can rebuild him into anything you want. Des, you don't really want to feel vengeful about him anymore...." "I damn well do!" "No, you want to form him. That is why he is called slut now. I told you this. Henry is no more. Take away his name, take away himself. In the next six days, I can learn slut to think of nothing more than obeying you, and serving you and anyone else you might decide to want him to serve." "Why would I want that, Chantel?" "Serving is a practice, Des. As long as slut is giving, slut is not thinking of itself." Desiree was puzzled by the terms. "Itself?" "Des, this is how is has to go. Break, remake. Slut is an it. Slut is slut. A bug. Nothing, but a pleasure unit. And then, once slut is broken to pieces, it really is like putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. I broke him today, but I haven't shattered him yet." Desiree understood, vaguely. The magazines had made it seem kinkier. Here, Chantel was sounding almost clinical about it. As though it were simply a process that could be replicated on anyone. "Henry... slut, made me come, like I never had before, today." "I saw." "I know you did, and that made it worse, or better. I don't know." "I know." "So, what is next for Henry... slut, I mean Henry, I mean he is my husband." "Once we are done here, I'm going to go prepare sluts room." "Where will that be, Chantel?" "In the closet of the guest bedroom, Des." Desiree was startled and concerned. "In your room?" "Not really. Wait and see. You will be amazed. Cheers, hon." Chapter 14 Henry was achy. He had slept on the tile floor for most of last night after he had pleased his wife, Mistress. Governess had woke him while he was resting at the foot of the bed in the guest room. His corset and heels hurt. The boots were too tight, and the corset was too tight. Together, they made the fullness of the plug seem silly, thought that hurt too. Still though, the mirror across from him showed a fox in heat, and he almost liked himself that way. My wife likes me again, he thought. Her pussy isn't lavender, like Governess', it's like corn flakes, mushy cornflakes, but I pleased her and she let me. He had been woken and brought down to Desiree's