Cat And Mouse - A Cresswell Industries Story Pts 15 And 16 free porn video

XV: Hot and Bothered *CRACK!* "Nngh!" The woman's name was Marion Briggs. In BDSM circles, she was considered a switch, which meant she could effectively fill the roles of a dominant and a submissive. Yet another associate of Mary Margaret Katzhoff, they had just finished a pre-planned session in which Marion...who always played the submissive to Maggie...was the recipient of a willing degree of pleasurable pain. *CRACK!* "Nngh...ohh, fuck!" With every crack of Maggie's whip against her fleshy posterior, Marion moaned pleasurably. This of course being contrary to the more dominant side of Marion Briggs, who in her line of important work was referred to as Agent Briggs. Among her many tasks as of late was to facilitate the witness protection deal for one Ruth Portnoy, partially as a favor to Mary Margaret Katzhoff. *CRACK!* "Guuuh! Mmmmh..." The whipping session, in fact, was Maggie's promised reward, and Maggie made sure the agent got what she wanted in return. In spades. *CRACK!* "Haaah...uhhh!" The whipping session was both private and highly satisfying. Maggie was good at making sure her lashes were never too much for her BDSM client to handle. Any more effort, and the whiplashes would be more like serious injuries. Legitimate blows. Inevitably, however, even the tough body of Agent Briggs had its limits, and when she was on the verge of such a limit, it was time for the safeword. "Climax!" The mood immediately lightened between the two, and Maggie...who had a white poet shirt on, and skin-tight lycra pants...stepped in to apply a more tender and easing touch to her evening's submissive, assuring Marion...clad in a one-piece black latex outfit that exposed her now bright red ass-cheeks...that the whipping session was over. Smiles were on the faces of both women as they left the private room and moved towards the bar in the front of the fetish den. Settling themselves at a table near the bar after getting drinks for themselves, Marion let out a long sigh. "Shit, Maggs...you really beat the crap outta me there." "Got you all hot and bothered, didn't it?" Maggie mused. "Oh, fuck yeah," Marion responded, taking a sip of her Sex-On-The- Beach drink. "Well, you deserved it," Maggie sarcastically remarked. "Depriving a son of his own mother." Marion smirked. "At your request, Maggs." The raven-haired woman nodded, smiling. Her tone became a little more discreet. "So Ruth is all settled, then?" "Yeah. She's been kinda quiet, but she should be fine," Marion assured, also keeping her own tone discreet. Maggie's next line of inquiry was a little more serious. "You might want to concentrate a little more on her mental health, Mar. She might just want to go back to Bullchester, and she needs to stay away from that place. Bad memories. It's the kind of trauma she doesn't need." Marion raised an eyebrow. "Brainwashing?" "Don't ask," Maggie quietly shot back. Marion nodded slowly. "I'm sure we can set something up on a...psychiatric level." "Don't rule out hypnotherapy, Mar," Maggie warily advised. This gave Marion a reason to pause thoughtfully, thinking on such a setup. Particularly with the name of the city Maggie mentioned emerging from the mouth of her Dominatrix friend. "You know...even in circles like the FBI and the CIA, there are places even they would be afraid of. As much as I'm tempted to snoop accordingly, I'll just concentrate on Ruth for the moment." "Don't question Ruth about it, Mar," Maggie warned again. "The idea is to take her mind off of that place, not to mentally revisit it." Marion nodded. "Technically, that's not up to me, but...I'll keep that in mind." "Good," Maggie paused to take a sip of her own drink. "Mistress is pleased," She then added, grinning lasciviously. Marion presented her drink in a toast. "To Ruth?" Maggie clinked her glass against the drink her submissive held. "To Ruth...and I hope that greek bastard burns in hell." "Once we've squeezed enough dirty little secrets out of him?" Marion noted. "Consider him fried." * * * The eyes of Debby Bliss shot open. She then let out an amused giggle. Instinctively reaching over to where the saucer of Jelly Gum Drops were, she grabbed a few and placed them between the thick, pouty, red- painted lips of her mouth, the candies of which she had been conditioned to believe was brain food. Looking down at her half-naked, slightly-bronzed body, she noticed that she was wearing the tiger-striped lingerie set she had worn from the previous night she had spent playing dress-up with Auntie Judy. Debby arched her head back as her upper body rose up from the disheveled sheets of her bed. Her hands went to her hair to check the condition of her hairstyle, which had been arranged in a style similar to that of Marilyn Monroe. She had only gotten the style yesterday, so it was still very much intact. Her hands then moved down to where her much larger set of breasts awaited. They had continued to grow and expand until they were firm and naturally-grown K-Cups, with nipples the size of jellybeans. Rubbing lustfully at the fleshy mounds, she moaned quietly at the feel of them, still finding it hard to believe that they were actually hers. Having them grow to such a size was an achievement in itself, for it meant that Debby no longer needed to serve as the maid of the house. But she still needed to follow her Auntie Judy's lead at all times. Debby swung her hairless, shapely legs over the side of the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of pink, high-heeled shoes, and she lifted her huge, firm and fleshy butt off of the bed. As always, a perpetually lewd expression was on her face. Bending down to draw her tiger-striped panties back up, she pulled a black fur-lined pink satin robe from her nearby closet full of sexually explicit garments and slipped her arms into the soft fabric. Settling herself in front of her room's well-lit vanity, Debby applied a fresh layer of makeup to her face and rose back up to view herself from head to toe in her room's full-length mirror. Debby couldn't help but giggle as she jiggled her way over to the door of her room, making her way out of it so she could join Auntie Judy down below for her morning breakfast. Debby was still habitually rubbing at her right breast as she sauntered sexily over to her spot at the table in the Dining Room. Judith smiled sweetly as the bimbo she had created wiggled her fingers in greeting to her as she planted her large, plump posterior upon the chair. "You look like you had a good night's sleep," Judith mused, sifting through her morning salad mix. "Judging by how well you've developed, I think you're ready now for the next step, Debby dear. You're going to be starting a new job tonight. Someplace where you can earn a little money for yourself." Debby pouted now. She didn't like the sound of this. "I thought I didn't have to work anymore." "Oh, don't worry," Judith assured. "This kind of job is perfect for your talents. You just need to learn how to dance a little. That's all." * * * Maggie sighed out irritably when Larry finished speaking. "Shit." Both of them were in Larry's portion of the office, behind a closed door as Tamara remained at her station outside. He had finished explaining that one of his nephews...a bright young man named Dennis Blake...had suddenly gone missing. Larry's attempts to ascertain where he was turned up no leads. "An' you know what that could mean, Maggie," Larry warily added. "This ain't good at all. 'Specially since Rita Noble was a client o' mine not too long ago." "I bet you're regretting that now," Maggie humorlessly mused. "That's an und'rstatement," Larry responded. "So I'm wond'rin' if we could at least find out jus' where Dennis went? Maybe through that...hack'r friend o' yours?" Maggie arched an eyebrow. "Bippy? Well...I can ask. It's gonna be a waiting game for you in any case unless you get a threatening call from Rita, or even Celeste," She gently placed a hand on the shoulder of her worried friend. "Regardless of whatever might have happened to Dennis, just remember one thing. The Cresswell women never really kill any men that cross them, so it's not like your nephew's life is in any danger." Larry's eyes widened. "I know damn well what they do t' men, Maggie! But I don't wanna see that kind o' thing happenin' t' Dennis! He's a good kid! Got a lot o' promise in his future! His parents may have fallen on hard times, but..." Larry stopped, his face going pale, and after a quiet moment of realization, he sank into his chair with a miserable look on his face. "...oh, hell." Maggie frowned in her puzzlement. "What?" Larry sighed. "I hope I'm wrong, but...Dennis has a fath'r who, well, confided in me that...he had an affair with someone. His wife nev'r found out about it," He then looked fearfully up to Maggie. "I have a feelin' that woman his daddy spent time with was one o' those Cresswell bitches. That's the only way I could see them gettin' t' Dennis." Maggie shook her head. Never rains, but it pours. She mused to herself. "I'll see what I can find, Larry." "Please," Larry replied. He then let out a deep breath in his attempt to relax himself. He then gestured to the office door. "Go on, then. Tamara's waitin'. We'll talk later." Maggie nodded, leaning down to plant a kiss on Larry's forehead. She then went for the door into Tamara's side of the room. Tamara herself also looked just as troubled as Larry was upon spotting her. "Penny for your thoughts, bitch?" She mused to the former boy. The plus-sized secretary blinked as she came out of her apparent daze. "Huh? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. We ready to scoot?" "Mmm-hmm! Move your fat ass, babe," Maggie gestured to the front door of the office. "We are outta here." Once they were in Maggie's sports car, and roaring along the highway towards yet another fashion photography session, it was a thoughtful Tamara that broke the silence. "You know...we never really celebrated getting my mother away from Bullchester." "I know, hon," Maggie answered, keeping her eyes on the road. "I...haven't had too much time to make such arrangements, though. After what Larry just told me, I may need to delay things a little while longer." Tamara frowned. "Why?" "Larry feels that Celeste may have targeted someone in his family, Tamara. One of his nephews," Maggie explained. "I have to confirm this by going through my contacts. This is something I can't have Larry waiting on, since he's a good friend and we've known each other a fairly long time. Even since before I met you." "Anything I can help with?" Tamara curiously asked. "No. Not at the moment. I need you to concentrate on keeping up with your portfolio," Maggie replied. "The more shots I have of you, the better your chances of agitating Rita. Her Pandora girls need serious competition, and you're starting to become a contender there. Just keep up with the photography sessions, the diet you've been on, and the workouts. Always remember those workouts, Tamara. They're very important." "I've been on top of all that, Maggie," Tamara confirmed. "But...we haven't really had any time together, you know? Like, you and me time?" "I know, hon," Maggie sympathetically answered. "And I promise you we'll do just that. I just need you to wait a little while longer for me, OK?" The photography studio could now be seen as Maggie's car took an exit off the highway. Tamara sighed in response to Maggie's promise. "Alright...but I do really wanna spend some time with you. No business or anything." Maggie grinned suggestively as she glanced to Tamara. "Good things come to those who wait, hot stuff," She punctuated this statement with a wink as Maggie pulled the car into a parking spot. Tamara smiled back, but in her mind, she knew it was not the first time Maggie had put off the promise of personal time. During the photography session, which was starting to bore the former boy by now, Maggie had been on her smartphone constantly once again, barely spending any time watching the plus-sized secretary vamp it up under hot lights, makeup, and all manner of skimpy, edgy outfits to go with the 50's Pinup Girl motif. As the photographer neared the end of his need for multiple shots and angles of his sexy subject, Tamara reminded herself of the time and the date that had been texted to her by Julia Stroud. They were to see each other tonight. If her mother was still under the Cresswell influence, Tamara would have felt a bit more apprehensive at the thought of dealing with Julia Stroud. But now that Ruth was more or less in the clear, and under witness protection, Tamara cared little for what was to happen to her next. There was a strange excitement to that thought, too. It was as if the notion of surrendering herself to someone like Julia Stroud, if not Maggie, carried more of an allure for her than being Maggie's secret weapon, so to speak, in her desire to monkeywrench the activities of the Cresswell ladies. She had even tried the salad dressing Julia had told her about. Tamara liked the french dressing. A lot. Perhaps even moreso than the Balsamic Vinaigrette she had been using. It was just a matter of slipping over to the locale without Maggie noticing. Judging by the time, they were to meet at around the time Tamara finished her workout routine. She figured she could use the excuse of spending extra time at a different workout place, or even going to a movie, or some other excuse justified by the presence of places in their current location. While Tamara was back in the studio's dressing room putting her