Detention With Miss Downey Miss Downey s Story Chapter Four
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It was a dark and stormy night. I know that this is a cliche, but it
really was a dark and stormy night. It was the middle of summer, June
18 I believe it was, and as usual I was pissed off that my satellite
wasn't receiving a signal during the storm. Melissa, my wife, was
sitting on the couch watching as I tried in vain to solve the problem
by turning the satellite off and back on again. It was a trick that I
learned in college, but it never worked. I don't know why I bother.
Melissa sat on the couch with a slight smirk on her face, as if to say,
"that trick never works," ala Rocky the Squirrel.
Conceding defeat, I turned off the television and sat on the chair
opposite Melissa. I wondered out loud what we would do since we didn't
have TV. She made reference to my extensive collection of DVDs, but I
had seen all of them and really wasn't in the mood to watch a movie
anyway. So instead, she suggested that we plan our morning. We were
planning to go get some more supplies for the house, since we had just
bought it and it didn't have much in the way of furnishings. We had our
own tables, chairs, couches, and bed--but not much else. While I went
to the hardware store (a man's job), she was going to Wal-Mart to look
at curtains (a woman's job). Since I had a great deal more on my plate
than she did, as I would be getting the larger and more expensive
items, we concluded that she would be home first. Therefore, she
figured that she would go ahead and put up the curtains and go through
some boxes while I was out.
Now, I must interject by saying that I lead two lives. By day, I'm with
my wife and everything is great, but whenever I get the chance, I have
another "friend" who I visit. She is not my girlfriend nor does either
of us wish her to be. But she does break the monotony of life by doing
things that Melissa would never do. And she's always horny. I work when
I feel like it, since I had no problems with money. I inherited a small
fortune from my parents that they won after some legal proceedings. We
were not from money, so I was new to the concept of actually having it
around. Therefore, I occasionally still worked at odd jobs--just to
feel "normal."
Figuring that Melissa would never know if I was gone longer than
necessary, I had plenty of time to schedule a little "appointment" with
Monica.
Melissa left first in the morning, as I made some excuse about having
to clean out the truck to make room for the stuff I was supposed to
buy. Once she was gone, I was immediately on the phone with Monica,
checking to see if she was available. She was and I decided to go there
first so that I wouldn't have to worry about having all the stuff in
the truck. It was about a 15 minute drive from where I was, and I knew
that Melissa had gone the other direction so I didn't have to worry
about her seeing the truck in someone else's driveway.
I arrived at Monica's house and knocked on the door. Monica was from a
modest family and didn't have a great deal of money. You wouldn't know
it to look at her, but her house left something to be desired. The
front door was barely attached at the hinges and almost fell off when I
knocked. She opened the door and pulled back the screen door.
It creaked loudly and my mind instantly thought, "I have some WD-40 in
the truck." Since I wasn't here to fix her door, I dismissed the
thought.
She looked fantastic. She was dressed casually in her jean shorts and
T-shirt that looked like it was made for a 12 year-old. Her 5 foot 4
frame looked as though it was ready for either cleaning or a basketball
game. Her C cup breasts strained against the shirt and her tanned,
toned legs protruded from the shorts down into a pair of pink bobby
socks and tennis shoes.
She invited me in and asked me if I would like a drink. Having to run
errands today, I politely refused. She told me to make myself at home
and relax for a few minutes while she changed into something "more
comfortable." I love that expression. It seemed to me that she was
perfectly comfortable in what she was wearing and I knew full well that
was she was going to put on was less comfortable. But it would also, I
knew, be more easily removed.
She returned in about 10 minutes wearing a black leather bustier and
stockings. She had a leather thong under the bustier, and her legs,
shrouded in black fishnet, met their end in knee-high, black leather
boots with enormous heels. I guessed it was at least 6 inches, as she
was taller than I was. She gave the international symbol for "come
here" with her index finger and I followed her into the bedroom.
Monica's bedroom is the only room in her house that looks like it was
finished. It was done over in pale green wallpaper that matched her
canopy bed perfectly in color. The plush black carpet absorbed our
footsteps and even masked the sounds of her heels. The same green from
the wallpaper translated itself onto her windows, which were covered in
Venetian blinds that ran the length from floor to ceiling. It was
definitely a woman's bedroom.
