Captain Janeway Captain s Slave
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My Bizarre New Life free porn video
MY BIZARRE NEW LIFE by Throne
In a sense, everything I'm going to tell you about is my own fault. My
life never would have changed the way it did, if I hadn't set everything
in motion. With my wealth and plenty of leisure time, I had developed
increasingly kinky tastes. My wife Alana wasn't as keen as I was about
any of it. She didn't relish wearing leather and rubber, wasn't eager to
have me take pictures and videos while she played with sex toys, and
definitely resisted when I encouraged her to have a brief fling with a
lesbian. Even so, I had complete financial control of her life and only
needed to remind her of that to make her comply with my wishes, if she
didn't want to be left with nothing. The thought of being left penniless
and powerless was the most powerful threat I could conceive. With that
hanging over her head, when I told her we were going to visit a drag club
and see their show, she didn't object at all, though I was sure it
bothered her. I told her two weeks in advance so she could fret over it
for the entire time she had to wait. It would be one more reminder of
how I ruled her life. My move appeared to have the desired effect. She
seemed to say, "Yes, Rich" and "Whatever you want, Rich," even more than
usual. That attitude even extended into the bedroom, which was pleasant
for me.
Once the night arrived and we got to the club, I was prepared to have a
few laughs at the expense of the queens on stage, and enjoy watching any
of them who got put into submissive roles. It would be an added bonus to
observe my sexy wife's discomfort during the entire evening. That was
why I was so surprised, after the opening lip synch number, when the MC
fairy was circulating among the tables and my wife struck up a
conversation with him. He was tall and slender, in a shiny gold dress
and a tall blond wig. His stage name was Mary Queen of Sluts. Alana
played on my pride to get me to agree to a bet with him. It was an arm
wrestling challenge. If I won we would get free drinks for the rest of
the night. If I lost I would have to pay a penalty. My wife touted my
strength and, led on by my ego, I didn't consider that I might lose. But
Mary turned out to be stronger than I expected, and I got easily beaten.
When I tried to buy my way out of that obligation, he wouldn't accept my
offers. Several big brawny types had gathered around our table to watch
the contest and now they were towering over me, threatening looks on
their stubbled faces.
I drained my drink and accompanied Mary backstage. Before I knew it,
with the brutish males keeping watch, I had been made to strip naked.
Mary gave me a skintight latex catsuit to wear. It was pink. First she
sprayed me all over with some sort of chilly liquid. Then she tossed me
a towel to wipe it off. I was horrified when drying myself also removed
all of my body hair. But being nude, with those muscular men now eyeing
me with bad intent, I just wanted to be covered up. With some assist
from Mary and lots of talcum powder, I soon had my legs in the outfit.
Mary knelt in front of me.
He said, "This is just so you won't stretch out the crotch with your
family jewels."
Two of the rough guys grabbed my arms while Mary fitted a ring around the
base of my genitals and slid my flaccid penis into something else. There
was a faint click and he stood back up. Looking down I saw that my dick
was in a pink plastic tube which was as small as it could be and still
accommodate my organ. That was attached to the ring around my privates
by a small red padlock shaped like a heart. Everything was happening too
fast. Mary tugged up the catsuit and aided me in getting my arms into
the sleeves. There were gloves, except that they were too small and had
such tight fingers that I would have to make a conscious effort to pick
up and handle anything.
"You look so sweet," Mary gushed. He made me close my eyes so he could
use more of the spray on my lower face, removing any hint of the presence
of facial hair. "Now you're ready to go out there and serve some
drinks."
"Wait," I said angrily. "I can't do that. Not with my face exposed."
"Well," he huffed. "I see we have some problems. First off, someone
needs an attitude adjustment." He turned to one of the muscular men.
"Spike, darling. Would you do the honors?" Mary held out both hands,
palms downward, and repeatedly slapped the back of one with the front of
the other.
Spike understood what was being requested. He grinned nastily and said,
"My pleasure, honey."
With that he seized me, sat on a wooden chair, and dragged me across his
lap. All at once my bottom was being slapped with considerable force.
