Bound By Blackmail Ch. 05

Hello readers, this is the fifth part of the series. Please read any prior parts if you haven't already. Just a reminder, this series contains aspects of Blackmail, Forced Feminization, BDSM, and Sissy Slavery. If this isn't something you're into, I urge you to find another series to read. Again, I appreciate those who choose to read and would love to hear your thoughts and feedback as to what you think of the story thus far and how you think it is heading. So please feel free to vote and comment. Again, thanks and I hope you enjoy!

"Hey there, little girl. You doing okay in there?"

Those were the words the man said as he entered the room. Even if the gravely tone hadn't given him away as the fucking bastard who was doing all this to me, the pungent odor of cigarette smoke that wafted in with him would have. I stared through the bars of my cage to catch my first glimpses of this madman. Though I'll admit that I didn't quite know who he was at first, there was a ping of recognition in my gut. I'd definitely seen him before.

He was an older looking guy, but not necessarily old; probably somewhere a little past middle-age. I imagined, considering how much he reeked, that his smoking contributed a great deal to his aged and graying skin-tone. His hair was greasy and fairly long, reaching just past his ears. There were a good many gray hairs mixed among the brown that I assumed used to be his natural coloring. The man wore a one-piece, navy blue pair of coveralls; like something you'd see a mechanic wear. Only his wasn't soiled in oil stains or torn from mechanical repairs. I'd seen that uniform before and when I caught sight of the name across the left chest pocket, I recognized who I was dealing with. I was shocked, to say the least, to discover who was putting me through this hell.

It was the janitor! Actually, he was the head custodian at the building where I worked. Brady was his name; evident from his name patch sewn into the coveralls. I wasn't quite sure whether that was his first name or last and had never really talked to the man long enough to find out. At most, I may have spoken to him very briefly in passing and perhaps a few times where I'd nodded in his direction, but that was about it. I couldn't believe it. Was this really the guy doing this to me?

There was a chair with the computer desk that the man pulled over and placed in front of the cage. In his hand was a folder that he set on the floor next to him. He then took a seat and leaned forward towards me. From his chest pockets, he produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"You don't mind if I have a smoke, do you?" He asked as he took one from the pack. I actually did mind! I hated the stench of cigarettes and didn't want my house reeking of them. As I drew in a breath to object, I was quickly cut off.

"That, of course, was a rhetorical question and doesn't require an answer," he told me as he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Smoke began to billow from the now orange tip. Immediately, the room began to get that odor that repulsed me.

"You're definitely not in a position to tell me what I can and can't do. Just so you know, while you're my property, anything that you may own I now own and can do with as I please." He gestured around him and said, "So technically speaking, I'm smoking in my own house and don't need permission to do so."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. This wasn't his house! I wanted to tell him just that. Yet, as he had said, I was sadly in no position to argue. What was I supposed to do locked in my tiny cage? To my astonishment, he flicked the ash from his cigarette which cascaded down and fell on the carpet. I looked upon it with clear shock on my face. Brady noticed my reaction and took offense.

"Does that bother you? Well, I don't see an ashtray around here. Unless..," he started as he wheeled his chair closer. His head hovered over the cage as his graying, greasy, semi-long hair hung down. His eyes stopped on me and then he continued with, "You can be my ashtray."

I didn't know what he actually meant by that and I was not kept in suspense either.

"Come on up, ashtray! Head up, tilt back, open that cock-sucker of yours and stick out your tongue." His commands left me prettified. I didn't move at first. Then he kicked the side of the cage which caused it to resonate from the force. "You don't want me to have to say it a second time!"

Beginning to tremble, I did as he commanded and opened my mouth, tilting it up and putting it towards the top of the cage. Brady took a big hit off the cigarette, releasing the plume of smoke into the small room. He then took the cigarette, hovered it over my opened jaw, and then gave it a few taps with his index finger. There was a bit of ash that fell from the burning tip and landed inside my mouth. The taste was foul, but thankfully it wasn't hot.

