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Message-ID: <28214asstr$978617405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Brighid Cerridwen <kali_mother@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Revenge, pt. 5 (MF, MM, Fdom, bd, fist, cbt, best, mutilation)
Date: Thu,  4 Jan 2001 09:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Revenge of a Modern Day Fury, Pt. 5 of 6
by Mother Kali

(Part 5)

Glennis knew better than to get involved with Carter
again. Of course, she did. But there was just
something about him. There always had been.

Maybe it was the way he always asked so sweetly to be
allowed into her bed. Or that he knew exactly how she
liked to be touched. Or that he would kiss her breasts
just so and find that place on her neck that drove her
completely crazy and whisper all the right things in
her ear. Maybe it was that he never tried to dominate
her in bed. He always let her ride him in her own
rhythm, kissing her hungrily as she moved over him,
his hand insinuating itself between their bodies,
stroking her hotly, making her tremble. 

Or maybe it was just that he'd put on such a good show
with James that she really did want to reward him.

In the end, it didn't really matter why. It didn't
even matter that she should have known better. She had
wanted him, and she was never one to deny herself.

She gripped his shoulders and began moving faster,
harder. He stared up at her, and the look in his
eyes-- well, she couldn't look away. And that was what
made Carter so dangerous. He was the only man she ever
made love with. All the rest was either just sex or
business. It was no wonder she could never stay with
him, no matter how well things seemed to be going.
This ridiculous entanglement with him turned her
into-- well, a big sap, to be honest. Her! A Fury. It
was intolerable. Really.

Except...

Well, it was also very, *very* good. There was no
pleasure quite like having him inside her, his hands
stroking and arousing her, knowing that he was the
only one who really saw her, who truly understood what
she was. 

"Glennis," he moaned needily.

She loved that she could make him sound like that. She
loved that he never called her by that ridiculous
nickname while they were making love, always by her
given name. She adored the way her name sounded when
he was breathy and wild with desire for her. 

She was close to coming again. He'd already brought
her to orgasm three times. She had been a little
worried at first about his recent augmentation and how
it might affect their sex life. Frankly, he was pretty
monstrous, and she hadn't know if it would be too
much, if it would be painful. Happily, though, it was
just enough to enhance their lovemaking, not detract
from it. In fact, she couldn't remember when she'd
been so satisfied.

She caressed his face, brushed his hair off his
forehead and kissed him. His clear grey eyes were
serious, passionate, without the least trace of his
usual irony. He was always different in bed, and for
some reason that always moved her. She was certain he
never stopped being sarcastic for anyone else.

He buried his face between her breasts and whispered
against her skin, "I love you."

He always said that when they made love, although he
never mentioned it any other time. Still, it was more
than *she* had ever been able to manage, with anyone.

He began doing a little trick with his fingers, his
special move. It sent sparks from her pussy all the
way up her spine, the way it always did.

"Oh, God!" she gasped.

"Come for me, baby," he said.

She threw her head back and did just that, waves of
hot pleasure rocking her body. She felt him surging
beneath her, his cock swelling inside her, and despite
the condom separating them, she knew that he, too, was
climaxing.

When she regained her senses, she carefully rolled off
him, and he disposed of the condom. He collapsed onto
the bed, breathing heavily. She curled up against his
back and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

"You know I don't actually expect you to pay for
James," she told him.

Carter rolled over to face her. "That's sweet,
Glennie," he said. "But keep the money. Really. Save
some missing and exploited children on me."

She smiled. "I'm sure that's at the top of the list of
things you care about."

"I care," he insisted.

"Uh-huh," she said and started laughing.

He pinched her nipple. "I do, so don't be a bitch."

"I believe you. Really." She laughed so hard she was
out of breath.

"I don't fuck kids, Glennis. I'm not one of those."

His tone was serious, and he was obviously offended.
Her amusement dissolved.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. Don't get mad. Please."

"I realize that I can be one mean son of a bitch when
I'm working on a project. But I *never* hurt innocent
people."

"I *know* that, Carter. God. When did my opinion start
mattering so much, anyway?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her
against him. "Your opinion has *always* mattered to
me."

She sighed heavily and let her head fall against his
shoulder. "No wonder we never make it. One night, and
we're already jumping to the wrong conclusions."

"Maybe the trick is to stay together for *more* than
one night. See if things improve with age."

She bit him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't be a
wise ass."

He laughed. "But you love me that way."

"You sound rather sure of yourself."

"Oh, I am. About this anyway."

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"And yet you continue to. Hence my cocky sense of
confidence." He grinned, that mischievous smile of his
that always meant she was losing the battle.

She sighed heavily. "I don't know what I'm supposed to
do with you."

"We could play twenty questions," he suggested.

"Oh, Carter, please."

"Seriously."

She rolled her eyes. "Why not a game of charades?"