The latex offered scant protection and I was soon squirming and wailing.
My legs kicked but he held me in place with his free hand. I received a
thorough spanking that left me sniffling and out of breath.
Mary said, "I hope that you'll be better behaved from now on."
I protested, though not as strongly as before, "That was assault. You're
in a lot of trouble, faggot."
"I was saying," he resumed, "that I hope you act nicer because I wouldn't
want Spike to have to do that again so soon, while your bum is still
sore. Right?"
The fight went out of me. I didn't want to undergo more of that pain and
humiliation. I said, "Yes. I'll be good."
"Thank you so very much," Mary told me with exaggerated gratitude. "And
next I need to hear you speak in a proper voice. A pretty voice."
After a few tries I sounded almost as fruity as him. He gave me a
congratulatory pat on the shoulder. It made me shudder. Being touched
by another man was not one of my perverted preferences. Far from it.
In that wispy voice, with extreme politeness, I meekly requested, "But if
you could please hide my face, Mary, I would really appreciate it."
"Well of course, sweet cheeks. I have just the thing."
With that he produced something that fit over my whole head and clung to
my features. It smelled like rubber. The latex suit was already making
my body perspire, and this new addition did the same to my face. There
were eyeholes, so when he led me to a mirror I could see what I was
wearing. It was a mask with the caricature of a sluttish female face on
the front. There were ears with dangling earrings. The crown was bald
but Mary soon remedied that lack by taking a wig, putting some sort of
adhesive on the inside, and snugging it down so tightly it squeezed my
head. In the mirror I saw that I now had pale blond hair with blue
streaks in it, reaching to my shoulders, straight all around and cut into
bangs above my darkly outlined eyes. I tried to say something and,
though I could speak my voice was muffled. It was weird to hear my
doubly altered voice while, in my reflection, the mask's overly full,
bright red lips didn't move.
"What's that, darling?" Mary wanted to know.
Saying one word at a time, with spaces between them, I repeated, "After
this, may I get back into my own clothes?"
"That's the plan, cuteness. I just hope some of the other queens back
here don't play any naughty games. They might hide your handsome male
outfit. Or even... abuse it. In fact, let me safeguard your wallet and
phone and wristwatch by giving them to that charming wife of yours. I'm
sure they'll be safe in her bag. We wouldn't want you to get stuck like
this, looking like a wanton woman, with no money, ID, or phone." He gave
a theatrical shudder. "Now let's put you to work so you can pay me off
for losing that rather ill-considered bet. Okay?"
I answered respectfully, in my girly voice, again hampered by the mask,
"Yes, Sir. I mean, yes Ma'am. Yes, Mary."
"Now aren't you a quick learner? So feminine. And with such a proper
form of address. But could you say it again and use my full name? Show
some respect for royalty? And maybe get down on one knee? If you don't
mind."
It was shameful but I felt utterly helpless. The possibility of being
stuck like I was appalled me. My only reassurance was that my wife would
have my possessions. And she always obeyed me, so there was no chance of
anything going wrong with her. I felt my cheeks grow warm and knew I was
blushing with shame as I dropped to a half-kneeling posture.
Looking up at the grinning she-male, I said with feigned formality,
"Thank you, Mary Queen of Sluts. I am ready to serve my time waiting
tables." Just to play it safe I added, "Thank you for this beautiful
mask and this, um..." It was all so demeaning. "... delightful golden
hair."
"You're welcome." When I rose he took my head between his hands and
kissed my cheek. Though his lips were making contact only with he rubber
covering, it still made my skin crawl. "And since you addressed me by my
proper name, we'll have to give you something new to be called, too.
Your wife introduced you as... Richie. So how about if we start calling
you..." He put the tip of one pinky finger to the corner of his mouth,
rolled his eyes upward, and tilted his head slightly to one side and then
the other. It was such sissy behavior that I started to feel sick. It
didn't help that the heat was still increasing inside my suit. With
sudden inspiration he hissed, "You can be Bitchy. From Richie to Bitchy.
