Payback Pt. 01

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as Jimmy and I stood in front of Mr Butcher, I thought my life was about to end. And I suppose in a way it was, but not with a bullet as I feared.

Jimmy and I were both 21. We had just finished university. In our last year we had got involved with a local gangster running drugs. It had helped pay our bills and was better (and more lucrative) than working in a bar. And when we found ourselves with 30 grand in cash, the temptation proved too great. Neither of us were from the town, we were only there to study, and we thought that 15 thousand each would get us away cleanly. I could go back to my parents while I figured what to do wit my life. Jimmy felt the same. No one in the gang knew where we were originally from. The plan was fool-proof. The problem was that the people we were dealing with weren't fools, and our scheme wasn't prof against clever people.

And so we found ourselves standing in front of Mr Butcher, our hands tied, having been dragged there at gunpoint, thinking that this was the end of our lives. In my stupidity I had thought he wouldn't notice a measly 30k going missing. Or if he did, that wouldn't care.

"But it's the principal of the thing," he explained to us calmly. "If I let some little turds like you get away with thirty thou, then someone else is going to think they can get away with fifty, or a hundred. There has to be payback. You can see that, can't you?"

He sounded very reasonable. He looked reasonable too. A nice suit, his chestnut hair with a natural wave across his forehead, albeit a hint of grey at the temples, he looked every inch a respectable businessman. But there was a slight downturn at the side of the mouth that gave him a mean and ruthless look, or so it seemed to me. Although that might have been due to the gun poking into my back.

Jimmy and I nodded at his words. There did indeed have to be payback, we could see that. I would have reached out to touch Jimmy's hand. It wasn't that we were gay or anything, far from it, it was just that if you are going to be shot, it would be nice to have some sort of human contact. But I couldn't touch Jimmy as my hands were tied behind my back.

"But it doesn't have to end like this," Butcher went on. "Like I say, there has to be some sort of payback. Dumping bodies is awkward. Questions get asked. So I'm giving you a choice. We can end it now, or I can give you some other kind of work, although you won't get paid. I think lawyers call it pro bono," his henchmen behind me laughed.

"You're both young, and I have another project where a couple of vacancies have opened up. You can help me with that if you want. You'll only have to do it for a month if you're good boys," again the henchmen laughed. Does that appeal to you, or would you rather have a bullet in the head now?"

It wasn't really much of a choice. I didn't ask for a moment to think about. Nor did I ask what the other work entailed. Without knowing what would be expected of us, Jimmy and I both agreed to the option that left us alive.

They put bags over our heads and we were taken out of the office and put in a van. I thought we'd be beaten along the way, but I heard one of the thugs say that the boss didn't want the merchandise damaged. And it seemed that Jimmy and I were the merchandise. That alone might have sounded ominous, were it not for the alternative of being killed.

After the van ride, we were led up some steps and it was only when we had been sat down on surprisingly comfy chairs that the bags were removed from our heads.

I'm not sure what I'd expected; a dank cellar with blood spattered walls perhaps, certainly some dark place were dark deeds took place, but the room we found ourselves in was warm, well-lit and rather cosy. The chairs were comfortable. There were three dressing tables on one side of the room with large mirrors surrounded by lights. On the tables were a variety of cosmetics. And standing in the middle of the room was a pretty, smiling woman dressed in a stylish skirt suit.

"These are your new bitches," one of the thugs said to the woman as he cut the cable-ties from our wrists. He then took my face in his hand. Leaning in close, he said, "Don't think about trying to get away. There is no escape.. The boss is being very generous. If you do what this lady says, then in a month you'll be free to go. And if not, well, you know the alternative."

His breath went into my face. I'd like to say it smelled rotten, but it didn't. It was minty. He obviously had good dental hygiene. However, I was sure that the smell of mint would always conjure an image of death for me in the future.

Both Jimmy and I nodded furiously in response to his words. The thug seemed happy. "Right, you seem to understand. Now strip."

He and his friend watched us laughing as we took off our clothes, which they ordered us to stick into a bin bag. Once we were naked, they took the bag, gave us one last warning and left.