"I get to go first."

"I never agreed to this."

"But you know you will. I'll wear you down eventually.
So why not just give in graciously? I know you don't
do it that often, but you're really quite sexy when
you do."

"God. You are just incorrigible. I never should have
slept with you."

"Too late. Now for my question. Why is this thing with
James so personal?"

She snorted with disdain. "That's not how you play
twenty questions."

"Sure, it is."

"No, it's *not*."

"So tell me anyway."

"What?"

"Why is it so personal with him?"

"Who?"

Carter sighed. "You *know* who."

"It's not personal. It's business. You should know
that better than anyone."

"Yes, I do know. I know *you*. So don't try to
bullshit me."

She crossed her arms over her chest, really beginning
to regret letting her needs overrule her better
judgment. 

"All right," she conceded. "So there's some history
there. So what?"

"So what, indeed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means you could tell me what he did to you."

"But then I'd have to kill you," she said teasingly,
trying to distract him, trying to get him to quit
asking questions she had no intention of answering.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"What?"

"Or that."

She sighed heavily. "It's not like you've ever
confided in me, either. You've never told me why you
get off on raping cops so much."

"Mmm. That's true. Because you don't care."

"How do you know that?"

He smiled at her patiently, the way he might treat a
child, and for a moment, she really thought she was
going to have to strangle him. 

"Because I know you, baby," he said. "History is not
your favorite subject. Unless, of course, it has to do
with some project you're working on."

"Maybe you don't know me quite as well as you think,"
she said.

He scooted his body into a sitting position, resting
his back against the headboard. "So are you saying you
*do* want to hear about it?"

"Do *you* want to tell me while we're fighting?"

He grinned. "We're *always* fighting, baby."

She rubbed her hands over her face, feeling tired, the
high from her orgasms completely gone now.

"I want you to tell me," she finally said. "As long as
you won't have to kill me afterwards."

He smiled. "I won't have to kill you," he said.

She looked him in the eye. She couldn't help feeling
she owed him that. "So what happened?" she asked.

He took a deep breath. "Well-- I guess the first thing
I should say is that Carter is not my real name."

"Oh?"

"I stopped using my real name a long time ago. Because
it also happens to be the name of one of the largest
organized crime families in the country."

"You're in the mob?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Actually, not. That's the irony of the story. My
father got killed when I was just a kid, a hit by a
rival group, so my grandfather decided to keep me out
of the family business altogether. I never had
anything to do with the things my grandfather was
involved in. And they *knew* that."

"Who?"

"The cops. I was seventeen, and they were really
desperate to get something on my grandfather. So they
pulled me over on some bullshit traffic violation and
hauled me downtown. Booked me, threw me into lockup.
To try to force information out of the old man."

"Assholes."

"Yeah." He laughed humorlessly. "Then some of them
thought it would be a real kick if they spread the
word, the *lie*,  that I got busted for molesting
kids. They arranged it so the paperwork on my case
went missing. My grandfather wasn't able to get me out
until the next day."

"Oh, God, Carter."

"They even watched, the bastards. They stood on the
other side of the bars and laughed and cheered while
every con in there took his turn. When they knew good
and well I hadn't done anything."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I took care of them later, the ones who
arranged it and the ones who watched."

"I should hope so."

"They're the only ones I didn't let go afterwards.
They're all in the Middle East now, serving as eunuchs
to some Sultan or the other."

"Did you cut them yourself?"

He nodded grimly. "That was satisfying. To first take
their balls and then their cherries."

"I really am so sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "You get over it. You get on with life."

"I guess."

"You're frowning," he noted.

"I--" 

But there wasn't anything to say. She hugged him,
hard.

"Hey," he said, stroking her hair. "Hey, it's all
right."

"No, it's not," she said, tightening her grip on him.

He laughed softly.

"What could possibly be funny?" she asked.

"No. Not funny. It's just-- I guess I was wrong. I
guess you do care after all."

"I hope you're not going to be a jerk about it," she
said against his cheek.

"I won't be. I promise."

"Good." She held him a moment longer, then let him go
and settled onto the bed beside him.

"I really am over it," he told her.

"Then why are still taking revenge on cops?"

He shook his head. "I don't know exactly. I guess I
just like giving bad cops what they've got coming. The
power of it. The righteousness. You know how that is."

She nodded. She knew very well.

"After I bust their asses, I always let them go," he
said. "Not because I'm merciful. But so I can watch
what happens next. Watch them try to pretend like
nothing's wrong because they're too ashamed to admit
they let down their guard and got butt fucked against
their will. They always try to get on with life like
everything's normal, only they can't, because they're
not really men any more, not the way they see things.
It doesn't take long for them to self-destruct. And I
enjoy that. I really enjoy watching them lose
everything, including their last shred of
self-respect. It's like a calling I have or
something."