"Taste good?" He asked. I shook my head. "Then I suggest you wipe that disgusted look off your fucking face!"

I lowered my head, cowering so as not to make eye contact.

"Now, let's see if we can get down to business," he said, taking another large hit and slowly letting it out. "As we've already gone over, you made the decision to take a fair amount of money from the Brothers without their permission." He leaned further forward and continued with, "And we know it was without permission because, while you eventually enjoyed getting that little pussy of yours fucked silly last night, you probably wouldn't have initially shown up after my little note to you. Would that be a fair statement; that you were naughty and stole from them?"

I nodded my head which elicited another kick to the side of the cage. "Yes!" I said aloud.

"Yes what?" He snapped. The way he said it, it reminded me of when a parent or an authority figure demanded a more proper, polite ending to an answer.

"Ye...yes, sir," I stammered out.

"That's better. You might as well get used to ending each response in that manner." Brady took another long drag of his cigarette, flicked his ashes again on the floor, and continued. "Not a very smart thing, taking that money like that. I bet you thought you were smart enough not to get caught. Now, you're in pretty deep shit and the only thing that's going to save you is putting that money back before they find out."

"Please, Mr. Brady, sir. It was my intention to put every dime of it back. I got in trouble and I wasn't thinking clearly. I swear I'll put in every penny I can spare till it is all back!"

"You don't call me by that fucking name, cunt!" His boot came up and kicked the side of my cage again.

I started to sob. "What do you want from me?"

"We'll come to that soon enough. For the moment, I want you to shut the fuck up and listen." Brady took another drag of his cigarette and said, "You're in need of money and seeing as how I'm the one standing between you and certain doom if the Brothers find out about this, you're going to do exactly as I say to start earning it back."

I looked up with still watery eyes, not quite sure what he meant. I wasn't prepared for what was next to come out of his mouth.

"You are going to be trained to be my little sissy whore. You already got a taste of what that life will be like last night. You'll eventually be rented out to every guy who wants to use either that mouth or pussy as a cum dumpster. In time, you'll find some days will pass where you'll be practically overflowing on both ends and plastered in your client's splooge. That is what I envision for you. That's how you're going to earn that money back and get out of the pickle you've gotten yourself in."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Having him fuck me the previous night was horrible enough. He couldn't be serious! Surely, he wasn't really going to turn me into some sissy prostitute...right?

"Please, sir. I don't want that life. I'll do anything to make it worth your while. I just need a little time. But don't make me do those things, please!" My gaze pleaded with him. He had a gleeful look across his face; like he was thoroughly enjoying my torment.

"That seems like a fair request." He raised his arms in the air and said, "I'm not a monster. Of course I'm going to give you a choice."

I couldn't believe my ears. Had I heard him correctly? Was I really going to have a choice? Could I somehow get out of this without having to play his silly and humiliating game? Though I wanted to believe it would be that simple, I knew there would be more to it.

Then he said, "After all, you had a choice last night; to either leave the motel or to follow each of my instructions."

"I didn't have a choice!" I argued. "You threatened to expose me."

"I simply told you the consequences of choosing not to follow my instuctions and you made a decision based on that. I didn't physically force you into that room, make you strip, burn all your body hair off, dress you in lingerie, and lock bondage gear onto your head and face. You did that all your own because you didn't like the consequence of what would happen if you didn't. That was a choice and you alone made it."

In all his madness, there was some truth that I hated to admit. I hadn't been physically forced, but there were no good options in any of the scenarios; then or now.

"So, if you truly don't want this wonderful life as my sissy slave, then that's your choice." That's when he leaned down and collected the folder laying on the floor. "But allow me to show you a few things before you make any rash decisions."

I watched through the bars as Brady opened the folder. Inside was a stack of photos. One by one, Brady laid them out in front of the cage for me to see. They were of the two men who Brady had told me about over the phone. I recognized two of them as the photos that had been texted to me. While those had been bad, these new photos truly showed how badly injured these men had become. I saw their bodies bruised and bloodied in a multitude of casts and bandages; so much so that they looked to have come within an inch of their lives.