"I'm sorry about that," the woman said smiling compassionately at us. "I actually run quite a happy ship here. The girls all enjoy the work, well, most of the time." She cast a glance at the door the thugs had left through. "But some men can be such brutes sometimes."

Jimmy and I agreed.

"Let me introduce myself, I'm Belle."

She reached out her hand for me to shake. I was about to tell her my name. She cut me short. "I'm sorry sweetie, your names will be what I tell you they are," she said. "Have they explained what you will have to do here?"

We didn't know. So she told us. It wasn't what either Jimmy or myself expected. And at the time I didn't think it was the kind of work we'd enjoy.

In addition to the drugs, Mr Butcher ran a number of side lines. Some were straight forward money-laundering schemes, a barbers' shop with a £1 million turnover, a laundrette supposedly with a similar income. These were the sort of thing the police should investigate. But there were other businesses too. One was the club that was run by Belle. It was an exclusive sex club featuring ladyboys. And that was now going to be our job.

Both Jimmy and I were straight. He had a little more luck with the ladies than I did, but we had both pulled our fair share of girls in our time at the university. Jimmy had pulled more than his fair share to be honest. But none of the relationships had lasted for more than a few weeks. So the news that we would be the playthings of lustful men was not one that immediately appealed.

But it was better than the other option.

Belle looked us up and down shaking her head as we stood naked before her. "It'll be tough," she told us. "My girls are usually, well, girly. When they come to us they are already usually some way down the line. So you two will be a bit of a challenge." Her features lit up and she smiled. "Fortunately I like a challenge."

"It won't be possible," Jimmy declared.

"You're young, quite sweet, it's perfectly possible," Belle stated. "And when we're done, your job will be to go round the tables taking drinks orders like any good waitress. And if the client wants something else, you'll supply those needs too." She spoke with a smile on her face, but neither Jimmy or I smiled back. "Don't look so glum. The girls tend to love their work. I'm sure you will too."

We were still naked while she spoke to us. Once she'd finished she led us through to the bathroom at the side of the dressing room. There he made us take baths, one at a time with Jimmy going first. And while in the bath she made us shave everywhere; legs, armpits, our faces an chests, all of our hair came off.

It was very strange, like being a child again when my mum would give me a bath. But Belle had a calming way about her with soothing conversation so that I actually enjoyed it, although not in a sexual way.

When we were clean and smooth to her satisfaction, she gave us an exfoliant cream for our faces. "Hopefully it will slow down further beard growth," she told us. And then came injections into out buttocks which she informed us were a mix of oestrogen and testosterone blockers.

Bathed and hairless, but still naked, she took our measurements, tutted and said something about "men" under her breath, and then went to get us our uniforms.

"Fucking hell!" said Jimmy. And then, "Fucking hell!" again. It was a sentiment I sympathised with, and under the circumstances, eloquently put. "Why did I let you..." he began.

"Don't blame me. It was your idea."

"But it was when I was drunk. We all say shit when we're drunk. It was you that brought it up the next day when we were sober."

"And it was you that had it all planned out," I reminded him.

He shook his head and laughed. I joined him. It was nerves as much as actually finding or saying anything funny.

"But still, I suppose this is better than the alternative," he stated.

It was then that Belle came back with our attire. They were classical French Maid outfits; short tiered black skirts with white lace underskirts, and low-cut black top with puffy sleeves and white lace trim at the neckline and cuffs. There were also garter belts, sheer black stockings and black satin panties. There was a small lace apron, like a sporran, to be worn at the front of the skirt where we would keep a notebook for drinks orders, some wet wipes, and a tube of strawberry flavoured lube.

It was when Belle mentioned "lube" that Jimmy and I looked at each other and it really began to sink in what our job for the next month would be. Until then I had looked at out uniforms with a degree of excitement. If any girl I'd known had worn those things I would have found it highly enjoyable.

There was one last touch to our uniform; black four inch court heels. They were stylish, elegant and completely impractical for a job where we would be on our feet for large parts. And on our knees or backs for the rest of the time no doubt. But I tried not to think of that.

"Get used to wearing them," Belle told us.