I'm the Queen of Sluts and you're my Princess Bitchy." He let out a
cackle. "Now out you go for your big debut." Mary turned me around and
gave me a slap on the rump that made me let out a high-pitched squeal.
I stumbled forward. As I reemerged into the club, one of the dominant
guys put his well developed arm through mine and walked me to the bar.
He laughingly told the bartender that I was straight and had gotten
myself into this fix through making a dumb bet with Mary.
The bartender was a TV in a short, red disco dress. He said, "Did Mary
pull the arm wrestling trick?"
"Yeah. She got another one."
"Maybe I'd better give him a drink to help him with what happens next."
As he rapidly concocted something in a tall glass, he asked me my name.
I started to say Richard but then realized that would be wrong.
In my best girl voice I told him, "I'm Bitchy."
"Well," he said, pushing the drink toward me, "this should improve your
mood."
"No," I corrected. "I meant that my name is..." Then I realized he
already knew that and was just making a joke.
When I didn't touch the drink he picked it up and put a straw in it.
Then he guided the end of the straw through a breathing hole that I
hadn't even noticed was in the mouth of my mask. I got the end of the
plastic tube between my lips and sucked, grateful for something to take
the edge off my mortification. The drink was overly potent, but I kept
drawing more into my mouth and swallowing. Plenty of liquid courage
would be needed to get me through the next twenty or thirty minutes.
However long this cruel game had to be played. I drained the glass in
record time. The alcohol started to work on my brain. Suddenly there
was a small round tray in front of me with three drinks on it. The
bartender pointed out that there was a discrete brass plaque on each
table with a number on it. I had to deliver this order to #16.
I took the tray with both hands, being extra careful because of the
confining gloves, and sort of scampered away, fearful that the biker type
might give my rear a swat like Mary had. I began weaving my way through
the tables toward my destination. There were comments about me from the
patrons and reaching hands that I barely dodged. Thus distracted, I
didn't see who was at table 16 until I arrived. There sat my wife Alana.
Mary had returned to the floor and was alongside her. On my wife's other
side was a tall man with movie star good looks and expensive clothes.
Seeing him there was disturbing but I told myself that, in a place like
the club, he had to be gay.
I bent forward at the waist, set down the tray, and distributed the
drinks with a few words of direction from Mary. He gripped my wrist and
told me to stay for a couple of minutes.
"This is Brad," he said, indicating the well dressed man. "He's a friend
of mine." Mary reached past Alana and gave Brad's hand a squeeze.
In a small voice I said, "Hello, Brad. So nice to meet you."
He gave me a broad wink.
Then Mary said to me, "And you already know Alana."
My wife glanced up at me and remarked, "That's a good look for you...
Bitchy. I'm so glad you're getting to fulfill another of your kinky
fantasies. And I'm taking good care of your money and credit cards and
all." She patted her bag. "But I'm sure you have other tables to see
to. Don't worry about not being here. Brad will keep an eye on me."
Mary laughed and got up. Holding his drink, he started back toward the
stage.
Brad said, "Mary's a lot of fun. And she really knows how to take care
of a guy like me. But I prefer a more submissive sissy. Preferably a
reluctant one."
That was good to hear. It confirmed my hope and assumption about Brad.
At least he wouldn't be going after my bride while I was in this terrible
predicament. I was so ready for it to be over. Maybe after two or three
more tables I'd be let off the hook. I went back to the bar and got a
fresh round of drinks to take to a table all the way in the back. Once I
got there I found a trio of rowdy guys who already had a few glassfuls in
them. One of them pawed my bottom. Another caressed my thigh. I was
about to make my escape when the third one pulled me down onto his lap.
He got his hands all over me. I squirmed on his thighs as he toyed with
my nipples through the thin material I was wearing. Despite how awful my
ordeal was, maybe because of that strong drink I had unwisely consumed, I
was stimulated by his efforts. My caged cock tried to get hard. As it
pressed forward, the ring around my balls was dragged forward, causing me
pain.
"Looks like we got a lively one," said the guy holding me. I realized I
was twitching my hips in an unsubtle way. His hand went between my legs.