tight and somewhat skimpy sweatclothes on for the ride to her workout locale, she sent a single text message to Julia's smartphone. See you tonight. * * * Every step emitted a loud clack from the heels. A jiggle could be seen where the edge of the tube tops showed off the cleavage of her breasts. The skirt areas were always dangerously short, stopping just above the knees. This was how Rita Noble wanted to show off Brianne, her new personal secretary. At the Loris International offices, Brianne was required to wear her now longer hair in a tightly-wrapped bun on top of her head. Letting the hair loose, flowing it freely down, would reveal that her straight hair extended to about mid-back. Rita had conditioned her new secretary to expertly layer on her makeup. Brianne had become a perfect picture of fashion statements, and she would always be called upon to emulate popular fashion statements, and those which were up-and-coming. This night, however, Rita was less than pleased. The Daily Bullhorn had published a scathing story of how Rita Noble had employed victims of the Human Trafficking ring Demetrius was one of the masterminds of, and she was now being branded as thoughtless, selfish, and cruel in most media outlets outside of Bullchester. Brianne was in the midst of deleting all files pertaining to these victims. She, too, was upset, but it was out of sympathy for Rita. Apparently, those media ninjas failed to bring up Rita's efforts to quite generously compensate, and provide for, all those victims in the wake of the Trafficking ring's elimination. There was hard proof to support this, but said proof was apparently being ignored. Although most of the negative press came from conspiracy theorists, anyway. Those who always love to spam about how the rich exploit the poor for personal gain, yadda, yadda, yadda. People like Brianne knew the truth of the matter, but said truth was obviously falling on deliberately deaf ears. The bodacious secretary noted Rita's dead silence when she took Brianne in for work as she always did. The debutante's face was pale, and a dreadfully empty look was on her face since the bad press spread around. As much as Brianne wanted to say something during the ride, she ultimately kept quiet. Brianne remained quiet as she continued her work at the desk she had been given. She was two files away from finishing the data work. Once the backups had ran, the Loris International computer files would be clean. What was to happen next with Loris, though, Brianne wondered? Would this scandal ruin the company? Would the company soon file for bankruptcy? Something had to be done to wipe away the mud that had effectively been flung at the company. Although Brianne had all of these legitimate concerns, such was the nature of Rita's conditioning that she hardly had the voice to demonstrate her firm conviction. The stunning and shapely secretary perpetually spoke in the lightest and the softest of tones whenever she said anything, regardless of her emotional state. Rita had wanted Brianne to be seen and adored, but heard? That was another story entirely. Every time the smoking hot secretary spoke, she would sound very timid. Even when she didn't want to come off that way. Once Brianne had finished fixing the data, she rose up, always fixing the creases in her dress as per her conditioned habit, and began clacking towards the door to Rita's nearby office. The routine was two raps on the door before coming in. Usually, Rita would flash a smile to her secretary, but her face remained ashen. Not a word emerged from the plump lips of the debutante as Brianne slowly approached her desk. It took her a moment, but she finally began to speak in her light, soft voice. "Madame Noble? Um...how are you feeling?" Two quiet minutes passed. The expression on Rita's face did not change, and she remained silent. "I...I just fixed the personnel data, Madame Noble," Brianne continued. "I ran the backups. We should be fine now. Is there anything else you would like me to do for you?" Rita remained quiet, just staring forward with half-lidded eyes. "Madame Noble, I-I was thinking...maybe...we could start up an ad campaign," Brianne remarked in her whispery voice. "Emphasize the sympathy. Maybe...we could put in a donation to an organization that fights Human Trafficking. There's got to be something we can do." All Rita did in response to this suggestion was to blink her eyes once. After a long moment of silence, Brianne glanced to the door of the office, and then gestured to it. "I...guess I'll...wait by my desk, then..." Once Brianne's hand grabbed the door handle, Rita's voice finally broke the silence that followed. "Don't go," She firmly commanded. The shapely secretary immediately turned around, and she saw that Rita was now looking right at her with a neutral expression. After another uneasy moment of silence, Rita spoke once again. "You weren't there," She began. "I won't expect you to understand." Brianne tilted her head curiously. "M-Madame?" Rita rose from her seat slowly, keeping her eyes on Brianne. "You weren't there that summer. Long ago." Brianne blinked in her confusion. "Where?" "Camp." The shapely secretary frowned. "What...kind of camp? You mean...like a summer camp?" Rita nodded. Brianne took a step in closer to her boss. "How long ago?" "I was just a girl," Rita began to slowly pace around Brianne now. "Mmm-mm. You did turn out better than I thought," Her hand rubbed against the long bulge clearly seen at the skirt of the one-piece, skin-tight dress. "You should be our next Pandora girl," Rita softly cooed into Brianne's ear. Brianne nodded slowly. "Anything you say," She cooed back. Rita giggled softly at this as her lips hovered very close to Brianne's. "Just the kind of thing I like to hear any former boy say to me," She then stepped away, turning back towards her desk. "Wish it could have been that way at Camp Awohali, but..." She turned back to Brianne, her tone now spiteful. "...I had to learn my hard lessons there, didn't I?" "What happened, Madame Noble?" The debutante took a deep breath as she summoned up the memories, bitterly closing her eyes as she did so. "Bonfire Night," Her eyes re- opened. "Second day of camp, and already, Brock Portnoy was pushing my buttons. Calling me all kinds of disgusting names. He had his own little gang of jerks, and whenever I was around, they just kept bothering me. I figured Bonfire Night would be a change for the better. 'Burn away all negative energy', the counselors said. Throw stuff in, watch it burn, begin a new and positive day for the rest of our time there. I actually bought all that psychological horseshit." Brianne kept attentive to Rita's words. "What did they do?" "Well, they couldn't do anything while I was still awake," Rita responded. "No, they waited until it was dark, and they tossed fresh new wood into the pyre. I didn't find out why until the next morning, when I was looking for my underwear. It was gone, Brianne. All gone. When we went to clean up the remains of the bonfire, I noticed burnt scraps of clothing which...turned out to be my underwear. All my panties, all my bras. Just fucking gone." Brianne now had a look of sympathy on her face. "I'm so sorry, Madame Noble." "That bastard Brock had the audacity to suggest that I start doing stripteases whenever the counselors weren't around," Rita's voice sounded more bitter now. "And before you think I never went to the counselors themselves about it? I did. I did. All they got for it was a scolding. They weren't even kicked out of camp for it. I had to bear Brock and his little entourage of jackasses for the entire time I stayed at the camp," Tears ran down her eyes by now. "I had to deal with the worst kind of sexual innuendo from those fuckers. They couldn't try anymore of those tricks, though. Oh no. That would get them kicked off the camp. But that didn't stop them from continuing to torment me!" Rita stopped a moment to try and regain her composure, letting a brief sobbing fit pass before fixing a hateful gaze upon Brianne. "I really wanted to kill those bastards," Rita intoned in a shaky voice. "Every last one of them. I had to hide behind religion just to get my mind off of it all. Just to fucking cope. You should have seen me when I first came to Bullchester. So prim and proper and...boring." "You're not any of that, though," Brianne interjected. "You're...you're stunning. Amazing. I could...I could worship you." Rita smiled now as she stepped towards Brianne once again. "Don't you already worship me, little boy?" The sexy secretary lowered to her knees now, looking up at Rita submissively. "Yes." Rita reached down and rubbed her hand against Brianne's cheek. "Good girl. I'm starting to feel better already." Brianne kept looking up to Rita. "Would you like me to rub your feet?" "No," Rita firmly replied. "That's not what I expect from you at all. You're my personal secretary, not some cheap slut. Get up off the ground and dust yourself off." Brianne quickly did so, feeling the sting of Rita's scolding. "I'm sorry...I'm really sorry, Madame Noble." A devious smile was now on Rita's face. "I should hope you are. Naughty little boy. Hiding behind a female chat handle. Now look at you. Now you are female, and every horny boy's sick, wet fantasy. It's just the kind of fate you deserve." Brianne lowered her head submissively. "Yes, Madame Noble." Rita placed a finger under the secretary's chin and lifted her head up. "But I should also say you're a pretty smart one, too, because I think I'm going to give your ideas consideration. You know...if anything comes of it, it's gonna mean one hell of a commission for you. Pretty big pay bonus," The shapely debutante then wrapped her arms around Brianne's head and pressed her body against the amazingly feminine figure of the former boy. "Well done, Brianne." The secretary blushed deeply. "Anything you say, Madame Noble." Rita brought her lips close to Brianne's ear, and spoke softly. "Go back to your desk..." The debutante rubbed her tongue teasingly against the edge of the secretary's ear. "...and type out some advertisement ideas for me." Brianne shuddered at the feel of Rita's tongue. "Y-yes...Madame Noble." Rita watched her new personal secretary sway her hourglass figure back over to her desk, where she immediately began typing things out. The alluring head of Loris International smiled as she kept her eyes upon the former boy. Tonight, she had surprised Rita by actually helping her through a bout of bitter depression. Although the bitterness of those old summer camp memories would always linger, Rita was able to set that all aside as she kept watching the shapely secretary do her work. It was to her own personal amusement that Rita discovered...prior to taking him in...that Brian Parker was in fact the son of one of those camp counselors at Camp Awohali who had denied Rita the justice she wanted. * * * As Tamara and Maggie traveled to a different locale every day to avoid being raided at a single place, the former boy did not know much about where they were beyond the hotel she and Maggie had chosen for temporary lodgings. As she had plenty of money from her earnings, paying for a cab was not an issue. As per Maggie's instructions, she paid in cash to avoid an account trace. Predictably, Maggie was once again away on business. Perhaps to arrange a new place for them to stay. By now, the constant moving was beginning to wear on Tamara's patience. She now knew what Maggie meant when she had mentioned how hard it would be to basically live the life of a fugitive. She began to miss having a single place to live. To come home to after school. Or in this case, work. To have a mother waiting for her. The voice of the cab driver broke the silence of her thoughts. "Your face," He spoke in a Slavic accent. "Eet look familiar." Tamara blinked. The driver did not look familiar to her in any way. "Uh...sorry?" "I have seen your face before," The driver responded. "Saw eet een magazine. I have een back. Very nice face." Her curiosity piqued, Tamara scanned the back seat area, and found a couple of magazines slipped into a pocket on the rear of the driver- side seat. She saw a Sports-based magazine peeking out. "I'm in a sports mag?" She asked. "I'm not an athlete." "No, no. Behind that mag," The driver answered. "Ees not eenglish mag." Tamara took a closer look at the large black leather pocket...and sure enough, a second magazine was behind the american sports mag. Pulling it out, she saw that the magazine was indeed written in stylized russian. From the nature of the pictures, the mag looked like a russian version of one of the Loris International fashion magazines, only this one had an emphasis on less conventional styles. Flipping through it, she did not see any familiar visuals...until she flipped through the last few pages. She finally spotted the russian-written advertisement. Much to Tamara's surprise, she saw one of the rockabilly-style pictures one of Maggie's studio photographers had taken sometime ago. It was a full-page ad, too. Tamara was scantily-clothed in latex swimwear, coiffed in the large, 1950s-style hair arrangements, with nicely-done makeup to go with it. Tamara's eyes widened...but at the same time, she was curious as to what the writing was all about. She did notice that there were no company insignias relating to Loris International. "Wow..." The former boy whispered to herself. "Nice, yes?" The driver remarked. "I see you find your peecture. You look goot, yes?" "Wish I could understand what the words meant," Tamara mumbled. "I don't know any