"I know exactly what you mean."

He smiled. "I know you do. That's why we fit together
so well. I have the feeling we're a lot alike."

She froze, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. He
was very clever. She couldn't be certain he hadn't
made his little confession on purpose, to trick her
into admitting something she had no intention of
admitting, to him or anyone else, now or ever.

"Yes, well. We do have similar interests and tastes,"
she said, in her most impersonal tone. 

She crawled over him and got up from the bed. She
reached for her robe, slid into it and pulled the belt
tightly around her waist.

"What just happened here?" Carter asked, sounding both
confused and disappointed.

"Nothing. I've just got a busy day ahead of me
tomorrow."

"So that's it, huh? That's all you can handle. Ten
minutes of intimacy."

"Don't, Carter. I'm not in the mood."

"I'll never know how you do it, how you can just turn
off like that."

"Maybe you should go."

"Because you need to rest up for tomorrow. We wouldn't
want you to be tired for all those big plans you have
for James."

She tightened her jaw. She hated hearing the sarcasm
back in his voice.

"It's my job," she said. "It's important to me. You
know that."

"So what *is* the next step?"

She sighed. "I don't see the point--"

"I'm curious," he said. "Humor me."

"I convince him he wanted and even enjoyed everything
that just happened to him. And then we get him started
turning tricks."

"Well, that does sound like fun."

"It's just business as usual," she said, defensively.

They both went silent. It was tense and awkward.

Finally, Carter said in a soft, conciliatory voice, "I
didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't."

He shook his head. "I wonder when you're going to
learn you can't lie to me."

"And I wonder when you're going to learn that you
don't know me better than I know myself."

He looked at her for a moment, an expression on his
face she didn't know how to interpret. "Well, I
suppose I'll get dressed and see myself out." He
gathered up his clothes and headed for the bathroom. 

At the door, he turned back to her. "Thanks for the
wonderful evening," he said.

"Shouldn't you really be thanking James?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. He was just a means to an end.
And I think you know that."

He closed the door, and a moment later, she heard the
water running in the sink. She felt more sad than she
could remember, and she didn't even have the luxury of
blaming it on Carter. After all, she really should
have known better.

***

The next morning, Glennis pulled herself together and
resolved never, ever to think about Carter again. He'd
gone off-- wherever he went when he wasn't with her,
and she really had more pressing matters to focus on.
James was at the crucial juncture of his training. The
next few days would make all the difference. She had
to be on top of her game.

 From Glennis' observations, newly deflowered subjects
tended to follow one of three predictable paths. There
were the "ragers," as she called them--those who went
into hyper-macho mode to try to compensate for their
humiliating violations. These subjects threw things,
cursed, made threats, tried to attack their trainers.
Then there were the "avoiders." They refused to accept
the reality of the situation and denied to themselves
and everyone else that they'd been on the receiving
end of a cock, despite the video evidence. Finally,
there were the "bawlers," the ones who just curled up
and sobbed broken-heartedly. 

It surprised her that James fell into this last
category, but then perhaps she had given him too much
credit in the past.

She and Bradshaw left him to his weeping in one of the
holding areas they used for such cases. He was unbound
and untreated with the drug. He had entered the stage
in his training when forced erections were no longer
necessary or even advantageous. And sex was the last
thing on James' mind after what he'd been through. He
stayed huddled in the corner of the room for days,
curled tightly into a ball while he cried.

Perhaps his extreme distress had something to do with
the fact that the video of his humiliating public
defloration played over and again on the monitor in
his cell, the volume cranked way up every time it
reached the part where James begged to have his ass
fucked. It was a small touch, but an effective one,
Glennis had found.

After James had healed physically and had grown a
little calmer emotionally, she went to visit him.

He had stopped crying, but he still lay in the corner,
facing the wall, listless and depressed. She went over
to him and knelt down. He didn't turn around.  She
gently touched his shoulder.

He jerked away. "Don't you *dare* touch me!"

"I'm sorry, James."

He shook his head. "No, you're not. You enjoyed seeing
me-- " He broke off, a tremor in his voice.

"I *am* sorry that you're so unhappy," she told him.

"Why? You arranged it. You *sold* me. You smiled the
whole time he was raping me."

"Rape. Hmm. Is that what you think it was?"

He flipped over to face her, his eyes glittering
angrily. "What the hell kind of question is that? *Of
course* it was rape."

She shrugged. "I just remember how you begged to be
fucked. Not because you were threatened or forced to.
But of your own volition. How many rape victims do you
know who do that?"

He flushed deeply. "It wasn't like that. You *know*
that."

"Wasn't it? 

"You tied me up."

"Hmm."

"I couldn't get away."

"That's true."

"I *didn't* want it."