"And the sissy has been locked up. That means she's a submissive, so
anything goes."
I got passed from one of them to the other, while they felt me up and
complimented what they said was my sexy figure. I tried to will away my
body's unwanted attempt at an erection but couldn't do it. The pain and
stimulation continued. At last I broke free, grabbed my tray, and
hurried back to the bartender.
On the verge of tears, I asked him, "How much longer do I have to do
this?"
"Are you kidding?" he said, pushing back his waves of auburn hair.
"You're on until closing time, love bug. And from what I just saw, the
guys out there love you. Better be careful you don't wind up on your
knees under one of the tables, with your pretty mask pulled halfway up
and your mouth stuffed full of cock. I mean, personally I'd love to be
in that position, but I hear you're still saying you're straight."
"I am," I insisted.
He smirked and told me, "Sure you are, sister. Your eyes say you're
straight, but those hips send a different message."
When I glanced down I was horrified to see that my pelvis was again
jerking sexually, enough to make it plain how I was reacting. And I was
sweating profusely inside my latex costume. That mask gave the wrong
impression to anyone who saw me. I took a new tray and started toward a
table halfway back and off to the side. Mary was once more on stage,
introducing a pair of dancers who I could have sworn were real females.
They even appeared to have breasts. That mystery was solved when I got
to the table I was serving.
One of the customers said to me, "Hey, lover. You spend a weekend with
me and I'll pay for you to get a pair of boobs like one of those hotties
on stage has."
With that nightmare vision firmly implanted in my mind, I worked for he
next several hours. I was repeatedly mauled, talked dirty to, and even
stretched over a table while one customer pretended to rape my latex clad
backside, to the cheers of everyone watching. At some point a customer
at the bar bought me a drink and, while I stood alongside him with his
hand exploring me, I made myself slow down as I drank it. That unbidden
stiffness inside my chastity cage persisted. I decided to try talking to
Alana. Surely, if she intervened, I could get out of at least the
remainder of my payback to Mary.
When I got to her table I was shocked to see Brad's hand on her thigh,
his fingers under the hem of her brief dress. She leaned toward him and
they shared an intimate kiss.
Seeing my stunned and disapproving expression, Alana said, "What's the
matter, Bitchy? Something you want to say to me... girl?"
"I... You can't... I thought Brad was gay."
He gave me a winning smile and said, "Actually I'm switchable. And I
could switch from your wife to your pretty self without even missing a
beat."
My feminized voice got higher as I said, "You can't do that. Alana and I
are married." I automatically resorted to using my main leverage. "And
I control the money."
Alana interjected, "Not all of it, Bitchy. I have what's in your wallet.
Along with your credit cards. And ID. Driver's license. Keys. Even
your expensive wristwatch." When I still didn't back down she added,
"And from what Mary said earlier, some of those wicked queens backstage
did terrible things to the clothes you arrived in. Got them all messy,
in certain unspeakable ways." She laughed. I wasn't used to this
newfound confidence of hers. "So if you don't want to be left here for,
let's say, the next week, you need to be very cooperative with me... and
with Brad."
I was seized by a sinking feeling. There was nothing I could do to help
myself. My former male confidence had been broken. I was even having
doubts about my sexuality. As I fought to gather my wits, Brad
distracted me by slipping his fingers between my buttocks, pressing hard
on the latex. I gasped and felt a fresh surge of unexpected arousal. My
balls hurt. I was so sweaty. The drinks were confusing my thinking.
The remainder of my resistance crumbled.
Alana said to Brad, "We just need to keep him like this for a few days.
There are some papers he needs to sign. I have them all ready to go.
The silly wimp let me know we were coming here way ahead of time, so I
was able to get everything ready. Mary was helpful. Especially when she
introduced me to you, lover."
"Soon-to-be lover," he amended.
"I'm sure that part will work out. But let's treat Bitchy here to one
more drink. We'll make sure they put something extra in it, to help us
get her home. And then the real fun can begin."