russian. What kind of ad is this for?" "New line of sveemvear," The driver answered. "Vun line say, 'deeferent never look thees goot'." As Tamara nodded, she saw that the cab was slowing to a stop, and settling into a parking area. Looking out the passenger window, it was clear that the address was indicative of an upscale hotel. Re- examining the text message Julia had sent her, she saw that while there was an address and a time, there was no room number. She had arrived with an hour or so to spare, so she hoped she was not too early. The spiky-haired, adolescent cabbie craned his head back, smiling to his passenger. "We have arrive, my dear." Tamara handed off the fare, and a large tip. "Thanks." "Nyet. Thank you, lovely lady," The cabbie mused. "Hope to see you een more mags. Zat ad? Ees een many mags een Russia. Beelboards, too." Tamara flashed a smile as she made her way out of the cab. "I...don't have time to sign an autograph, sorry." The cabbie's eyes lingered upon Tamara, and she couldn't help but wonder what the adolescent driver was thinking in that moment. The expression he had on his face did look a bit lecherous to her, and she worried that the driver would make another more...unexpected initiative. But the cab slipped out of the parking area and drove away. With a more relieved sigh, Tamara headed towards the hotel lobby. This was an impressively tall building for a hotel. If it were any bigger, it would be a skyscraper. Quietly heading towards the lobby's reception area, the pleasant- looking young woman at the front desk flashed a cordial smile. "May I help you?" "Hi, um...I'm meeting someone here. Can you tell me if someone named Julia Stroud has gotten a room here?" "Stroud...yes, that name does sound familiar..." The woman checked at her computer terminal, tapping a few keys before her inquisitive gaze became a nod of acknowledgement. She then looked up to Tamara. "One moment, please." Scanning a shelf beneath the desk surface in front of her, she pulled what looked like a key card and handed it to Tamara. "That's for you. Miss Stroud left instructions for you to head up and use that." The former boy nodded, examining the key as she spoke. "Do you know what room she's in?" "She took the penthouse," The desk woman replied. "Top floor." Tamara blinked in her surprise, and then nodded. "Thanks." The desk woman flashed a full grin. "Have a nice night, Miss." Stepping into an open elevator, she took a deep and thoughtful breath. Although she was initially surprised at Julia's acquisition of a penthouse room, Julia was a Mayoress. A big room for a big shot. Tamara mused to herself. Of course she took the Penthouse. A few people came in and out as the elevator began its trek upward. A couple of them glanced to Tamara with suggestive expressions, but the former boy maintained her ignorance of such obvious invitations to sexual situations. One of them...a large, muscular, tattooed black man with a sleeveless white shirt, silken trunks and a pair of high-top basketball sneakers who easily towered over Tamara...kept the elevator at one of the floors as he fixed an annoyed look to the former boy. "You got a problem, bitch? Damn! Like you never had big black cock before," He stepped in closer, and in a threatening manner, to Tamara as he challenged her. "You a racist or somethin'?" "No," Tamara tried to keep her composure as she calmly spoke. "But I do work for an attorney. I'm here to meet a Mayor, too. I don't have time for your 'big black cock'." An unsavory smile was now on the man's lips as he had Tamara backtrack against a wall of the elevator. He then loudly slammed a hand next to her head, forcing her to flinch with the loud bang. "You makin' time, ho." In that moment, Tamara closed her eyes. She couldn't tell whether it was fear, or excitement, that she was feeling at that moment. His blatantly dominant nature was beginning to make her body quiver. A part of her felt compelled to surrender herself, particularly since they were the only ones in the elevator. Why am I feeling this way? She thought. I should be screaming for help, but...I don't...want to... As much as she didn't want to show this big stranger any fear, her breaths were shaky as he remained provocatively close to her. "Yeeeeah..." She heard him unzip his pants as he spoke. "...you do want this, don'cha, bitch? I can see it in yo' eyes..." "HEY!" A loud, lightly-accented voice called out from behind the black man. "What's goin' on here?" Much to Tamara's relief, this well-built man was wearing a security outfit. She figured he could easily handle aggressors like the one in front of her. Her response, however, was hesitant. She could feel sweat forming on her body. Tamara also caught the scent of an inescapably stimulating odor coming from where the large black man had opened up his crotch. "He's trying to force himself on me," She finally, distressfully blurted out. The security man's hand was now on the gun holstered at his hip. "Step out of the elevator right now, big guy." The now-intimidated aggressor zipped his pants back up as his eyes lingered upon the guard, and he raised his hands as he turned around. "OK...OK, whitey. I'm comin' out. Whasamatta, can't find any spics ta lock up? Always gotta go after us brothas?" The guard smirked. "Uh-huh. I'm Hispanic. How nice of you to be so complimentary. Get out of there now, gringo," He pulled the man out completely with a strong tug. Holding on tightly to his arm, the guard turned his head to Tamara with a less threatening expression. "Do you want to press charges, ma'am?" Tamara let out a sigh of relief, although she also could not help but feel disappointed as well. "He didn't actually hurt me, so no. Thank you." The guard nodded, smiling cordially. "Have a nice night, ma'am." Tamara nodded, still shaking a bit, as the doors slid shut. She noticed that the black man, who was still looking at her, had a lecherous smile on his lips as the doors closed. Obviously, he figured she'd run into him again. And if he did, she really would be in for a rough ride, whether she wanted it or not. Tamara had to take a few deep, relaxing breaths. The scent of the man's crotch was still on her mind, and she was still a bit shaky from the experience. She didn't know what to expect when the elevator arrived at the penthouse level and the doors parted, seeing as how Tamara had never been in a penthouse before. Not even as the boy she used to be. But Tamara did not expect to see the half-naked presence of Julia Stroud herself standing on the other side of the elevator doors, her torso uncovered and her breasts in full, unobstructed view, when they slowly slid to the sides to allow for Tamara's passage. She still had a pair of brown slacks on, however, although below the cuffs of each sleeve of the slacks, a bare foot rested against the smooth, clean floor beneath her. Julia was smiling, knowing her bare-chested appearance would startle her guest in some way, as the doors parted. "Good evening, Tammy." Tamara rubbed the back of her neck somewhat nervously. She was still trying to put the previous encounter out of her mind. "Hi." Julia tilted her head to the side, obviously noticing how flustered her guest looked as she gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the open elevator, which quietly slid shut behind her. "Tammy? Why are you trembling?" "I...ran into someone. Some big black guy," Tamara responded. She noticed that the electric lights in the large, posh-looking penthouse had been turned off, and that a variety of sweet, spicy-scented candles were providing the very expensive-looking residence with its flickering illumination. "Thought I was a racist just because I was minding my own business. Figured he'd use that as an excuse to force himself on me. I'm fine, though. A security guard stopped him before he did anything." "Hmmm. Sounds like a potentially traumatizing experience," Julia replied. "But...you said he never actually did anything to you. Didn't touch you, right?" Tamara nodded. "I would think that if he did, I would understand your being as flustered as you are now. How close did he come to you?" Tamara shrugged as they stepped into the large living room, which had a very comfy-looking sofa. "Close enough." Julia stopped her, and then moved right up to Tamara. Close enough to be able to feel her warm breath on her face as the Mayoress cooed her words. "Was he...this close?" Tamara initially felt compelled to shoot back a rebuke over what she surmised to be Julia's own clear inclination towards sex...but in the next moment, the former boy just nodded. "Umm...m-more or less." "You weren't scared, were you?" Julia asked, still gazing into Tamara's nervous eyes. "He...excited you, didn't he?" "Julia..." Obviously, Maggie's attempt to suppress Rita's conditioning wasn't as effective as I thought. Julia mused to herself as her lips moved close to Tamara's ear. "Did you want to feel his big, black cock get pushed into your warm, hungry slit?" She slowly asked, her voice clearly enticing as she purred the words. Tamara sighed. "Julia, I-I really don't..." "Don't you want to even try to understand why you were feeling the way you did?" Julia gently chided, her interjection eliciting a quick gasp from her clearly flustered guest. "You weren't always female, after all." The Mayoress of Bullchester slowly paced behind Tamara as she worriedly replied. "I...I don't know why. Why I-I felt the way I did, I mean. I wanted to scream, at first, but...but I stopped myself," Julia began to softly massage Tamara's shoulders as she spoke. "Why did I do that? I mean...I knew it was wrong, what..." The rubbing made Tamara feel a little more relaxed. "...what he was...doing..." "Maybe there's a little voice inside you that craves such things, Tammy," Julia cooed into the nervous former boy's ear. "It's not unusual for someone to get a sexual thrill from not being in control. From having someone order you around," She slowly moved her lips to Tamara's other ear. "Lower to your knees. Now." Tamara, however, stayed on her feet. She did not speak a word of defiance, however. "Get down on your knees..." Julia kept her tone soft. "...or I will text our location to Mistress Celeste. I'll give up Maggie, too." Tamara's eyes widened over this unexpected threat. "But...you promised...!" Julia nodded. "And if you don't do as I tell you, I will break that promise," The Mayoress once again spoke into her nervous guest's ear, her tone a little more sharp. "Get. On. Your. Knees." After another quiet moment of indecision, Tamara slipped out of her shoes, and her body finally began to lower to the ground. The Mayoress slowly nodded as she looked down upon Tamara. "Take off your blouse." Another brief moment of hesitation was followed by the hands of her guest beginning to unbutton her green silk blouse. Once she had completely unbuttoned herself, she slipped the blouse off of her body, revealing her ordinary-looking white bra. Julia then re-positioned herself in front of the former boy, and then pulled down her slacks. Tamara found herself staring, very unexpectedly, upon a large, erect penis. While the scent wasn't as strong as what she had whiffed in her elevator encounter, the odor certainly served as a reminder. A reminder that was once again arousing her. A smile began to form on the lips of the Mayoress as Tamara stared upon it. "See anything you like?" Tamara's gaze quietly lingered upon the rigid phallus. It never occurred to the former boy that Julia herself was a shemale. "It may not be black..." Julia mused. "...but it sure is big, isn't it? I can literally change the life of a man with this," I can also make men...and women just like you...totally devoted to me, too. She deviously mused to herself. But I won't poison your mind tonight, my pudgy little pet. Tamara arched her head up to the eyes of the smiling Mayoress. "You were a guy once?" Julia shook her head. "I was born female, dear. This was a surgical addition," She took a step towards Tamara so she could rub the large, rigid cock against her cheek. The scent of her crotch was naturally stronger now. "It certainly feels real, doesn't it? Warm...fleshy...appetizing..." Tamara swallowed hard as she felt the skin of Julia's rigid penis rub against her face. If the Mayoress had not revealed that the large phallus was surgically added, the former boy would not have been able to tell if it was at all. "We have detailed files on you, Timothy Portnoy," Julia softly remarked as she continued to tease Tamara with her penis. "We know everything about you. Your childhood particularly interested me. Mama's boy. Very unlike your dad, even though he did try to get you into the kinds of...ugly 'guy' things he enjoyed," The Mayoress ran a hand through Tamara's hair as she began to perspire. "Rise." Tamara slowly rose to her feet. "Take off your skirt, secretary girl." Once again, she felt as she did in the elevator with the dominant black man. That inner rush that she could not pin down as fear, or excitement. The element of danger was certainly there, seeing as how Julia had revealed that disobedience would bring not only her days as a fugitive, but Maggie's, to an end. Unclasping the knee-high gray flannel skirt, Tamara slipped it off. Beneath, she had plain white cotton panties on. Julia giggled. "And I thought Maggie would have had you wearing something a little more...suggestive. Sexy, even. You're practically in tighty-whiteys, Tammy..." She paced behind her nervous-looking guest as she spoke. "...and I think that's embarrassing. I want you to take them off." Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bra and slipped the garment off, letting her large breasts bounce free. She dropped the white panties on top of the discarded bra once they, too, were pulled down, and then off of her legs. Julia nodded in her satisfaction. "Good girl," She then pointed to the ground. Tamara knew what she meant by this, and the naked secretary lowered herself back down, coming to rest on her knees. "Now stay put," Julia calmly instructed as she stepped into another room of the penthouse. Tamara heard the sounds of shifting fabrics as she quietly waited. The former boy guessed that the Mayoress was putting on a new outfit. When Julia stepped back out with her hair in an imperious updo, Tamara was proven right upon seeing the shiny black latex outfit which had a large chest hole that not only exposed the valleys of her cleavage, but it also had another hole at her crotch that showed off her hairless, rigid cock standing at attention. The outfit was decorated with a row of steel spikes which surrounded her waist. While Tamara could see the topknot of the hair of the Mayoress coming out of a hole, the rest of Julia's face was also encased in shiny black leather save for a pair of eyeholes, a nose hole, and openings for her mouth and her ears. The former boy could also hear the faint jingling of what sounded like a small steel chain behind the Mayoress. Tamara's eyes went between Julia's face and the phallus between her legs as the Mayoress slowly approached her. "You know...when Rita was working on you, she wanted you to become nothing more than her personal slut. Just a sex toy for her to fool around with whenever she had free time," Once again, Julia began mercilessly teasing Tamara with her own cock, rubbing it against her face as she tried to ignore it. "Your encounter on the elevator, and your reaction to my threats to betray you to Celeste, is clearly showing me that you still...want...this." "Please...your honor..." Tamara's eyes squeezed shut as Julia continued to caress the former boy's face with her cock. The odor was once again arousing her as well. "...I...I'm Larry Hanel's...ssss...ssecretaryyyy..." "Larry Hanel is a married man, Tammy," Julia reminded as she rested her cock on the bridge of Tamara's nose. "Although I often wonder if you've ever teased him otherwise, or if he teased you. Don't you think it would be a shame to ruin a good man's marriage over a nasty affair?" The now-quivering Tamara's eyes had opened as Julia spoke, and her eyes lingered on the rock-hard phallus resting on her nose. "I...I won't...he's nice...he...he's my friend..." "He's a man, you silly, sexy girl," Julia now rubbed the still-dry cockhead around Tamara's lips. "Sooner or later, he'll be teasing you the same way I'm teasing you now, and his marriage will no longer matter to him compared to his want for you to rub his own cock between your big, fat tits. You're still a prisoner to urges Rita Noble buried very deeply into your mind." Tapping her cock upon Tamara's forehead in emphasis of her last sentence, Julia stepped behind the former boy and knelt down, grabbing one of Tamara's wrists. She felt hard steel surround this wrist as Julia pulled the handcuffs she had hung on one of the latex outfit's spikes from behind her and clicked it shut. Julia made sure the restraint wasn't too tight around her wrists. Tamara frowned. "Y...you're arresting me??" Julia laughed aloud as she clicked the other cuff shut around Tamara's other wrist. "No," Her lips then enticingly spoke into the worried secretary's ear. "I just want you to feel helpless, because I now know how much that excites you. And yes, I do have the key...but you're going to have to earn your freedom, Tammy dear." Tamara blinked in confusion. "How?" A lecherous smile was now on Julia's face as she rose back up, and then stepped back in front of her worried, kneeling guest. "Mmmmm...you had to ask," She then stepped in closer to Tamara, once again bringing her large penis in closer to the plus-sized secretary's face. The Mayoress then positioned the head of her cock against Tamara's lips. "Kiss it." The cuffed, kneeling secretary slowly puckered her lips, pushing them against the head of Julia's cock. But then, she felt compelled to give it a more proper smooch, sliding her lips over the skin surrounding the cock's slit. A sense of excitement began to take hold inside her. Julia's own lips slowly formed a devious smile. "That's it," She placed one hand on Tamara's head, running her fingers through the cuffed secretary's hair, while her other hand held her cock steady as Tamara continued to kiss it. The urge took the former boy by surprise as she found herself passionately panting, and licking around the cockhead. Responding to subliminal urges that now seemed to come to the fore. Urges which, while suppressed by Maggie's counter-conditioning, were never actually performed. The floodgates were now, quite obviously, on the verge of shattering with every lick and every kiss Tamara willingly applied unto the head of the rigid cock of the Mayoress. The former boy's resistance to these urges Rita had programmed within her was clearly fading. Julia then placed her hands on the sides of Tamara's head, pulling her away from the cockhead of the Mayoress, and angling the secretary's head up to her. The Mayoress smiled. "Have you ever rubbed someone's cock...with the crack of your ass?" She softly asked as she stroked Tamara's hair. "Yours is big enough to handle a cock like mine." "N-no, Your Honor," Tamara replied. Julia arched an eyebrow. "No? No, as in...you won't do it, or no, you've never done it before?" Tamara swallowed hard. "I've...never done it before." Julia smiled. "Mmmm. You clearly have a lot to learn. Rita didn't teach you much about how to be a good slut, did she?" As much as Tamara wanted to protest this, she had to remain quiet and let it go for now. What Julia was no doubt hinting at in these exercises was elementary enough. Behave, and do as the Mayoress instructed, and Julia would uncuff her. Besides...the curiosity about rubbing Julia's cock with her big ass was also evident in her mind. Julia took a small step away from Tamara, still looking down at the kneeling secretary. "Get up, Tammy." Tamara tried to ignore the soreness in her legs as she rose up, wincing as she ascended. "Now, turn around and take one step backwards towards me," Julia instructed. The former boy complied, after which she felt the warm flesh of Julia's cock placed against the separating line between Tamara's cheeks. "Time to give your legs more of a workout...and don't you dare complain about the pain," She heard Julia remark. "Bounce. Slowly. Up and down, pressing your ass against my cock. I want to feel that big butt rubbing against it." Tamara hoped she wouldn't stumble and fall as she did this, but she was not wearing heels, so this was less likely as she began bobbing up and down, feeling the rounded outer skin of Julia's cock sliding between her butt-cheeks. "Mmmm. Good. That's it," Julia purred. "Keep it up." Tamara expected, at some point, to feel this big, hard cock suddenly dig into her from behind. A part of her actually craved this sudden action. She didn't care which of her holes Julia might bury it into. She wanted to feel that long, hard, real cock inside her, sliding in and out. After maintaining this manner of rubbing for a good fifteen minutes, the arms of the Mayoress wrapped around Tamara from behind and her hands began to grope and rub the big breasts of the secretary, the arms lifting Tamara up from her leaning stance and pressing her against the Mayoress. The rubbing clearly aroused the former boy, and she panted lustily as she felt the warmth of Julia's body against her own. Tamara's eyes closed as she panted loudly, savoring the feeling of having her nipples tweaked and teased by the Mayoress. Julia whispered right into Tamara's ear as she rubbed. "Don't you feel so much better as a woman? One of us? That's what you'll always be," Julia licked around the ear with her warm, moist tongue. "One of us. No matter where you go," She nibbled at Tamara's earlobe. "One of us...one of us...a girl," Another lick. "A red hot secretary," Another nibble. "Mmmy little bitch." Tamara was burning up with lust inside by now. Her eyes remained closed as she arched her head against the shoulder of the Mayoress, panting loudly with an open mouth. "Yesss..." She whispered passionately. "...y-yyyeeessss..." Julia, of course, concentrated herself against the urge to ejaculate, or even kiss Tamara on the lips. She had no desire to bring the secretary under her irresistible control through her saliva or her semen. Not yet, at least. It didn't seem like that would be necessary anyway. Tamara was responding to Julia's own sexual influence quite capably. The Mayoress was not too surprised. After all...this used to be a boy whose sexual experience was practically negligent before he ran into Rita. And even while Rita was programming him in his transition, he must not have had any actual sexual experiences, which was ironic. As much as Julia wanted to keep this going all night, she had to proceed with the next step of her plan, which meant that her slow subjugation of Maggie's little pet needed to stop. For now. "Hold still," Julia whispered into Tamara's moist ear. "Don't move." Tamara heard a slight jingling as she waited. She then felt the steel of her handcuffs shake a little. The former boy sighed out softly in her relief as Julia freed her wrists from the cuffs. "Get dressed," was Julia's next command as she went into the other room. Tamara felt a bit of a sting to hear this. She wanted more. She wanted this to be real. She wanted to be penetrated. Kissed. Julia was attractive enough. Not quite as attractive as Maggie...but then, Maggie really didn't do much with her. Not like Julia had done with her tonight. With a look of disdain, Tamara collected her clothes and began putting them back on. Julia reappeared from the other room once Tamara was fully dressed. The Mayoress still had her S&M outfit on. In her hand was a loaded manila envelope. "Give this to Larry," Julia instructed. "Let him know you put this together. Do not mention me at all. Make up whatever excuse you want, so long as it doesn't involve me." Tamara frowned in confusion as she took it. "Can I ask what is inside?" "Evidence," Julia replied. "What's in here should make it easier for Larry to win his court case." Although Tamara was unsure if she could get away with what Julia was proposing, she did remember Larry saying that if she wanted to, she could do a little research about the case if it meant swinging the battle in Larry's favor... ...but she also became aware, in that moment, what Julia was potentially proposing. Julia would make Tamara a better secretary. An asset. A secret weapon, even. For as long as she pleased Julia, Tamara's job profile would improve significantly. Before the events which led to Tamara's mother going into witness protection, and essentially being assured of her safety and her anonymity, the former boy would have been hesitant to accept such a proposition. It was no different than cheating, plain and simple. And this was on the legal level, which was the textbook definition of perjury. But her mom was safe now. She had once noted to herself that her own life did not matter as much compared to her mother. If it meant sacrificing her freedom, she would have been willing to become whatever the Cresswell women wanted her to become. Now, clearly, the game of cat and mouse had evolved. After a moment of quiet consideration, Tamara took the envelope, nodding in acknowledgement. Julia rubbed a hand against Tamara's cheek. "You have nothing to worry about, Tamara. So long as you never mention my name, there won't be any denying that the information in that envelope came from you. Trust your Mayoress," She then wrapped her arms around the secretary to hug her. "You'll see me again. I promise. Very soon. Watch for my text," She gently spoke into Tamara's ear as they hugged. When Julia pulled away, she blew a kiss to the secretary, who already looked a bit anxious for that next text. "Good night, Tammy. Get home safe." Julia guided her back to the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, the smiling Mayoress gave Tamara a sultry wink. The former boy could not help but blush. As the elevator began its descent, she found herself wondering if she would encounter that big, black man again. Seeing as how he was probably going to be in a bit of trouble over the previous encounter, she found this highly unlikely. The trip down to the lobby turned out to be uneventful, and Tamara walked out quietly, bringing out her smartphone to do an online hail for a car service. She hoped she could get back to the hotel room in advance of whenever Maggie was expected back. During the return trip, Tamara had to wonder if Maggie would ever engage in any manner of playtime with her. At the moment, she could not help but feel a little frustrated over the constant, undefined business Maggie engaged in that was supposed to keep them both safe. She also had to make sure Maggie didn't see the envelope she had with her. Fortunately, Tamara was able to manage hiding it beneath her clothes, securing it as best she could against the tight elastic at the waist of her skirt, the blouse and the skirt hiding it from view. She counted herself fortunate, upon arriving at the Hotel room, that Maggie had not returned, so she was able to capably store it away. Although she was relieved that Maggie was not present, Tamara began to worry