"Maybe not. But let me pose a hypothetical for a
moment. Think back to when you were on the police
force. Imagine that some man came to you claiming to
have been raped. Suppose as you began investigating
the accusation you found that this person had
willingly traded blow jobs to obtain special favors.
That he put on a live sex show for an audience, that
he fingered himself in front of who knows how many
people, showing them all just how much he got off on
anal stimulation."

James looked as if he'd just been slapped in the face.

Glennis continued. "Suppose you discovered that during
the alleged rape this man agreed to be tied up and
gagged. That he allowed himself to be prepared for
penetration. That he stayed hard the whole time he was
being fucked. And despite all his protests about being
forced, managed to come three times during the course
of the so-called assault. That he even demanded more,
begged his alleged rapist to keep fucking him. That he
wanted it harder and deeper and faster. Hmm, James?
Would you have taken such a charge seriously? Or would
you have thrown that person right out of the police
station?"

James avoided her eyes. "It doesn't mean anything," he
insisted.

"You don't think so? You don't think it matters that
you came on another man's cock?"

"*No*!"

"Would you ever have imagined that was possible before
the other night?"

"No," he reluctantly admitted.

"Then you've learned something about yourself. I think
that matters. Don't you?"

"It doesn't mean I'm a faggot."

"No," she agreed. "But it does mean that you can find
pleasure in the use of your body by another man. And
that's good. Because there are going to be a lot of
men who are going to use your body."

He shook his head, tears coming to his eyes. "No.
Please."

"Remember when you said I was never going to let you
go? Well, you were right, James. You need to forget
all about that other life, that other person you used
to be. That's all gone forever now."

"No!"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I bet you imagine people you
used to know finding out what you've been doing. You
picture their reactions and feel humiliated. But
there's no need to torture yourself like that. You're
here. They're there. And here, everyone *expects* you
to act like a whore, to suck cocks and get fucked.
Nothing could be more fitting as far as we're
concerned. So you don't have to feel that we're
judging you in any way. You don't have to feel ashamed
of fulfilling your natural function."

"I don't want to get fucked ever again. I'm not a fag.
I'm not."

Tears streaked down his cheeks. She wiped them away
with her thumb. This time, he didn't pull away from
her touch.

"Ah, James. You'll soon discover the same thing all
women do when they lose their virginity. Once it's
gone, it's gone. The barn door's open. The chickens
have flown the coop. There's no point in trying to
protect your virtue now. There's nothing left to save.
After you've had intercourse once, there's really no
reason not to have it again. And it does get easier
and more pleasurable the more experience you have."

"You keep saying that. But I am *never* going to enjoy
it."

"But you already did."

He shook his head frantically. "No!"

She sighed. "Oh, all right. Have it your way, James.
Enjoy it or not. I really don't care. The simple fact
is that you *are* a whore now. You *will* turn tricks.
You *will* suck your customers' dicks. You *will* get
fucked. Now, you can choose to do it the hard way. You
can get your teeth knocked out while you're trying to
resist some horny john who has his heart set on
getting his cock down your throat. You can get your
ass torn open the way you did the other night by
clenching your muscles. Hell, some clients will even
pay extra for an unwilling slut. The end result for
you will be the same, either way. You will suck. You
will get fucked. Period."

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked pathetically.

She stroked his hair and looked deeply into his eyes.
"I told you already. To teach you a lesson."

His lip trembled, and more tears fell as he mourned
the irretrievable loss of his manhood.

"Oh, my poor, poor James. I know it's hard. I know it
must seem so cruel. But you've been brainwashed as a
man. You think of everything in terms of being on top
or being on the bottom. You think letting a man take
you is degrading. But you completely miss the power
and the pleasure of it. Do you know how masterful
you'll feel knowing you can make a man hard? Do you
have any idea what kind of joy there is in surrender?"

The look on James' face told her that he didn't
believe any such thing was possible.

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "I know it's not the kind
of sexual pleasure you're used to. But you will come
to appreciate the feeling you get from spreading your
legs for a man, the exquisite vulnerability of opening
yourself up to someone else, of giving a man access to
your most tender, private places. You'll find an odd
kind of strength in lying back and letting him climb
on top of you and enter you. You'll take pleasure in
his pleasure as he moves inside you. You'll feel proud
of the way you make him moan, of the way you make him
come."

James continued to cry.

"Ah, well," she said. "You'll see for yourself soon
enough. Now, James, you have a decision to make.
Whether you want to be cooperative or do things the
hard way. So which is it going to be?"

"I don't want this," he protested, his voice shaking.

She caressed his cheek, wiping away more tears. "I
know. But I already explained to you that it's
inevitable. The only choice now is whether it's going
to be hard or easy. Whether you're going to disappoint
or please me. And I think you know by now how much
better it is to stay in my good graces. If you
willingly entertain clients, you'll have the same deal
as before. After so many tricks, you'll be allowed
your own pleasure. Put up a big fuss, and you forfeit
that privilege."