Monica ordered me to strip and I eagerly complied. I threw my clothes
in the corner of the room and made my way to her, embracing her in a
flurry of kisses and nibbles. She pushed me onto the bed and jumped on
top of me. I began to tear at her clothes, nearly destroying them as I
tried to make my way to her body. Soon I had her down to her stockings,
while the rest of her clothes lay on top of mine in the corner of the
room. She pulled at the rope attached to the top of the bed, lowering
the drapes that encased her bed. We were in complete darkness. She
began to kiss and lick at my body and I kept myself content with using
my hands, groping at every part of her body. She took my member in her
hand and guided it to her face. She lapped at it a few times, only
touching the tip. This was driving me crazy.
Finally, she placed her entire mouth around my penis and stroked with
her hands. After a few minutes, I was really going nuts. She then
pulled back and took my eager member into her pussy. I was in Heaven.
She said that she had an idea and pulled her body away. After only a
few moments, she returned with a pair of handcuffs. Eager to return to
where we were before, I agreed. She placed the handcuffs around my
wrists and the chain around the back of her headboard. With two
successive "clicks," I was bound to the bed.
Afterward she stopped moving completely and said three words that I had
not expected, "How's your wife?"
I felt a prick in my ass and leaned back into sweet oblivion as
consciousness slipped away.
When I awoke I felt extremely groggy. I wondered what happened and how
long I had been out. It must have been some really great sex for me to
pass out. I looked around and I was still in Monica's bed and my hands
were still bound to the headboard. The curtains around the bed had been
lifted and Monica was nowhere in sight, but otherwise nothing was out
of the ordinary. Then I remembered the prick I felt just before I
passed out. I looked under me as best I could, figuring that I had sat
on something that Monica left on the bed. Unable to find anything, I
decided to relax and wait for Monica to return. Besides, this straining
was hurting my already sore wrists.
Again, with my grogginess, it took this long for me to remember the
three little words that Monica said just before I went out. It dawned
on me and I began to panic. I screamed for Monica to return so that I
could get out of these handcuffs. After all, I did still have errands
to run and I had no idea how long I was out. Melissa might be getting
suspicious.
Monica entered the room, completely dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I
told her to let me out of these handcuffs so that I can get dressed.
She complied without saying a word. I was too worried about what she
had said earlier to ask her why she wasn't speaking. Situations like
these need to be handled delicately. I figured it was over between us
now, since she obviously knew about Melissa.
Having my hands free, I rubbed at my sore wrists for a moment and then
at the spot on my ass. I stretched and looked around the room,
wondering out loud where my clothes were. Then Melissa showed up.
Now, I'll be the first to tell you that when you're standing naked next
to another woman's bed, with marks on your wrists from being handcuffed
to the headboard, wondering out loud where your clothes are when your
wife enters the room, there's really not a whole lot you can say in
your defense. Strangely, however, Melissa didn't say a word but just
stood there, with that same smirk on her face that she has when I can't
get a signal from the satellite. I was mistaken before when I thought
that I was in a delicate situation. Now this is a delicate situation. I
didn't know what to say. Finally Monica broke the silence, telling
Melissa to get my clothes.
I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at Monica
with her staring back at me. Neither of us said a word. It was really
beginning to give me the jibblies.
Melissa returned with a trash bag thrown over her shoulder. She placed
it in the same corner of the room where I had been throwing mine and
Monica's clothes for months. After placing it, somewhat delicately, in
the corner, she looked up and asked me if everything was alright. She
said I looked pale.
I can assure you, dear reader, at this point I was indeed pale. I was
scared to death in fact. But being the classic, machismo-filled male, I
was trying to play it off, but to no avail. Melissa, sounding somewhat
concerned, told me to look in the mirror. I looked in the mirror and
was shocked to see that I my face was covered in makeup. And I had
blonde hair. And it had been styled like a woman's hairstyle. Upon
closer inspection, I also noticed that I didn't have any body hair--
nothing from the nose down. I was so caught up in the moment that I
hadn't noticed before. Trying to play off my situation, I scoffed and
said that they could have done a better job with the makeup--I looked
like a whore. Melissa bent down toward the trash bag and Monica teemed,
saying that's exactly what they were going for.
Melissa spilled the contents of the bag onto the floor. There, sprawled
across the carpet, were various and sundry types of feminine articles
of clothing. Monica left the room, leaving Monica and I alone.
Melissa looked up at me, with tears in her eyes, and said, "You have no
idea how much you hurt me. I was made aware of this situation before we
moved, and I had to see it with my own eyes. That's why Monica drugged
you. That and to teach you a lesson. I could easily divorce you and
take half of your money. However, the more I thought about it, the more
I realized that divorcing you would only allow you to do this to
someone else. Eventually, after several divorces, you wouldn't have
much left financially, but it would take some time. And I do love you.