as well. She never imagined whatever this business was would keep her out as late as it was. She couldn't help but worry if something had happened to her. All Tamara could do, for the moment, was hope that Maggie would show up sometime while she was sleeping. The raven-haired woman was, after all, the primary reason they stayed not only safe, but mobile. Following a needed shower, Tamara slipped under the covers of her bed and began to relax herself. Even when her eyes finally closed for the night, however, there was still no sign of Maggie. XVI: Good Little Sluts Prior to the unfortunate stroke of bad luck, Waldo Pickering's future had officially beckoned. During his time at College, the young man...by virtue of his outstanding grades...had been selected to join a scientific 'think tank' group, although the locale required him to take a long trip by bus. The bus trip, however, needed to make a few stops before arriving at Waldo's destination. It was when the bus reached a stop in a city called Bullchester that bad luck...in the form of a crippling and unexpected malfunction that stopped Waldo's bus in its tracks...reared its ugly head. The few riders left on that bus...Waldo included...were in a fairly bad spot. The next bus would not arrive until 7 a.m., leaving the riders little choice but to find lodgings somewhere within the Bullchester region. Unfortunately, Waldo did not have the kind of money that would make it possible for him to be able to purchase such a convenience. While the other riders were pulling out cell phones and making calls to various hotels, Waldo was left worrying about his situation as his bags were unloaded from the broken down bus along with everyone else's belongings. He actually had nightmares of being forced to sleep in the outdoors, and wearing nothing but his underwear to boot. Was such a nightmare about to become real, he thought? All he could do was to stack up his own pieces of luggage and sit upon the top one, his face a mask of perpetual worry as he began to think on his situation. Think of a possible alternative to an unavoidable outdoor nap at a bus stop in a neighborhood he knew nothing at all about. As he sat idly, looking around quite nervously, he noticed that the other riders were beginning to disappear into the passenger seats of cabs they had hailed or contacted through related online apps. An hour later, Waldo sat alone at the bus stop. A cold breeze picked up, and he shuddered from the evening chill as he crossed his arms in front of him, shaking as he grasped his forearms. Five minutes later, the headlights of a slow-moving car turned in Waldo's direction as it rolled towards where he had been sitting. The young man's initial suspicion was that this would be someone asking for directions. And he would be the worst possible choice in looking for someone to ask about anyplace in a town he had never been in before. But instead of the driver pulling up close enough to speak through the passenger window, the car stopped at the space to his left. The headlights died along with the engine, and the car's sole occupant...a woman...stepped out of the driver side. Her facial features looked harsh as she casually walked over to where the stranded young man was sitting. She was a short-haired woman with wide, stern-looking eyes. Effeminately slim, she nevertheless had an intimidating expression on her face as she closed the distance between her and Waldo. Stopping in front of the young man, who wore a blue and white-striped button-down cotton shirt and a pair of tan-colored slacks, the woman crossed her arms in front of her as her humorless gaze lingered on him. Although he tried to ignore her, she broke the silence after a quiet, but tense minute. "So you plan on staying out here all night?" She began. "You do realize that the next bus isn't due until..." "Seven. Yeah, I know..." Waldo interjected. "...but I...I don't have a lot of money on me. Not enough to stay anyplace, anyway...and I don't know anyone here." The woman arched an eyebrow. "Well, that's pretty stupid of you," She chided. "You should have had standby funds in case something like this happened. So now, your plan is to freeze to death out here?" Waldo sighed out, seeing his own breath form a brief mist in front of his mouth. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?" The woman tilted her head to the side. "Do you always give up that quickly?" "Well, what am I gonna do??" Waldo whined. "You can stop behaving like a pathetic little sissy boy, for starters," The woman shot back. "You can also stop being such a smartass when you speak to me. I didn't have to come over here and check on a total stranger who happens to be stranded, so don't you think you should be grateful for my being so curious about your situation?" The words stung a bit, and his voice was a little more timid when he responded. "I...I'm sorry. You're right, but...well, I never expected something like this to happen." The woman smirked. "That's painfully obvious. Tell me your name." "Waldo," The young man answered. "Waldo Pickering." The woman nodded slowly as he replied. In the privacy of her thoughts, she had remembered seeing that last name in a database. One of the Pickerings had married someone from the Wilson family. "My name is Celeste," The woman replied. "Now...is there something you wanted to ask me, Waldo?" The shivering young man looked puzzled at this. All he could do was shrug. This didn't amuse Celeste at all. "So you want me to leave you out here? All alone? To fend for yourself? Bullchester isn't the safest place at night, you know," She then began to walk back to her car, feigning sudden disinterest. "But, if that's what you want..." Celeste couldn't help but smirk in amusement upon hearing the desperation in Waldo's voice as he fearfully interjected. "No, wait! Wait! I...are you...are you...insinuating that there is someplace I can stay for the night? Maybe?" He hurried over to the driver side of the car as he spoke. Celeste slowly turned her head towards the desperate teenager. "Perhaps...but you should know that it's gonna cost you." "I told you. I don't have much mon..." "I know what you said!" Celeste viciously interjected. "But there are other ways of compensating someone, you know. You can keep your money, but you will pay me in ways that only I will dictate. Is that clear?" Although Waldo was obviously very hesitant to trust someone he had just met, the alternative was not something he was willing to consider. Besides, if it was only for one evening... "Okay," He slowly nodded his head in confirmation. Celeste popped open the trunk with the flick of a switch in her car. "Get your bags. Load in quickly." Waldo nodded. "Um...can you move the car closer to my bags?" "No." The young man nodded again as he hurried over to where his luggage awaited him. Dragging them over, he opened the trunk wider and lifted each of his heavy luggage pieces into the empty spaces. He found that he could not fit the last bag, so he closed the trunk and rolled the final bag over to the backseat passenger side and opened the car door. "Did I tell you you could use the back seats to store your luggage?" Celeste inquired as he began moving the luggage to the seat space. Waldo blinked once. "But...I ran out of room in the trunk." Celeste sighed, although she was enjoying the authoritarian behavior she was inflicting on Waldo deep down inside. "I guess I'll have to add that to your 'bill', so to speak. This is just one of many things you will have to compensate me for, Waldo. In fact, while you are with me, I will now expect you to acknowledge me by saying 'yes, Miss Celeste' whenever I tell you to do something, or whenever you need to acknowledge me. Understood?" Waldo nodded in acknowledgement. "Okay." "Excuse me? I could pull out of here with your bags and leave you stranded!" Celeste warned. "Acknowledge me properly, Waldo." The teenager blushed deeply. "Yes, Miss Celeste." Celeste nodded in acknowledgement. "Make sure I hear you. Every time. Now get in. Sit next to your bag back there." "Yes, Miss Celeste," He settled into the comfy seat space next to the luggage piece and closed the car door. Warm air eased the chill from the outside, and he finally settled in to relax as the car pulled away from the bus stop. Waldo looked very nervous as the car continued its journey. Knowing nothing about this woman, he began to wonder if accepting this ride would become a mistake from which there was no turning back. It could even be a fatal one. "So where were you going, Waldo?" Celeste suddenly asked. "Huh? Oh, uh...well, you could say it's a...a gathering of scientific minds," The young man responded. "If I told you any more details, I'd have to kill ya," He sarcastically added. "Uh-huh," Celeste looked only mildly amused by the attempt at levity. Waldo shrugged, sounding overly confident. "It's a pretty big deal kind of thing." Celeste smirked. "And they only take people who seem to think they're big deals?" Waldo nodded, grinning. "I intend to prove it when I join the think- tank." A slight smile was on Celeste's face. It was one Waldo could not see, as her eyes were on the road. Obviously, her mind was contemplating what manner of feminine fate she was going to arrange for this clearly egotistical science geek. The car settled at a parking space next to the Cincher's nightclub. Waldo frowned in his confusion. "This is where you live?" "No," Celeste replied as she angled her head to her curious, bespectacled backseat passenger. "But you and I are going in anyway." Waldo blinked in his surprise. He had never cared for nightclubs. Too much of a potential distraction from activities that he felt were far more important to him. "Why?" "Because I said so, that's why," A glaring Celeste shot back. "Out." Sighing, the adolescent science aspirant opened the passenger side door and stepped back out into the cold climate outside, holding his arms as he hurried over to follow behind Celeste, who was about a head taller than him in size. Her high-heeled shoes clacked intimidatingly on the pavement below her as she moved. When they reached the entrance, Celeste turned to her shivering companion. "There's two ways you can do this. You either pay for yourself, or I pay for you. If I have to pay for you, that will be another bit of compensation you'll owe me, and you're already mounting up a lot of debt as it is." Asking about the cover charge, Waldo found that he could cover it with his own funds, so he agreed to pay for himself. Celeste seemed a little disappointed at this, but continued to lead Waldo past the entrance gate and into the club itself, where a heavy-set, but nevertheless attractive, woman in a racy outfit stepped over to Celeste. "Evening, Maggie," Celeste's expression was neutral as she spoke. "Good evening, Celeste," The grinning woman cordially replied. "The show should begin in about ten minutes. We have your spot all ready for you and your friend there." Celeste just nodded as Maggie turned her attention to Waldo. "Good evening, dear. Welcome to Cincher's. You don't need to look so nervous. We don't bite. Much," Maggie then stepped up close to the young man, bringing the cleavage of her dress closer to his eyes. "Unless you want us to, that is," She rubbed his hair in the manner of a pet as she alluringly spoke. Waldo already looked visibly flustered. "Um...w-what kind of show is this?" "Oh, it's just a lively little revue," Maggie answered. "With our newest acquisitions...two of the sexiest young bunnies you'll ever see...dominating the stage." The bespectacled young man nodded. "Oh. Uh...nice." Maggie led her two arrivals to a table with a pair of seats right up at the front of the stage. Waldo settled into his seat, while Celeste remained standing. Her hands were on her hips and a scowl was on her face. "A boy as smart as you can't be a gentleman?" Celeste chided. "You can't be bothered to pull the seat out for me to sit in?" "Huh? Oh...uh...sorry..." Celeste sighed as Waldo rose back up and pulled out the seat for Celeste to sit upon. He then pushed it inward a bit before going back to his own seat. "You have far too much to learn, Waldo," Celeste curtly reminded her companion, who was blushing in embarrassment as they both waited for the show to start. When the lights finally dimmed, a smattering of applause from the sparse, but attentive crowd in the seats at the tables near the stage preceded Maggie's approach to the microphone at the front of the stage. She grinned and nodded in acknowledgement before addressing the evening's guests. "Welcome to Cincher's, ladies and gentlemen!" Maggie began. "And now, we present to you our two newest bunnies, ready and...quite anxious to ravage your psyche, and tempt you into doing the naughtiest things. Keep your hands to yourself, though! Unless, of course, they guide your hands where most men fear to grope! Here they are...the hallucinogenic hyper-erotica that is Debby and Lenore, both of whom prefer to be known as..." Maggie pulled the microphone stand with her as she flourished to the stage space behind her. "...BLISS!" Colorful lights illuminated the stage once Maggie was gone, and a music tune began playing. Waldo recognized it as a broadway tune called "Dance: Ten, Looks: Three", from the show called A Chorus Line. He remembered seeing his cousin doing the show years ago with a repertory company. The first of the two women, however, grabbed his attention immediately as she began to lip-sync the spoken dialogue that opened the song. Her outfit was hardly the dance leotard it was supposed to be, though. It