She could see the terrible indecision in his eyes. If
he agreed, how could he hold on to even the least
little shred of self-respect? But if he didn't, what
terrible things would happen to him?

"Tell me you're going to cooperate, James. Please,"
she coaxed. "I don't want to see you hurt. And I do
want you to have pleasure. I promise to make it very,
*very* good for you."

He struggled to reach a decision.

"All right," he finally said, so softly she could
barely hear him. "Easy. I want to do it the easy way."

She beamed at him. "I knew you wouldn't let me down.
I'm so happy! Now, there are just a few preparations
we have to make before you get to work."

She took his arm and helped him to his feet.

"Preparations?" he said, with alarm.

"Don't panic. It's nothing terrible. I promise."

She led him to the door. Bradshaw was waiting outside.

"May I assist you, madam?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you. Could you help me escort James to the
salon? He's made his decision, and he's ready to begin
work."

"That's wonderful news," Bradshaw told James.
"Congratulations."

James colored with embarrassment, but he didn't talk
back. Glennis counted this as progress. She and
Bradshaw walked with him to the salon at the end of
the next corridor and led him inside.

It was probably the most pleasant environment James
had seen since he had come to the compound. The room
was bright with sunshine, and the walls were painted a
cheerful yellow. There were green plants hanging in
baskets from the ceiling. It looked like an upscale
hairdresser's shop. 

"Go lie down there," she told him, pointing to a table
near the back of the room.

He did as he was told. Glennis smiled to herself. She
was going to enjoy the new "cooperative" James.

"Now, the first step is to remove all your body hair,"
she told him.

"What?!"

"It's necessary, I'm afraid. Customers like smooth
skin, whether the whore is male or female. Dawn will
be doing the waxing," she said, pointing to her
assistant who was testing the temperature of the wax.
"The good news is that we've developed a special
formula that inhibits the production of new cells in
the hair follicle. So you'll only have to get waxed
this once. Trust me. Women all over the world would
kill for this."

James was clearly not comforted by this information.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to leave you in Dawn's
capable hands." 

Dawn stepped forward, pushing a tray with the hot wax
and removal strips on it over to the table.

"Just try to relax," she told James. "I'm going to
start with one of the less sensitive areas."

She instructed him to hold out his arm, and she spread
the wax in a stripe from his shoulder down to his
elbow. She put the cloth strip over it and pulled it
away quickly, without warning.

"Fuck!" James screamed. "What the hell are you doing
to me?"

"The same thing women everywhere do to please men,"
Dawn answered, without sympathy.

She spread more wax from his elbow down to the back of
his hand. 

"Aaagh!" James yelled again when she pulled the strip
away.

He continued to yell throughout the entire waxing, as
Dawn denuded his arms and legs, underarms, chest,
belly, even his face. When she was ready to do the
sensitive areas, she looked to Bradshaw for help. He
pulled out the stirrups that were hidden in a
compartment along the bottom of the table. Before
James could resist, he had fastened his ankles into
the cuffs and spread his legs apart, exposing his
genitals and anus.

"No!" James bellowed, his face turning bright red.
"Don't you fucking touch me down there!"

Bradshaw held his upper body down while Dawn quickly
slathered his pubic hair with wax and removed it.

"Aaaagh!" James screamed. "No!"

Glennis rolled her eyes as she watched the spectacle.
She wondered what James thought she meant when she'd
told him he was going to have *all* his body hair
removed.

He protested even more vocally as Dawn prepared his
balls with the wax. 

He thrashed his head back and forth and moaned, "I
don't want to be bald down there. Please!"

Dawn ignored him and ripped the hair from his scrotum.
James whimpered. Glennis couldn't help smiling. Dawn
was nearly finished now. She spread the wax along his
crack and around his hole. When she pulled the strip
away, James was completely smooth. He would never have
hair on his body again.

Bradshaw released his legs from the stirrups.

Dawn ran a hand appraisingly over his skin. "Like
velvet," she told him. "You should thank me. I really
did a good job on you."

James stared at her as if she were crazy.

Dawn shrugged. "Whatever."

She collected the used strips and wheeled her tray
away.

Glennis went to James' side. "Now, that wasn't so bad,
was it?" she asked him.

"I'm-- It's disgusting," he said, indignantly.

"Did you ever want to be with a hairy whore, James?"

"And it *hurt*," he insisted.

"Oh, please. Don't even *try* to complain to me about
it."

"What else are you going to do to me?" he wanted to
know.

"Just give you a little adornment."

"What does that mean?"

"Piercing," she said.

"No way!" he said.

"Way. Now, you said you were going to cooperate. Has
that changed? Do you want to start doing things the
hard way?"

He swallowed hard. "No. I want it easy. Please."