Her idea of fun, I learned two hours later when we got home, was to have
me strip naked in front of them. I had to prance around like a total
pansy. In the bedroom where I'd had sex with my bride so often, I was
made to watch her be willingly ravished by another man. Just my bad
luck, Brad was insatiable. After he was done with my wife, with them not
bothering to wash up, I had to clean both of them with my mouth . It was
disgusting but again I was wildly aroused. As I was finishing my efforts
on Brad's impressive member, he became excited. With my wife guiding me,
I had to pleasure him the way a weakling sissy does for a more commanding
male.
After that, my willpower didn't return. Over the next several days I was
kept naked or else in feminine lingerie. I lost track of time. When
documents were put in front of me, I signed them. In the end they told
me that everything I had owned now belonged to my wife. All I had was my
male wardrobe. Except that they made me box up all that and stack it
inside the front door. I cowered behind the easy chair that had formerly
been my favorite, and watch as two men came and picked it all up. As I
emerged from hiding I looked longingly at where I used to sit. One of
Alana's new rules was that I wasn't allowed on the furniture unless given
permission. It was like I has been reduced to a house pet.
There have been many other rules in the days since then. My wife likes
to joke that all I own now is my cock lock. It turns out that Brad is
wealthier than I am -- or rather than I was -- so he is very at ease
living in the expensive home now owned by my wife. They use me at will.
Sometimes one will tell me to seduce the other, and I have to shame
myself by offering my services in the crudest terms. I must always act
and speak and move in overstatedly feminine ways. When I am allowed to
wear anything, it is always girly, and often blatantly sexual. They are
building a collection of panties, stockings, garter belts, baby doll
nighties, harem pajamas, and on and on. I have learned to walk in
woman's heels, though they keep getting me higher ones. There is also
bondage equipment, including posture collars, horribly tight corsets, and
fiendish armbinders. Of course, they have an endless supply of sex toys.
Sometimes Alana will bring out one of the dildos or vibrators I used to
make her fool around with for my pleasure. Now it's me who has to use
them, in the most demeaning ways. Those devices get me overexcited but
I'm still trapped in chastity.
That is my life now. Stripped of my extensive wealth and property,
turned into an emasculated plaything, robbed of the slightest degree of
control over my own life. They even dictate what I eat and drink. I
recently tried to tell myself that at least it couldn't get any worse.
But even that proved to be mistaken. Alana and Brad just announced that
they are going to begin giving parties for their many kinky friends. My
earlier efforts to pervert my wife worked better than I could have
imagined. She is now fully involved in a number of bizarre activities,
all of which include me. She looks forward to interacting with others
who share those tastes at the upcoming gatherings.
"You're going to love it," she told me just this morning, as I was
dusting and polishing, while wearing a very restrictive maid's outfit.
"You'll be serving snacks as the guests arrive. It will be a stay-over
affair and, for the rest of the weekend, you will be entertaining the
everyone in any way they request. You will do it all with a smile and
show plenty of enthusiasm. From Friday at dusk until late Sunday. I
think that after so much partying, you'll be a changed person. In fact,
we're even going to give you a new name. I can't picture you as Bitchy
after that. All the bitch will be squeezed out of you, along with any
remnants of masculinity. How about if we get you a legal change to
something more appropriate, like ---- Candy Lips. Doesn't that sound
delicious?"
What could I say? After weeks of sexual activity with no release, along
with being totally controlled, my mind was susceptible to being
manipulated. I put a simpering smile on my face, fluttered my long
artificial eyelashes, reached under the top of my skimpy maid's outfit to
tease my own nipples, and helplessly writhed from chronic sexual
frustration.
I said breathily, "Candy Lips. That sounds yummy." I hated what I was
saying but was no longer able to stop myself. "I can't wait. Thank you,
Mistress. And thank Master Brad, please. Thank you both for everything
you've done for me."
She grinned and added, "And for everything else we're still planning to
do to you."
*********
(This story was inspired in part by the wickedly clever captions of
Crayle, which appear at crayle2.deviantart.com/gallery. You should check
them out and can leave a comment there, if you'd like.)
Sherry
- 01.04.2021
- 7
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