was much, much more skimpy, sheer, and revealing. Waldo found himself entirely captivated by the woman's irresistible curvature. She was a perfect hourglass as she wiggled and jiggled about on the stage, dancing and lip-syncing to the song. He couldn't help but stare as his jaw hung down a bit. Midway through the song, the scantily-clad performer's eyes briefly went to Celeste, and then they settled upon Waldo as she reached the slow midsection of the song. Waldo blushed, and felt compelled to look away... ...but the performer, Lenore, came closer to him. In fact, she came down the trio of white steps in front of the stage to dance right in front of Waldo. As she was wearing a fluffy white boa, she began to tease the flustered young man with it before wrapping it around the back of his neck. A devious smile played on Celeste's lips as she watched Lenore lower herself onto Waldo's lap, holding his legs together with her big, sexy thighs. Waldo quaked terribly as he felt the bare, perfumed skin of Lenore's breasts between his cheeks. She pressed them against his head, rubbing them fetchingly as she continued her performance. The end of the song was nearing, and before it did, Waldo felt a hand grab at his hair and jerk his head back, forcing him to look upon Lenore's soft and exotically attractive face mouthing the final minutes of the song. She finished the performance by pressing her lips upon Waldo's. The young man's eyes boggled in disbelief! As the crowd applauded, Lenore slowly pulled her lips away and flashed a fetching grin unto her stunned guest. "Hi," She cooed as she remained upon his lap. Waldo was speechless as the next song began to play. Slowly, his head turned to face the stage once again. He recognized the song as the Flower duet, a song from an opera called Lakme which is performed by two women. Stepping out onto the stage was yet another shapely, platinum blond and sinfully voluptuous young woman who was also in sheer and revealing garments, these of a pink color. Waldo noticed that both women were lip-synching once again as the sweet melody began. Lenore's eyes were on Debby as they synched the lyrics soundlessly, letting the audio provide the voices as the young man stared at the pink-clad beauty dancing about onstage. Although Waldo was a bit more fixated on Debby's face. It looked...familiar, somehow. He tried to place it. The only possibility was entirely absurd. Because the person he surmised Debby to be was a male. As the performance continued, he dismissed it as mere coincidence as Debby neared where Waldo sat, descending the steps to stand right behind him. A grinning Lenore rose and stepped teasingly away from Waldo, while Debby ran the fingers of her delicate hands through the young man's hair passionately. Waldo's gaze was riveted as they continued their wildly suggestive performance. The song seemed to go longer than Waldo remembered. It was about two to three minutes in length, and yet, it seemed to go on for about five! Such was the way the club had engineered the audio for the recording of the Flower Duet, as this was a kind of "extended cut" of the song. Waldo, however, began to feel a little faint as he hyperventilated. His body was covered with sweat as the song finally ended. When Lenore and Debby finally stepped away from him to acknowledge the applauding crowd, he was a disheveled wreck trying to catch his breath. Fortunately, Celeste had signaled for a drink, and once they were off of him, Celeste handed him a glass of water to help him recover. She then maneuvered her chair directly behind him as the girls on stage prepared for their third musical number. Waldo was still shaking terribly, feeling a little numb in his fingers, as he drank down the water from the glass. The third music number Bliss began dancing to was a lively instrumental, and both ladies set to dancing quite provocatively in front of Waldo while remaining onstage. A few minutes into the song, Celeste brought her lips to Waldo's ear as he stared, transfixed. "You look like you're enjoying them," She whispered. Waldo said nothing. He just kept staring at the two incredibly attractive women jiggling their breasts in front of him, in time with the music's beat, on the elevated stage. "Do you want to see more of them?" Celeste spoke in his ear, loud enough for Waldo to hear. He nodded slowly as the girls giggled at him. "Do you want to meet them?" She next asked. Another nod from the transfixed young man. "Do you want to be them?" Celeste figured he was too dazed to comprehend her last question, but Waldo frowned in his confusion over hearing this unusual line of inquiry. "What?" He puzzlingly asked. "Don't you like them?" "Uh...yes," Waldo called back, keeping his eyes on the girls. "They're...they're very talented." "Mmmm. Smooth skin, big breasts..." Celeste cooed enticingly into his ear. "...big asses...a nice, curvy shape...you can't look away, can you?" Waldo smiled meekly. "Y-you must like women," He turned his head to look at Celeste. "Are you a lesbian?" It was at this point that the music ended, and once again, the two women acknowledged the crowd's applause. The house lights went up after the women went backstage, and the club atmosphere went casual once more as Celeste and Waldo continued to speak. "No, Waldo," Celeste replied. "I'm a scientist. Just like you want to be." The young man's eyes widened in his interest. "Really? Are you a Stanford graduate?" "Do I need to be?" Celeste countered. "I'm good at what I do, kid. I don't give a fuck where I learned it." Maggie stepped over to Waldo, smiling. "Did you enjoy that, dear?" "Huh? Oh, yes. Thank you," Waldo replied, smiling meekly. "It was...very nice." "Did you want to meet them?" Maggie then asked. Celeste, however, rose from her seat. "Actually, we were just leaving, Maggie," She gestured for Waldo to rise. "Ah, very well. Maybe you can come back tomorrow night, then," Maggie remarked as Waldo hesitantly rose from his seat. "We've been showing off those two little harlots every night since they started working here." "Well, uh...I'm just here for the night," Waldo responded. "I have to..." Celeste tugged him away from the grinning club owner. "You have to get back in the car, kiddo." Blushing, Waldo followed behind the dark-haired woman as her heeled feet clacked out of the club and back towards her car, where Celeste and Waldo took their places as driver and back-seat passenger, respectively. Once the car was back on the road, Celeste interrupted the silence. "I saw how you were looking at those ladies, Waldo. That was pretty shameful." Waldo immediately took a defensive tone in his response. "But...she..." "You were thinking shameful thoughts during that performance, weren't you?" Celeste next inquired. Waldo blushed, lowering her head. "Yes." Celeste shook her head. "Naughty boy. Just like any other guy. Disgusting." After a moment of tense silence, Celeste smirked when she heard him speak up in response. "I'm sorry," He quietly muttered. "I should hope you are," Celeste shot back. "Why it's in your nature to make life difficult for women like me, I'll never know." Waldo offered no response. The shame he was feeling was too great. He now wished he'd never touched that woman during the performance. Celeste could practically feel his shame. She felt compelled to deepen the wound. "It's pretty late, you know. If you have to get up as early as 7 a.m., that doesn't give you a lot of time to sleep." "Well, maybe if we didn't have to see that show you took me to..." Waldo inescapably chided. Celeste shrugged, smiling. "Thought you could use the entertainment. I saw how you were looking at those girls. Don't lie, kid. You loved it. If you didn't, you would have bugged me to leave early. But you didn't, did you?" Waldo sighed. On that point, she was spot on. As the ride continued, Waldo now began to wonder what kind of compensation this woman would be asking for. If it wasn't money... "Like I said before, Waldo. You have a lot to learn," The car pulled into a driveway and Celeste abruptly stopped the engine, after which she released her seatbelt. "Let's go." Stepping out of the car, Waldo found that a frigid breeze was in the air, and he was shivering his way over to where the front door to Celeste's considerably posh home was located. She unlocked the door and swung it wide open... ...but when Waldo began to follow her in, she turned to face her guest. "Wait." That was the last thing he wanted to hear, given how cold it was! The young science aspirant was practically hopping in place given the frigid air around him. Five silent minutes passed. For Waldo, it was five very torturous minutes. Celeste just stared at her guest without saying a single word, while her guest continued to shiver terribly from the wintery climate. "What are we waiting for??" Waldo irritably called out. A moment of silence followed, after which Celeste spoke. "I have your bags locked away in my trunk, and I have you standing out here in the cold," Celeste began. "If you do not do what I tell you tonight, I am going to throw you out of my home and leave you to freeze to death. Remember, too, that this is not a free lunch for you. You owe me. Understood?" Teeth chattering, he nodded. "Y-yes, Mmmm-Mmmiss Cel...C-CCelessste." "Good girl. Now you can come in," Celeste stepped to the side to allow Waldo to hurry into her home. Once he was inside and the front door was shut, he immediately noticed how toasty warm it was. The climate was practically a hot summer night, and his shivering stopped within seconds as he warmed up. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the heating comfort him like a warm blanket. Celeste turned to face her satisfied guest. "Now strip." Waldo's satisfied expression melted to one of confusion as he looked to Celeste. "Excuse me?" "You heard me," Celeste shot back. "Take your fucking clothes off. Now." The young man blinked in disbelief. He hesitantly began to comply, but he stopped before removing the sleeveless brown sweater he had on over his button-down dress shirt. "Could I at least keep my underwear on?" Celeste smirked. This would obviously add another 'debt'. "Fine." Waldo also feared her permission would incur another of those mysterious debts, but he really didn't want to be completely naked despite the climate. Fortunately, once he had removed everything other than his white t-shirt and his white boxers, the climate of the house remained comfortably warm. The woman's hands went to her hips as she glared at him. "So you're just going to keep them there? Your clothes? Pick them up, and then fold them up. I want them looking neat." Waldo naturally complied, naturally wanting to avoid another 'debt' as a punishment. Celeste folded her arms in front of her as she watched him work. Once he had the bundle of neatly-folded clothes in his arms, Celeste nodded. "Good. Follow me." The basement area was a scary sight to walk through. The scent of leather was distinct as Waldo followed the woman through basement spaces that looked more to him like a torture chamber. There were even box-like cages and X-shaped racks with manacles attached to them. Attached to hooks on the wall were whips, straps of leather, and latex outfits in colors of purple, red, white, pink, and black. Waldo seemed to walk a little slower as he surveyed these spaces. He suddenly bumped into Celeste, who had turned around and was once again scowling upon him with her arms crossed in front of him. Her scowl, however, melted into a more devious expression. The half- smile she now had on her face was unsettling. "Is that interest I see in your eyes, Waldo?" "Huh? Interest?" Waldo exclaimed. "In any of this? No! This is..." "Scary?" Celeste amusedly interjected. "Good. Now you know what you're in for if you don't satisfy me, girl." The woman turned around and resumed her progress to the laundry room of her home. As Waldo followed, there was a curiosity he had to risk asking about for the obvious reasons as he reciprocated the left turn leading into the laundry area. "Uh...Miss Celeste? Why are you calling me a girl?" Celeste immediately turned around. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to call you a boy?