"Good then. All you have to do is behave yourself, and
everything will be fine. Bradshaw is an expert at
piercing. He'll take good care of you."

"My pleasure, madam," Bradshaw said.

Bradshaw took out what looked like a pricing gun from
a department store.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's for piercing your ears. It's easier and less
painful than a needle. Hold still," Bradshaw told him.

He lined up the tip of the instrument where he wanted
the earring and pressed the button. The machine made a
sharp clicking sound. James screamed.

"Ow!" he complained. "That hurts!"

"James, don't be such a baby," Glennis told him.
"Little girls line up in shopping malls to pay good
money to have this done. And they don't whine and
complain about how painful it is, either."

Bradshaw put a second stud in the same ear. James was
too ashamed to yell out again, but he did wince.
Bradshaw moved to the other ear and gave him three
piercings there.

"These are starter studs," Bradshaw explained to him.
"In a few weeks when the holes have healed, you'll be
able to change your earrings."

"We have some nice gold hoops picked out for you,"
Glennis said.

"It'll be very attractive," Bradshaw said.

James made a face.

"Now for the other place," Bradshaw said.

"What other place?" James asked, with alarm.

Bradshaw pressed an ice cube against his nipple.

"You'll need to hold very still for this," he told
James.

"No. God. No."

"Don't fidget, James," Glennis warned him.

"Please. Not my nipples."

"You should be grateful it's not your scrotum,"
Glennis said. "That's quite popular in some circles."

"Don't move," Bradshaw told him.

He pierced James' left nipple with a sterilized needle
and quickly inserted a gold hoop. James gasped in
pain.

"They'll match your earrings," Glennis pointed out,
trying to cheer him up.

"Now, stay still while I do the other one," Bradshaw
told him.

James whimpered while Bradshaw completed his work.

"There," Glennis said. "Doesn't that look nice."

"Very becoming," Bradshaw agreed.

James looked down at his red and swollen nipples with
the gold hoops threaded through them. A stray tear
slid down his cheek.

"Now, now," Glennis said. "Don't be so unhappy. You'll
get used to it. I promise. And the piercing will make
your nipples more responsive. You'll enjoy that.
You'll see."

"Tell me that's all," James said, pitifully.

"Well--" she said.

"What now?"

"Just one more thing. You can get up for this."

James slid off the table. He looked relieved to be
allowed to stand. Bradshaw opened one of the drawers
in the cabinet and removed the item they would need.

"What's that?" James asked, suspiciously eying the
leather straps.

"It's a chastity belt," she said.

"What the hell?"

"You don't think your customers will be interested in
your erection, do you? Hardly. They never care about
the whore's pleasure. Some of them may even like to
pretend you're a woman. We can't have you getting hard
and ruining the illusion. And since we know you are
likely to get an erection while you're being fucked,
we can't take any chances."

"Hey! I did *not* get hard from being-- you know. It
was that damned drug you gave me."

"And that's the good news. From now on, no more drug."

It took James a moment to process that. "Really?" he
said, disbelievingly.

"Really," she assured him.

Of course, she didn't bother to mention that his
prostate had already absorbed enough of the drug that
it was permanently sensitized. He would start to get
hard any time he was fucked. And the chastity belt
would make that quite painful.

"Now, I want you to hold still while Bradshaw puts it
on you," she told him.

It was really quite a simple concept. The belt forced
the penis down and kept it there. The control was so
absolute that James almost appeared to have no penis
at all. An erection was absolutely impossible while
wearing it. The belt did leave the scrotum accessible,
since many clients enjoyed abusing a whore's balls.
Leather straps kept the belt anchored firmly in place
and accentuated James' ass cheeks. There was a small,
strong padlock securing it, so it could not be removed
without a key. 

"Shit!" James said, as Bradshaw finished fastening the
belt in place.

"Now there are a few things you'll need to know. The
belt is designed to be worn continuously. It will only
come off when one of your trainers is washing you or
when you're allowed to come. You can use the bathroom
as usual while wearing it, but you will have to
urinate sitting down."

James groaned. For many men, Glennis realized, this
was the final indignity. Of course, she knew, even if
James didn't, that it was only one of many indignities
awaiting him.

"Finally--and this is going to be hard to accept, I
know--you will no longer be allowed to have your cock
touched."

"But you said--" James started to protest.

She waved her hand. "I said you'd be allowed to come.
And you will be. But from anal stimulation only."

James colored. "You mean--"

"When you've earned your reward, you'll be allowed to
fuck yourself with a dildo until you reach orgasm."

"That's-- How can you--"

"I know it's difficult to accept. A paradigm shift
always is. But you have to start thinking about your
body differently. This is your sex now." She rested
her hand on his ass. "The source of your pleasure.
Your cock is nothing more than a biological necessity
now. After a while, you won't even think about it any
more. It will have no more special meaning to you than
your elbow or your knee."