"Let me give you a little info on these two;"

Brady went on to tell me that these two men had worked for the company a couple of years back. Now, they had not taken money blatantly from a safe like I had, but they had siphoned off a good bit of money from the company, both using different tactics but basically having the same end result. The Brothers had discovered this and proceeded to get their own form of justice before allowing the actual law to take place.

"Daniel here," Brady said, pointing to one of the men in the photo, "Was on his way out of town when he found that his brakes had quit working. His car careened off a cliff and fell thirty feet. He received eight bone breaks and multiple lacerations along with a head injury that left him in a coma for four weeks. It was a hard road, but he'd begun to make great strides in his recovery only to then be charged with embezzlement.

Brady then moved on to the next guy.

"Clint here suffered a grueling fate as well. He was on a trip to a not-so-nice part of the city. While there, he was mugged and stabbed seven times. Fortunate for him, his injuries were not life threatening; but I imagine they were still pretty painful. His healing process was also long and tormenting, but much like Daniel, he too found himself in legal trouble as the evidence came to light of him siphoning money away from the company." Brady took a hit of his cigarette and then crossed his arms. "Of course none of these incidents were ever linked to either of the Brothers, but anyone who truly knows the Brothers knows."

Those two stories put a sick feeling in my stomach. Brady began collecting the photos and returned them to the folder. Taking a final hit from his cigarette, he used one of the cage's bars to knock the cherry off the end. I had to move my hand and back away as much as I could to keep it from hitting me. He then threw the butt into the cage, actually hitting me on my cheek with it.

"Sorry about that," he mocked and then sat back in his chair. He looked down at me with a smirk and said, "So now we come to you. You know, you should consider yourself lucky that I've offered to take you as my property. Would you rather end up like either of these guys," he asked as he waved the folder that was clenched in his hand at me. "Do you want your face busted and your bones broken, having to lay up for weeks or months only to ultimately end up behind bars? Or would you rather have to deal with tight little girly outfits and a little bit of cum?"

I became quite stern. "I don't want to deal with any of it! I swear I'll pay it all back and I'll get you some money too!"

"How? Huh? Answer me that! Are you gonna steal it? We see how well you can do that. You gonna gamble? Clearly you suck at that too since you had to steal to pay your gambling debts in the first place." My look of astonishment was not lost on him. "Yeah, I know all about those debts. I bet the Brothers will find it interesting too."

"I don't know how I will, but I will. I promise."

"Oh, I know how you'll end up paying it back. That is to say if you've come to your senses and know what is going to be the best option for you." Brady stood up from his chair and removed a key from his pocket. "So, now it all comes down to this moment. We've reached the fork in the road and we're about to see which path you'll choose. In a moment, I'm going to unlock this cage door and you're going to come crawling out. Then one of two things will happen; you'll either tell me to go pound sand and I'll collect my things and leave. Of course I'll be taking those things; the security footage along with all those lovely pictures and video of last night with me to the Brothers. I'll bet they'll think you stole their money to pay for a sex change operation. When they find you, they'll likely cut your little thing off for free."

He made a swiping motion around his crotch with his index finger; a symbol of having a knife slicing off my manhood. The thought of being castrated caused my guts to churn and my stomach to do flips. Then, Brady continued with my second option.

"Or option two will be that you come out, get on your knees in front of me, and ask in your sweetest, sissy voice to pretty please let you become my sissy slave. Anything less and I'll be off to deliver the goods to you-know-who. Those are your two options, plain and simple. Now, time to choose."

Brady fumbled with the lock which gave me only a few seconds to think. Was this seriously happening to me? Was there no other feasible way out of the mess I was in? Why was this guy doing this to me? Had I done something to him to treat me like garbage and put me through such humiliation?