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm. "Shall I add that to your mounting debts?" Waldo swallowed audibly, and then shook his head fearfully. The woman stepped up close to the nervous young man, getting right in his face. "While you are in my house, I will call you whatever I want. You don't look very manly to me, so you might as well get used to it." As she spoke, Waldo kept thinking to himself that it would only be for one night, so he had to play along, no matter how humiliating this might turn out to be by the time he was ready to leave in the morning. "Now place your clothes here. On top of the dryer," Celeste gestured to the clear, smooth metal space on top of her dryer. Waldo complied, shivering from a draft of cold air as he did...or was that from his own light coating of sweat? "Now take off your underwear," Celeste then commanded. "Right now. Fold it, and place it on top of your clothes." Waldo's eyes widened. His movements were slow and hesitant as he pulled off his boxers and his white t-shirt. Folding them up, he placed the folded white bundle atop his clothes. Please don't make me crossdress. Waldo thought to himself. Over and over. Please don't make me crossdress. "Follow me," Celeste made her way out of the laundry room, and she went past the 'torture chamber' which made up the rest of the space in her basement. Again, Waldo's gaze drifted to the whips, the cages, and the latex outfits, effectively slowing his progress. Celeste occasionally glanced behind her, noting what seemed to be the young man's growing interest in her kinks. She knew that if he were truly scared of what he saw in her basement dungeon, his footsteps would be quicker. It was clear to her that his slow progress was much more indicative of curiosity than fear. Celeste led him back upstairs, and then stopped in a really nice- looking kitchen. She then turned to him. "Have you eaten?" Waldo nodded. "Yeah. Before I left. I'm not hungry." "Well, I am," Celeste responded as she pulled a white apron from a nearby closet and held it out to her naked guest. "Make me an omelette." Having seen his personal file in advance, as per Judith Newlington's interest in him, she knew Waldo had the talent for making such a dish, so the look of surprise on his face amused her as she sat at the table in the nearby dining room and waited. Waldo was, of course, unfamiliar with the kitchen setup, so it was mostly trial and error for him to get the ingredients together. Eventually, however, he was able to ignore the fact that he was wearing a women's apron, for one, and practically cooking in the nude, for the other. His fear of more debts drove him as he worked, and he was able to finish a decent omelette. He plated the meal, and walked in to place it before Celeste. "Took you long enough," Celeste quipped as she picked up a fork and sampled the meal. Waldo was understandably very nervous as he awaited the woman's assessment. She said nothing, however, although she continued to dine on the omelette as Waldo stood there quietly, attempting to maintain a veneer of patience. When Celeste was finished, she nodded in what seemed to pass for satisfaction in Waldo's eyes. "Not bad." That was all the praise he wanted to hear as he picked up the plate and brought it back into the kitchen. He figured that a debt would be the result of him leaving the dirty plate in the sink, so he washed it, and then dried it before placing the clean ceramic plate back where he found it. He did the same thing with the silverware. The entire time, Celeste did not say a single word. Waldo risked levity when he confronted her once more, still wearing the apron. "I...figured you'd ask for something more along the lines of dinner. An omelette is a breakfast meal, after all." Celeste smirked. "It is breakfast, dear. Don't you know what time it is? It's 1 a.m." Waldo's look of surprise definitely amused Celeste. "I...I need to..." Celeste rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. Give me the apron," As he went to untie it, she spoke up again. "Fold it neatly." Nodding, Waldo did as he was told, and Celeste placed the folded apron back in the closet. He was a little surprised that she did not ask him to do that, but he had to go with Celeste's whims. He just hoped that he wouldn't be called on not doing that himself. He next followed Celeste to the posh residence's second floor, and he wondered what his sleeping arrangements would be as the woman stepped into her room, sternly commanding Waldo to wait outside the room before going in. A minute later, Celeste stepped back outside with what looked to be a sheer pink garment. He obviously hoped that this would be her own nightwear as she led Waldo to another room on this floor, opening a door leading into what was revealed to be a guest bedroom. Or rather, a guest bedroom designed for a female. The dresser, the curtains adorning the windows, the bedsheets, the comforter...all of them were in pink or otherwise feminine colors. Waldo also noticed a flatscreen TV on the otherwise bare wall in front of the bed. On a coffee table near this TV was a black remote control. "It's only because you've been complying with my requests without whining about it that you're staying in here to begin with," Celeste remarked. "So I hope you're not going to complain that I'm treating you unfairly, Waldo." Waldo feigned understanding as he shook his head. "I won't." "Good," She then tossed the sheer garment on the bed. "Have a good night." Without another word, she walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. Waldo sighed as he picked up the sheer bundle, and confirmed that it was indeed a pink nightie. It was certainly big enough to fit him, but...this would essentially be the crossdressing he feared he would be asked, indirectly or otherwise, to do. At this point, Waldo heard gentle music begin to play within the room. Certainly not loud enough to keep him awake, but definitely gentle enough for him to sleep with. His first instinct was to ignore the nightie. Or at least, put it on if he was able to get up before Celeste did, and fool her into thinking he was wearing it all night. Subtle voices whispered with the music as it played, and as Waldo pondered what he would do. Sleeping naked wasn't such a bad idea, seeing as how he did not wish to crossdress. The comforters looked warm enough, too. They would easily keep him warm. Embrace the sweetness of sheer. Smooth against the skin. So soothing. So soft. Waldo glanced again at the sheer nightie in his hands. The material felt...nice, and it had a fragrant scent. Perhaps it had been freshly washed? Embrace the sweetness of sheer. Smooth against the skin. So soothing. So soft. He was still holding on to the nightie as he slipped his naked body beneath the covers of the bed, and after hitting the nearby light switch, he rested on one side of his body in his attempt to lapse into a deep sleep. Embrace the sweetness of sheer. Smooth against the skin. So soothing. So soft. The bed was comfortable enough, and the coverings definitely kept him warm, but he still found it difficult to close his eyes after about an hour of being in a dark room. It could not have been the music. There was nothing jarring about the melody. Nothing to keep him awake. No loud beats. No vibrations. Embrace the sweetness of sheer. Smooth against the skin. So soothing. So soft. He brought the garment to his nose, giving the fragrant scent more of a whiff. But then, he pressed it against his face. The sheer nightie felt lovely against his skin. He began to pant softly as he slid the folded nightie down against his chest. He sat up in the bed, and unfolded the nightie. In the next minute, he slipped it on over his chest. Heaving out a very relaxed breath, he smiled with satisfaction. The sheer nightie was so smooth against his skin. It had a very soothing effect on his skin. It was so soft. As much as there was the rationale in that no one other than Celeste would see him in such a garment, he could hardly be accused of crossdressing. Further, it was only for one night. Smiling, Waldo settled his head upon the thickly-stuffed, pink-sheeted pillow, and let out a deep, relaxing breath, finding it easier to close his eyes as the melody shifted. A new set of subtle, and barely noticeable speaking voices now practically sang him to sleep. Sleep now, sleep long, sleep warm. Nothing but time. Nothing but sleep. Until you can sleep no more. Let go. Sleep. Let go. Dream sweet dreams. So sweet. So pretty. Sleep. Let go. Sweet. Pretty. You are so pretty. You are so sweet. You are so female. You are so pretty. You are so sweet. Sweet. Pretty. Female. Sleep. Sleep now, sleep long, sleep warm... * * * Tamara couldn't help but notice that whenever Larry wasn't tending to business or giving instructions during the morning hours at the office, he was dead silent. The former boy began to worry about the problems that seemed to weigh heavily on her employer's conscience. She knew there was little she could do to help him, knowing how powerful the ladies of Bullchester were in their home environment. Tamara felt sure that Larry faulted himself for the fact that one of his nephews was being influenced, and perhaps changed, by someone like Rita Noble or Celeste. Larry had briefly stepped out of his office to inform Tamara that she would need to call in a take-out order for lunch, unlike all those occasions where they went out to eat at the local restaurant. It wasn't the first time this was suggested, although Larry was typically pleasant on those previous occasions. Tamara simply nodded in acknowledgement, and then quietly continued her desk work. She wondered if it was wise to present the folder with the information Julia had given her, knowing that in his state, he could get very suspicious as to who and where Tamara had gotten the folder from. He could naturally suspect that the condemning information that would easily allow Larry to win the forthcoming trial was Cresswell-sent. She wondered if perhaps talking about the case would take his mind off the issues that were troubling him. She really didn't like seeing him behave in such a gloomy fashion. Not after his general demeanor had been so perpetually upbeat ever since he hired her. About fifteen minutes before their lunch hour, Tamara called in Larry's lunch order, and her own as well. They both arrived right at the top of the hour, and once Tamara confirmed which of the two bags contained her lunch order, the plus-sized secretary knocked twice on Larry's office door and then opened it up. Larry flashed a cordial smile, despite his initially weary expression, when he saw Tamara walk in. His desk was a bit of a mess. Full of papers and opened folders. Books taken from the nearby bookcases were also stacked next to his desk. It looked like he was having a rough time trying to get his material together. He reached over to take his bag of food. "Thanks, sport." Tamara nodded, smiling, and then turned towards the office door, beginning to walk towards it. "T'mara?" The former boy stopped. She was about an inch from the door. She turned her head towards her employer curiously. "Yes, Mr. Hanel?" It seemed like he wanted to say something specific, but he stopped himself. After a brief moment, he finally spoke. "I...I'm sorry we, uh...we can't go out for lunch like we always do when th' weath'r is this nice...but, well...as y' can see, gettin' ready for this case is provin' t' be...kinda tough." Tamara clearly saw an opportunity here. "Is...is there any way I can help? I mean...maybe I can look up stuff online for you, or..." For a moment, Larry actually seemed to be considering this. He then regarded Tamara dismissively. "I don' wanna get in th' way o' your private time, sport. Don't you worry 'bout my..." "No, please. Just give me a couple of days," Tamara interjected. "Let me make a couple of calls. My mom hired attorneys in the past over situations with dad. Maybe they can help. I'll keep it totally confidential, too. You can trust me to keep it all secret. I won't tell anyone." Larry's cordial expression became a little more serious as he kept his eyes on those of his young secretary. "Y' realize that's a p'tential violation o' client trust, sport. I mean...you're not ev'n a paralegal, an' that's jus' th' kinda person who's qualified t' help me with things like this." Tamara sighed, lowering her head. She then nodded in understanding. But then, she heard Larry write down things on a blank piece of paper attached to a large notepad. He then pulled it off the pad carefully and neatly folded it twice before holding it out to Tamara. "You should know, in fairness, that if y' don't keep this quiet...as in jus' b'tween you an' me...that's gon' be three strikes at once," Larry warned. "Don't make me have t' do that to ya, sport." "I understand," Tamara assured as she took the folded paper. "I promise. No one's gonna know about this. I will not let you down." Larry nodded, smiling, as his secretary went towards the door once again. Totally hesitant to come out and say what was now on his mind, he didn't stop Tamara from opening the door and disappearing behind it. Heaving a sigh of relief, Tamara approached her desk to pull her food out and begin eating. Fortunately, she was able to order a salad with her meal. Anticipating this, Tamara had purchased a small bottle of French salad dressing. Pouring it over the leafy mixture of vegetables, the plus-sized secretary sampled a bit of it. The taste was a vast improvement over the Balsamic Vinaigrette. Tamara was able to finish her salad much quicker, given how well the dressing went with her salad mixture. As she ate, she opened up the folded paper Larry had given her to look it over. There were names there, and there were questions about legal precedents relating to the case. She thought about going through Julia's folder for the sake of only extracting that which she needed as per the folded note, rather than hand the entire folder over to Larry. That would, after all, make Julia's material seem a little less suspicious. Tamara made a mental note to try and go through Julia's folder to find what she needed while she was in their newest hotel hideaway. Failing that, she could also do such a thing during the bus ride to work in the morning. Tamara's cell phone, however, began to vibrate as it played a tune. The voice on the other end turned out to be Maggie's. Her voice sounded a bit firm, and quite serious. "I'm picking you up when you get out of work today. You and I, we have business." Tamara nodded. "Another photographer, right?" "No," Maggie coldly replied. "No photos today. Just be ready for me to pick you up once you've finished up there at the office." Tamara felt compelled to ask, even though a part of her felt like she was going to regret it. "How come you were home so late last night?" Maggie's answer, quite surprisingly, was to disconnect, and end the call. Tamara figured that either Maggie had come back to