He shook his head. "That's never going to happen. I'm
not going to let you turn me into some-- some
*pussy*!"

"Don't say that so disrespectfully, James. As a woman,
I just might take offense. Now, there's only one more
accessory you'll need. Bradshaw, do you have the boots
ready?"

"Yes, madam. Here they are."

He held them out to her. 

"Go sit down and put these on, James," she told him.

"You've got to be kidding."

"They complete the look," she said.

James sighed, but he did as she asked. After allowing
his nipples to be pierced and his cock to be caged, it
would have been silly to risk her disapproval over
something as small as a pair of shoes.

He pulled them on and zipped them up. They had been
specially made based on her instructions and a quick
sketch she'd drawn. The boots were sleek, shiny black
leather, with a blocky, two-inch heel. They hugged
James' legs and came all the way up to mid- thigh. She
had gotten the idea from watching "Pretty Woman." It
was the kind of footwear that practically screamed
"prostitute."

"Don't be shy, James. Model them for us," she said.

James blushed again, but he didn't argue with her. He
got to his feet and lurched forward unsteadily, the
heels giving him trouble. 

"Take your time," she told him. "You just need some
practice."

It was always a question, how to outfit a whore. She
had considered leaving him naked except for the
chastity belt. She knew other people would have
dressed him up in women's lingerie. But she didn't
want to spoil his masculinity. That was the thrill for
her, seeing him degraded in all his maleness. The
boots were the perfect touch, because they made him
seem even more exposed and vulnerable than if he were
wearing nothing at all. At the same time, though, he
still looked like a man.

A man who was a shameless slut.

She smiled. "Very nice."

***

The following day, James began his life as a whore.
Bradshaw, always inventive, had him work from a swing,
so his lack of experience and enthusiasm would be less
obvious. It also added to his sense of being out of
control of his body, something every whore had to get
used to.  Bradshaw drummed up James' first customers
from among ex-cons he'd arrested--pornographers, drug
dealers, pimps--all kinds of lowlife criminals. As
Bradshaw said, it would almost be like old times for
James.

The swing could be positioned in various ways to give
customers easy access to James' mouth and ass.
Sometimes, he was on his stomach, his butt in the air,
his legs trapped in the straps, his shoulders held in
place, making it impossible for him to move from the
humiliating pose or to turn around to see who was
using him. Other times, he was on his back, his legs
hoisted and spread wide, leaving him splayed and
vulnerable, at the mercy of his customers, with no
choice but to watch as men he'd sent to prison
vigorously violated him.

The clients got to pick which position they preferred.
Needless to say, the ex-cons enjoyed themselves a
great deal more than James did.

Glennis watched from the observation room. James was
currently on his stomach. He had already entertained
five customers and was in the middle of servicing his
sixth, the last of the day. The john was a penny-ante
criminal, involved in every sort of low-level hustle
imaginable, including trafficking in pornography. That
was how he had run up against James and ended up in
prison. He had served eight months in the maximum
security penitentiary, where things apparently had not
gone too easily for him. He had only been free a few
days when Bradshaw tracked him down. As Glennis
watched him using James, it was clear to her that he
relished the chance to do to his arresting officer the
same things that had been done to him in prison.

"Oh, God," he moaned, as he ravaged James' ass, using
the straps of the swing for leverage. "I'm fucking
this cop's butt. I can't believe I'm fucking a
goddamned cop up the butt."

Glennis couldn't help smiling. They all said the same
thing. Apparently, this was every criminal's wet dream
come true, to have a cop at their mercy. And from the
look on James' face, it was every cop's worst
nightmare.

"God, you're tight," the con told James. "You feel so
good. So hot. So fucking tight."

James was red in the face, and his lip trembled. But
he wouldn't let himself cry. Glennis had noticed that
this was a point of honor with him. No matter how much
he sobbed afterwards, he never broke down in front of
his johns.

The con's moans grew louder. He started to thrust
faster and harder.

"AAAGH!" he screamed as he came.

And James' face crumpled, the way it always did when
he felt a man's semen spurting inside him. 

"God," the con said, as he collapsed onto James' back.
"That was great."

When he got his breath back, he straightened up and
pulled out.

"You are one fine fuck," he told James.

James knew better than to talk back to a customer. He
stayed silent and kept his eyes lowered.

The con pulled his pants on. "I never knew cops had
such tight asses. Or I would have butt fucked one of
you boys a long time ago. Ah, well. Doesn't matter.
 From now on, I can always come and see you whenever I
get an itch for cop pussy, right?"

He laughed.

"See you 'round," he said and headed for the door.

Glennis went out to the hallway to meet him.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she said.

"Yes ma'am, thank you. I sure did. I was just telling
the detective what a tight pussy he has. Real nice."

"Yes, James is definitely something special. He was a
virgin until very recently, you know."