I couldn't think about those questions even though they kept rolling through my head. A decision loomed just a few seconds ahead of me. What was I going to do? Every bit of me wanted to tell him to go to hell and to go fuck himself. Actually, I would have preferred some big, strapping pervert with a dick about a foot long do to him what he'd done to me. Alas, I knew that was a fantasy that wasn't likely to play out.

If I were to say those things, it would likely be just a matter of time before I was caught up to once he turned me in. I could always try to run, but how far could I go? Would I have to run indefinitely; never being able to settle down in one place for long? If I was hunted down, would I end up like the men in the photos; badly beaten and broken before my ultimate incarceration?

Then I had to consider the flip side; what if I submitted to Brady's demands? How long would he keep me his sissy slave? How far would he push me? I'd already been raped! How much worse could it possibly get? Would there be an end where I was no longer his property and in no danger with the Brothers? If so, just how long would that be and what would I have to endure in the meantime? The questions and scenarios of both options swarmed through my mind. I was so torn!

The door swinging open was quite sobering and brought the thought process to an immediate halt. I had no time to think or to debate with myself. What could I possibly do? Brady took a step back to allow me to crawl out. Though I had quite the quandary in front of me, it felt good to be able to stand and stretch. My time inside the cage wasn't long, but it was brutal. I looked at Brady who had a smug look on his face. He seemed to know what I was going to do. I wanted nothing more than to go with option one. It would have been satisfying to tell him to go to hell and kick the fucker out of my house. However, that euphoric event would only last a few short moments. Everything after that would make me a nervous wreck, causing me to constantly check over my shoulder. That was something I didn't want to do.

Option two, while it wasn't exactly a better option I would say, would buy me time to figure something more permanent out where I wouldn't have to run and hide. Sure, I'd have to play Brady's game and on his terms. I'd likely have to parade around naked or in some ridiculous, slutty garment. While I didn't want to, I could at least deal with it. I just had to hope that I could figure out a feasible plan before I would be forced around any guys or their bodily fluids.

My decision was made, and I moved over in front of Brady with a heavy heart to let him know which decision it was. He stared at me with a sideways grin that I just wanted to smack off his face. Instead, I began dropping down to my knees. My head remained low; ashamed of what was about to come out of my mouth.

With my voice pitched high, I got out, "Could I please be allowed to become your sissy slave?"

He scoffed, "Really? That was it? That was fucking pathetic! It's quite clear you don't really want to be my sissy slave!"

Unbelievable! He was going to make me put on a show for him. Like I was auditioning for a role in a play or applying for a job. Then I thought, perhaps I could spin it in my mind so that it felt like that. Maybe that would make the shame I felt not sting as much and the words flow a little easier.

Mustering up a more sincere, sissy voice, I looked up at Brady and said, "Oh please, sir, I would love it if you would allow me to become your sissy slave."

Brady stared down at me with another lack-luster glare. I clearly had not wowed him. What more did this fucker want out of me? Then, he got a look on his face like he had a bright idea.

"Why don't you ask me using the term 'Master'."

"Master?"

"Yes," he clarified. "That is the title you will use when addressing me. It seems only fitting, doesn't it? Now, try it again and I really want to believe that you want to become my property. Otherwise, I don't think this is going to work."

In the cage, I'd become stark white at his words. Now he was making me as red as the blood that I wanted to drain from him. What he wanted me to do was already humiliating enough. He just had to keep twisting the knife. I had to take a second to compose myself. Otherwise, I was going to tell him to go fuck himself. The words I gathered to say were like bile that made me want to puke, but I got them out in a sincere, high-pitched sissy voice.

"Oh please Master; it would be such a great privilege to be allowed to become your sissy slave and property. Would you please, please allow me that honor?"

That was it! I was done. If that wasn't good enough for him then nothing was going to be good enough for him.

"Are you absolutely sure that you want this life?"

Why couldn't he just get on with it instead of putting me through this hell! Was my continuous admission of wanting to become his slave really that enjoyable to him?

"Oh yes sir; yes Master! I would love to become your property."

"I want a girl who's going to be obedient. Can you be that girl?"