We dressed under her supervision and at the end we looked exactly as you'd expect, like men in drag. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but Belle sat us in front of the mirror at the dressing table and gave us a tutorial on how to put make-up on. "I'll help you for the first couple of days, but you'll be experts before the week is out," she confidently predicted.

Neither Jimmy or I had long hair, so our looks were finished off by putting on a skull cap to hide our natural hair. Belle then showed us a cabinet in which a large number of wigs from which we could take our pick. "You can change the colour and cut each day, if you like. Although some of the girls have their own style and stick with it. But then most of the girls have their own hair." She looked at our chests. "But then most of the girls are growing their own boobs too."

When she had finally finished her transformation, I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror that was on the wall by the door at the far end of the room. I'd opted for a shoulder length brunette wig with a fringe. It nearly matched my natural hair colour. The sight of me standing in full maid outfit fully made up, made me feel sexy. It was the same lustful feeling I'd had so many times looking at girls ever since I hit puberty, only now it was myself I was finding sexy. Belle had done an excellent job.

Jimmy was suitably slutty-looking. He had opted for a short black wig styled in a bob. It suited him. "You look hot," I told him.

"I always knew I'd scrub up nice," he laughed. "You look good too," he then pointed to my chest. "Although you could do with a little something up there."

"Dancer's tits," I replied. "I've had a couple of women with not much up top. Remember Helen?"

"None of you birds have had much up top," he said tapping the side of his head. "It's why they ended up with you. But yes, I do remember Helen. Pretty girl, better than you deserved, probably. You should have stayed with her. Why did you break up?"

"Because she didn't have much up here," I said pointing at my non-existent bosom. Jimmy laughed. The real reason for the break up were more complicated and had nothing to do with the size of her tits.

Jimmy brought our lack of breasts to Belle's attention.

"I'm fully aware. I've got these pills," she gave them to us. "They are used to treat, something or other. But one of the side effects is that it can promote breast growth in males. With these and the oestrogen, in a week or so you'll start to see some changes. It'll largely be just fat depositing itself on your chest and round your bum, but it should help the illusion. Until then you'll just have to tell the punters that you've only just started out on the path. That's if they ask, most of them won't. But we try to avoid falsies here. Our girls have a reputation as being natural. It's the way I like it."

It was obvious by this time that we were getting close to opening time. The first of the girls had arrived. A pretty young woman in a pale blue dress had come in and was in the process of changing into her maids uniform. A young man came too and when he changed out of his jeans and baggy t-shirt I noticed two little breasts were forming on his chest. Once he had a bra on with silicone chicken fillets under the breasts she had a noticeable cleavage.

While the girls changed Belle had me and Jimmy practice walking in our heels. She also gave us name tags. Jimmy had Veronique over the right side of his chest while I had a tag that informed people my name was now Marie. Belle explained that while we all had French names we should use out own voices. "But try to sound as feminine as possible."

Jimmy, or Veronique, Ronni as Belle now called him, struggled to find and hold a falsetto tone. But I had discovered years before that I was good at imitating accents. When I put on a Scottish voice my tone dropped an octave. But when I affected a French accent, my voice raised. So I opted to try and sound French, it fitted with my costume. And it might not have made me sound like a woman, but it did make me sound less masculine.

In addition to myself and Jimmy, or Ronni as he was now to be known, there were Danielle, Alisa, Michelle and Bettie.

By now the place was open and we went out to meet the clientele.

The room was quite compact. There were fifteen tables, each in its own secluded alcove, screened from the other tables by wooden panels. Across the front of each booth was a curtain that could be drawn for privacy. There was a stage at the rear of the room where acts could appear, although it didn't seem that any entertainment was planned as the stage was bare.

By one of the booths to the left there was a red light on. Belle said, "Right, Marie, when the light is on the customers want service, so off you go."

It took me a second to realise she was talking to me. So off I toddled unsteadily in my heels, feeling very self-conscious of the fact that I was dressed as a woman.

There were two men in the booth dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I guessed they were around thirty. Their clothes surprised me. I had thought the place would have a strict dress code. "Can I help you?" I asked, trying to raise my voice higher.