"Shit, he still feels cherry."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed him. Do come back. And I hope
you'll tell your friends. You can always get in touch
with us through the same contact."

"Hell, I'm going to come back as soon as I can. And
I'll bring a whole bunch of guys with me who'd love
nothing more than to nail Detective Henderson's ass."

"Oh, a gang bang. That will be nice. James has never
had more than one client at a time. Having guys lined
up to take their turn with him will certainly expand
his horizons."

The man laughed. "Won't it, now?"

She smiled. "Well, thank you for your visit. Bradshaw
will see you out. Of course, we'll need you to observe
the same security measures that you did on the way
in."

"No problem. I don't mind wearing a blindfold for
something this good."

Bradshaw motioned to the man. "Just follow me this
way, sir."

"Sir, huh?" The con smiled brightly. "I like this
place. A lot."

Bradshaw escorted him to the exit. Glennis went in to
check on James. After his first day of turning tricks,
she felt he deserved a little consolation. He'd be
hungry for a woman's touch after being used so
callously by men for hours on end. It was the perfect
opportunity to show him the erotic, pleasurable side
of getting penetrated.

She found him sobbing, still suspended in the swing,
the evidence of the day's activities dripping from
between his thighs. 

"How are you, James?" she asked him.

His shoulders shook. He didn't answer.

"I know. I know." She caressed his back. "It's a
terrible life."

She stroked his hair soothingly.

"Now you know how all those working girls you hassled
felt after they'd spent a night servicing johns--men
who didn't see them as human, just as a warm, tight
hole to fuck." 

He sobbed harder. 

"Now you know *exactly* what that's like." She put a
hand on his butt cheek and lightly stroked him.

He flinched. She dipped her fingers in the come
drooling from his ass and wrote the word "whore"
across his back.

"How does it feel, James? Still think those women you
exploited got what they deserved? That they wanted
it?"

"I never realized," he said, brokenly.

She nodded. "I know." She stroked his side. "That's
why I had to show you."

She bent down and whispered in his ear.

"Have you remembered who I am yet?" she asked.

He shook his head. "But I'm sorry. I swear to God. For
whatever I did."

"Oh, you did to me what you did to all the girls,
James. Only I wasn't quite what you took me for. Not
that you particularly cared. That's what I remember
the most about you. Your arrogance. You didn't give
fucking me a second thought. You just took, like you
owned me. So I really needed you to know how that
feels, what it's like to be treated like a whore. You
know now, don't you, baby?"

He nodded, the tears streaming down his face.

"My poor, poor James. Those men really put you through
it today, didn't they?" 

His back hitched with sobs. 

"Men can be such pigs. They'll just fuck you and fuck
you and fuck you, without caring whether you get any
pleasure or not. I know. I know." 

She wiped away James' tears and kissed him. He closed
his eyes, savoring the small gesture of tenderness. 

"I could give you pleasure, James," she said, against
his mouth. "You've been such a good boy. I'd like to
reward you. Would you like that? Hmm?"

"Mmm," he responded.

"Would you like it if I made love to you? Hmm, baby?
If I took you to my bed and kissed you and fucked you
until you came so hard you saw a whole cosmos full of
stars in your head. You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

She moved her hands over him, down his back, cupping
his butt, stroking his thighs, reaching beneath him to
fondle his balls. They were drawn up tightly against
his body. 

She tapped the front of his chastity belt, causing his
dick to leap. He groaned in pain. "Would you like me
to take this off?" she asked him. "Let that big,
gorgeous cock of yours free? Hmm, baby? Can I play
with you? Can I fuck you?"

He wouldn't look at her. He just nodded. But that
wasn't nearly good enough for her. She took his face
in her hands and made him meet her eye.

"You have to ask me, baby. Ask me nice."

"Please," he said, tears trembling in those blue, blue
eyes of his. 

She smiled and kissed him. He opened his mouth to her,
but waited, sweetly, obediently, until she deepened
the kissed. She rewarded him and stroked his tongue
with hers. He moaned in the back of his throat. She
pulled back. 

"Tell me what you want."

"I--" He looked at her helplessly, as if he didn't
know how to form the words.  

She moved her hands down from his shoulder, circled
teasingly around his collar bone, inched down until
she came to his nipples, still puffy from the
piercing. She circled the swollen nipples lazily, and
they hardened. 

"All you have to do is tell me."

He whimpered. She gently tugged on the gold rings.

"Agh!"

"Tell me!" she demanded.

"Fuck me." His mouth trembled. "Please. I want you to
fuck me."

She kissed him again, letting him into her mouth this
time. "I want that, too."

She stepped away and motioned for Bradshaw.

"Get him down and clean him up," she said.

"Yes, madam."

Glennis smiled. This was the kind of satisfaction a
Fury lived for.

(End Part 5)

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