the hotel briefly while the plus-sized secretary was asleep, or Maggie could not come back at all that one evening. Either way, she was concerned for how serious she sounded. She hoped she wasn't going to be given bad news when they reunited. As the latter half of the day was slow, Tamara felt compelled to begin going through Julia's files to find material related to what was on Larry's folded paper, but the trick was to do so without Larry noticing. Eyeballing the door to her employer's office, Tamara made a mental note of what was on the notepad page and quietly began going through Julia's files. As Tamara had been entrusted to put together files for Larry as per her work responsibilities, she was able to pull a fresh folder to transfer Julia's material to. The phone rang once during her work. Fortunately, it was a necessary transfer to Larry's phone, and it had nothing to do with Cresswell matters. Announcing the caller to Larry through the phone's speaker option, Larry let the call go through. Tamara figured this to be an advantage. With Larry distracted for what turned out to be a good long while, Tamara worked quickly to go between Julia's file and the new folder she had pulled. By the time she was done, about 25% of Julia's material was in the new folder. Slipping Julia's file and the new one in her handbag, Tamara settled herself back at her desk and let the remaining hour go by quietly. Larry seemed to be in better spirits when he came out to leave for the day. "We are finito, sport," He walked up to the desk, speaking in a more confidential tone. "Listen, I...I do appreciate your wantin' t' help, ev'n if you're not a paralegal. If y' really wanted t' become one, though, I might be able t' help you there. Jus' let me know, an' I'll see if I can't pull some strings. Sound good?" Tamara smiled. "I'll...think about it. Thanks, Larry." Larry chuckled. "Jus' what I thought you'd say. Now don't feel too ashamed if y' can't find anythin', but no matt'r what, I'm appreciative," Larry moved forward to kiss his secretary on her forehead. "Have a great night, sport!" Waiting outside after locking up the office, Tamara finally spotted Maggie's car. The raven-haired woman gestured for Tamara to enter, and she settled right into the passenger side seat next to Maggie, who sped the car away quickly. Maggie kept quiet during the ride. Tamara glanced curiously at her as the vehicle quickly moved through the city streets. She felt strongly compelled to make inquiries regarding whatever business Maggie was arranging outside of Tamara's notice, but the plus-sized secretary knew that such inquiries would be unwise. The car suddenly pulled into a curbside area, but Maggie kept the motor running. She then turned her head to Tamara. "Turn around. Turn away from me." "Can I ask wh..." "No," Maggie firmly interjected. "Just do as I tell you." Hesitantly complying, Maggie settled a cover of absolute darkness over Tamara's eyes. Feeling the black leather covering tighten around her head, she couldn't help but wonder why she was being blindfolded. Was she about to be surrendered to the Cresswell women? Perhaps against Maggie's will? Was she being blackmailed? What the hell was going on?? Her fear was entirely evident even as she stayed silent. The car came to life again, increasing Tamara's dread that something bad was about to happen to her. Even if her life was not in danger, or so she imagined, any chance of even accepting opportunities...such as being Larry's paralegal...would become impossible. If her fears about Maggie handing Tamara over to the Cresswell ladies were indeed true, then she had a life of oppression to look forward to. A life as a thing. A sex toy. A piece of meat whose only purpose was to further whatever world- domination plans people like Rita Noble or Celeste were contemplating. The car stopped, and a wave of terror took hold of the plus-sized secretary. The uncertainty was driving her crazy inside. She heard the passenger-side car door open, and she then felt Maggie's hand on her arm. "Come on out, Tamara. Slowly now," Maggie gently remarked. She trembled as Maggie guided her with gentle tugs to wherever she had taken her plus-sized passenger. Moving from the outdoors to the interiors of wherever Maggie had taken them, Tamara heard sexually-provocative music mingle with the sounds of loud smacks and the whimpers of both males and females. The scent of leather hung heavily in the air as Tamara was tugged in various directions. The sound of a door closing, and the sounds of the place's ambience muting, seemed to indicate that they were now in a room of some kind. The scent of leather remained evident as Maggie tugged Tamara over to a particular area. "Stay right there," Maggie instructed. "I'm going to strip you down. Work with me." Tamara had to risk the rebuke. "Where are we?" A moment of silence followed. When Maggie next spoke, it was in a soothing tone close to her right ear. "Don't you worry about a thing, sweetie. I owe this to you. I promise you're going to enjoy this, so just relax." As much as she wanted this much to relieve her, Tamara remained worried by these words as Maggie began removing Tamara's clothes, lifting her feet so the shoes could be slipped off, and lifting her arms so as to make it easier for Maggie to pull off the former boy's work outfit. Maggie even pulled off Tamara's underwear, leaving the plus-sized secretary completely naked. A part of her expected the worst. Maggie would next open the door to allow someone like Celeste or Rita to come in, and Tamara would never see Maggie again. "There's a bed behind you, dear. Sit on its side," was Maggie's next instruction. Once she settled her butt upon the plastic-covered cushion, Maggie stepped behind her. "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you to." Upon doing so, Tamara felt the mask's grip on her head loosen, and the mask came off. Maggie's hands then guided her to lay face down upon the plastic mattress, her head being positioned so that her face fit through what felt like a hole. "You can open your eyes now, sweetheart," Maggie softly remarked. "But don't move an inch. Stay right where you are." What was next, Tamara wondered? A whip lash? When she opened her eyes, she logically saw the floor beneath her, and nothing else. Her curiosity grew. What was about to happen next? She waited for the impending loud crack, followed by the horrible sting of a whiplash... ...but the crack never came when she finally felt something slowly rub against Tamara's bare flesh. She instead felt the soothing warmth of soft fur slowly running against her bare thigh. A similarly pleasant sensation rubbed along the length of her other thigh. Tamara now felt those pleasant feelings run along her back. Fur rubbing up and down, slowly, across her bare flesh. This was the furthest thing from pain. It felt like...a pair of hands, wrapped in large, furry mittens. Tamara felt these mittens caress against the back of her neck next, rubbing slowly as the plus-sized former boy began to pant pleasurably. Her eyes closed as she savored the wonderful sensations Maggie was providing. "Doesn't that feel wonderful?" She heard Maggie ask as the fur continued to rub against Tamara's bare body. "Yesss..." Tamara smiled, still panting in her satisfaction. "...ohhh, yesss...mmmhh..." "You deserve this, Tamara," Maggie remarked. "I realize I've been away from you for a while. I figured a simple apology wouldn't be enough to make up for it," The mitten now rubbed at Tamara's crotch, provoking a yearning moan. "Tonight, I want you to be happy." The mittens rubbed against the erogenous zones that were Tamara's inner thighs, making her pant louder as she quivered passionately. She was indeed loving this. After all the hardships and the worries, this was heavenly. "Now get up on your hands and knees, pet," Maggie purred. "Raise that big ass up for me." Upon complying with this request, Tamara was rewarded with the feel of Maggie's furry gloves rubbing at her large breasts, which had her panting heavily once again as the mittens continued to pleasurably grope at her firm mammaries. After a few minutes of this, however, Maggie's fur-covered hands moved slowly back towards her posterior, where they rubbed at her buttcheeks for a few minutes before she removed her hands from Tamara's skin. When the former boy felt Maggie's hands again, they no longer had the mittens covering them. What's more, they were pulling her buttcheeks to the sides, no doubt to allow Maggie access to her anal and vaginal holes. Tamara didn't look back. Her eyes were narrowed from the sexual satisfaction as she panted slowly, having been given a brief moment of relaxation. She wanted to be surprised, so Tamara never looked behind her. Her eyes remained rooted to the blank wall space in front of her as she waited for whatever she was going to be feeling next. What her posterior sensed was the feel of a face...Maggie's face...pushing against the space between Tamara's buttcheeks. She then felt something soft and moist begin to rub slowly around her anal hole. This had the effect of producing a surprisingly pleasurable spasm, which Tamara definitely reacted to. As Maggie continued to work around the anal hole with what Tamara surmised to be Maggie's tongue, the naked secretary began to react a little more vividly, moaning louder with the wild shot of pleasure she was now feeling. The former boy's upper body sank down as Maggie continued to lick. The pleasure she was feeling was unexpectedly intense as she moaned and panted heavily. Tamara was slack-jawed as her head rested on its side against the plastic cushion she was resting upon, practically drooling over the intense feelings she was clearly enjoying. Maggie, however, continued to lick. And lick. And lick. Slowly. Relentlessly. Pleasurably. Tamara quivered and shook as Maggie kept working her tongue. The intense pleasure was driving the former boy wild with lust. Instinctively, Tamara slipped the middle finger of her right hand into her mouth, sucking deeply upon it as Maggie continued her licking. The plus-sized secretary felt drops of sweat roll down the sides of her face as the licking and the intense pleasure continued. Just as Tamara was on the verge of fainting, the licking stopped. As she began to relax, she heard Maggie removing articles of clothing behind her. "Can you move?" Maggie asked, loud enough for Tamara to hear. Pulling her middle finger out of her mouth, she was relaxed enough to be able to respond through her panting. "Barely." Maggie giggled. "Then roll over, tubby. On your back." Tamara's movements were slow, but she was able to reposition herself as Maggie desired. Staring straight up through half-lidded eyes as she panted, Tamara felt Maggie's own bare body slip up against the young secretary's moist, sweaty body as she crawled up on top of her to bring her eyes in line with Tamara's. They smiled to one another as Maggie caressed the large woman's sweat- moistened hair tenderly. "I'd sooner die than betray you, Tamara. I hope you know that." Tamara stared up into Maggie's eyes and spoke softly. "I missed you." Closing the distance between their lips, they came together in a deep, passionate kiss. Tamara felt Maggie's hand on her right breast, groping the large, fleshy mound as they lingered in their kissing. Maggie couldn't help but feel relieved as they kissed. She had worried, in her time away from Tamara, that some of the more resourceful elements in Bullchester...people like Rita and Julia Stroud came to mind...would find a way to locate, and exert potentially dangerous influence over, the secretary that was once Timothy Portnoy. Fishing into a pocket when she pulled her lips away from Tamara's, she smiled as she prepared to apply the next step in cementing her influence over her plus-sized companion. "I got something for you," Maggie flirtatiously cooed, stepping behind Tamara, and then attaching the ends of a soft velvet choker around her neck. Tamara felt a small piece of cold steel against her body, below her chin. She brought her fingers up to it to feel its shape. The positioning of the piece made it difficult for Tamara to ascertain what the shape was. Tamara looked up, curiously, to Maggie. "What is it?" "Oh, just a little something for you to remember me by," Maggie replied. "See for yourself the next time you look in a mirror. For now, just keep wearing it." Tamara nodded, smiling. "I'll never take it off. I promise." Maggie smiled back. "You wanna get out of here? Go someplace a little more..." She rubbed at Tamara's pussy suggestively. "...private?" Tamara grinned lasciviously. "Oh, yeeeeaaaah." "Then get dressed and follow behind me," Maggie gently remarked, rubbing a breast as she spoke. "Be a good little slut." Tamara's eyes narrowed to slits upon hearing that. Be a good little slut. Although it was Maggie speaking the words... ...Tamara was hearing Rita's voice. As she dressed, Rita's voice subliminally guided her as the debutante's thorough conditioning reasserted itself a little more. That's right. You want to be a good little slut. Tamara unconsciously mouthed the words as she finished dressing. You NEED to be a good little slut. She brought up her right hand and began to lick upon her own middle finger... ...but she shook her head in the next moment, realizing what she was doing, and heaved a sigh of relief as she turned to Maggie. "Let's get out of here." Even as they returned to the car, Tamara could still hear the bewitching words in her head, and in Rita's seductive purr. You want to be such a good little slut.