"Sure, sugar," one of them said. He then ordered two cocktails. I smiled, took their order and tottered back to the bar.

That was easy, I thought to myself. I'd done bar work before. The only differences were the way I was dressed and that the men had asked for cocktails rather than the usual pints or shorts. And the only difficulty was walking in the heels.

Belle was behind the bar and while she made the drinks she pointed to another light. "Table eight," she pointed out to me. "Go and take their order." And so off I toddled again. This table had three men sat around it, all wearing suits and looking very smart. Two were quite young and muscular somewhere in their late twenties, the third was an older man, bald with a hard face. He leered at me and slapped my bum as I left having written their order down.

Back at the bar Belle took the new order and gave me the drinks for the first table. I took them and was surprised when one of the men slipped a £5 note into the top of one of my stockings.

I gave the note to Belle when I got back to the bar where she had finished making the drinks for table eight. "It's a tip," she told me. "This place is expensive to get into, very expensive. Everything is covered by the charge, the drinks, the services, the girls wages. Not that you and Ronni will be getting wages. The tips are just a bonus. Give it to me. I keep all the girls tips separate. They get it at the end of the night. You'll get yours at the end of the month." This was good news. Not only was I alive, but at the end of the month I'd have some cash.

I took the drinks to eight. And when I came back to the bar with another note in my stockings and a pat on the bum from the old guy, I noticed the light was back on at the first table. I went back expecting another order. They must have downed the first one quickly.

But the place was not just a bar.

As soon as I stepped in the first of the two guys told me to draw the curtain. I could see that they both appeared to be fondling themselves through their jeans. "Can I help you, monsieur?" I asked with a fake smile on my lips, rather hoping that they wouldn't ask me to.

"Sure Babe," one of them said. "I appear to have a problem with my fly."

Nervously I reached down to touch his fly. His friend slapped my arse and said, "On your knees, Honey."

I dropped to my knees as gracefully as I could and reached for his fly. I could see from the bulge in his jeans that he already had an erection. I struggled with the zip, but it wouldn't go down, so I undid his belt. Once I'd popped the button, the fly burst open. I pushed my hand down past the waistband of his underwear and felt his cock. It was the first time I'd ever felt another man's penis. He wasn't fully hard, but as I pushed his shorts down further it sprang out. It was the first time I'd been this close to one, barely inches from my face, and it looked huge. Pulling it free, I gripped the base and looked up into his face. He was smiling and I did my best to return the grin.

"Suck it," he ordered.

I lowered my head and opened my mouth. I licked the tip to see what he tasted like. It wasn't pleasant, but nor did it repulse me. And while I've never really looked at penises other than my own, it seemed to be a fine specimen. I took the end in my mouth, wrapping my lips around it. After bobbing up and down a few times, I decided to take him all in. He still wasn't fully erect and I knew that when he was there would be no way I could fit him in. I'd only had one girl who could deep throat me, and I doubted I'd be able to do that to him, so now was the only time I could take his entire length into my mouth.

I cast a glance to the side and saw that his friend had his cock out and was jerking it furiously. I glanced back up into the face of the man I was blowing. He was now smiling broadly.

He was now getting really hard, and so was I. I let him out and licked the entire length. It didn't taste too bad, indeed it was quite nice. I looked back up at him and smiled back.

Suddenly his friend said. "Come to me, come to me." He sounded frantic. Still holding the first cock, I shuffled over to the other guy and was about to go down on him when he shot his load over my face. I say over my face, but much of it went over the wig I was wearing and onto my cheek and neck. I took him into my mouth and suckled as he shot the last of his cum.

I'd never eaten sperm before. It was not a pleasant taste and had a slimy texture that I found unappealing. However, I sucked him dry while still gently massaging the first guy's dick. But then the first guy said, "I'm close. Do me now." So I went back over to him. I lowered my face and opened my mouth as he came. A huge spurt of his jizz flew over my face hitting me in the eye. It stung, and I turned my head involuntarily and felt more of his cum hit my cheek. I managed to open the one eye that was not blinded by his cum and lowered myself onto his convulsing organ before more could splatter over my face and get into my hair or on my clothes.