So I decided the best way to handle the situation is to make it so that
you can never do this to another woman. That way I get to keep you and
all of your money and no one else gets hurt."
With that, she called to Monica, who returned to the room and walked
around behind me.
"What are you going to do?" I asked self-assuredly. "You may have taken
the clothes that I was wearing today, but I have more. And even if you
got rid of those, I can buy more. The bank knows me and they wouldn't
have any problem handing over any amount of money that I need. I don't
even need ID. So you've had your fun, now why don't we just go home and
talk about this."
Melissa laughed. It was frightening. She had never laughed like that
before. It was... evil. "How, Dear, do you expect to explain to the
bank that you're wearing makeup and have a feminine hairdo?"
I wasn't about to let her get the best of me. "Simple. I'll wash off
the makeup and wear a hat. I can always to and get my hair dyed back
and cut later. Now get me something to wear so that we can get out of
here."
With that same smirk on her face, she replied, "But what if you can't
wash off the makeup? Do you remember just a moment ago when I said that
we drugged you to teach you a lesson? The makeup is tattooed on. It
won't come off--ever."
I forgot that Monica was behind me. I felt another sting in my ass and
the room began to spin. As I lost consciousness again, the last thing I
saw was Melissa holding up a pair of thong underwear.
The light hit my eyes and sent searing pain through my head. Melissa
was standing over my head. "Good morning, Sunshine. Welcome to the
first day of the rest of your life. I wanted to see the look on your
face when you found out about the makeup. Now I want to see the look on
your face when you look down."
I tried to sit up, but was unable. I tried to speak, but again to no
avail. I was bound to a table of some sort. I looked up at my bonds,
only to see a glistening pair of silver handcuffs attaching me to the
top of an emergency room table. I noticed that my nails were now bright
red and they were at least 6 inches beyond my fingers. I slowly looked
down, terrified of what I was going to see next. I had breasts! I
silently prayed they weren't really mine. Looking further, I was
wearing the same outfit that Monica was wearing before. Black leather
bustier, black thong, black garter belt, black fishnet stockings. There
were silver things protruding from bustier, the thong, and the knee-
high boots. I quickly identified them as locks.
"You see, Dan... I have to make sure that the clients don't try to
remove your clothing. While your breasts are real, the rest of you is
still male. So you are attached to your clothing with padlocks. Your
nipples are pierced, you are wearing a chastity belt, and your shoes
will not come off until I say so. I will remove your ball gag in a few
minutes, but first we have to go over some ground rules."
I replied, "Mmmmffff."
Melissa ran her hand along my face. She began going over the new rules
of my life.
"First of all, I figure that you have had sex with Monica at least a
hundred times through the course of your affair. For that, you will
suck one hundred dicks. I imagine that you've probably had other
affairs that I don't know about, so we're going to assume that you had
four other affairs, having sex with them at least a hundred times each.
That makes five hundred dicks. And for the pain that you have caused
me, we'll just make it an even one thousand. Each one of your blowjobs
will be videotaped. This is the last time that you will be able to lie
down until you are finished with all one thousand. From now on, you
will stand at all times on 6-inch heels. When you are not performing
your tasks, you will be secured to a pole on the ceiling here. I
purchased this place with your money just before we moved. It's a
popular spot for both gay and straight men alike. You will be 'open for
business' for eight hours a day. You will receive three meals a day,
and you will be cauterized for the duration of the night. Once you are
finished with your duties, you will be allowed to remove your clothing,
but only to have your penis removed. From that point on, you will no
longer be locked to your clothing. You will still legally be my
husband, but you will be a woman for the rest of your life."
She pushed a button and the table lifted, forcing me to stand on the
floor. My feet hurt already. She secured another pair of handcuffs to
my wrists and to the ceiling before removing the original pair and the
table. I was being forced to stand.
Melissa continued, "If you defy me, refuse to perform your tasks, or
decide to hurt someone, I will cut your dick off myself. No one will be
able to identify you in your current state. I even had your teeth
changed to make sure. They'll just think that you were a poor
transsexual who wanted to get rid of the last visage of her maleness
and accidentally killed herself."
She removed my gag and my handcuffs. I fell to the floor, too weak to
stand. I wanted to cry out, to scream that I didn't deserve this, but I
was unable to speak. Even without the gag, I couldn't utter a word.
As Melissa left the room, she slyly said, "That's the perfect place to
be. I'll go ahead and send in your first client. You have fun now."
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Kaidence
- 04.06.2020
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