Red Swallow Ch. 07

I was inspired to reach out to Barbara Jean Goodhead after reading her story, "The Diary of Jewel Delacroix" If you haven't read it, I encourage you to do so.

I had an idea for a story, but have never published erotica, so asked if Barbara Jean would like to collaborate. Happily, she agreed, and the result has been this tale of Dustin's journey to becoming Desiree.

This is a collaborative work between Rachael Ricci Swede and Barbara Jean Goodhead.

Here are the usual disclaimers:

All characters are fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person living, or dead, fictional or non-fictional, in this or in any other universe. All are over the age of 18 unless specifically stated otherwise.

The following story contains themes of cross-dressing, feminization, forced feminization, reluctance, non-consent, and many other adult topics.

This is porn; you must be over 18 to read this. If not, go away and come back when you are old enough. If this style of erotica is not your cup of tea, then please do find something more to your liking. If you do like this style, then I encourage feedback and constructive criticism. Thank you for reading!

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Red Swallow Chapter 7 - The Fetish Club

The swallow bird is usually associated with love, loyalty and peace. Swallows as bird spirit animals are considered joyful, decisive and full of hope.

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It was around 11:30, and the town car was gliding through a quieter part of the city full of old warehouses. Desiree took another drink from a bottle of water she had taken from the mini-bar in the back of the car. Carl contentedly sipped a Scotch, enjoying the afterglow of the powerful orgasm Desiree had given him with her mouth and hands.

Desiree opened her purse, and touched up her make-up. The Stinger was still pulsating pleasantly, on its lowest setting. Conflicting feelings roiled in her chest - she was still angry at Carl and despised him, yet it was not as strong or hot a feeling as before. And part of her had to admit, Carl looked really good in that suit.

She felt very feminine and sexy, and... bad. She'd just finished her second blow job of the evening on her second man. She felt that she should feel shame, but instead she felt... deliciously naughty. Her make-up repaired and immaculate, she snapped her compact shut and returned it to her purse.

Carl produced a small case, and opened it. Inside was a porcelain mask, like the ones Desiree had seen in pictures of Carnival at Venice. It was white, with dark blue lips and matching accents on the forehead. Carl put it on.

"What is that all about?" Desiree asked with some alarm.

"Rules of the club," Carl's voice was somewhat muffled.

"Do... do I have to wear one?" Desiree stammered.

She could hear his smile as he responded, "No, Slave, we wouldn't want to hide that pretty face, now would we?"

The town car stopped, and the driver opened the door and offered a hand. Desiree took it and stepped out, leaving her coat inside. She looked around in confusion - they were in a dark, grungy alleyway surrounded by old, brick industrial buildings. What kind of club would be found here?

Carl walked up to a red metal door set into a brick wall with a weak, single-bulb lamp above it, and knocked three times. A peephole opened, and a deep male voice asked for a password. Carl mumbled something, the door opened, and they went inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

They stood in a dark hallway with an enormous bouncer looming over them. Carl peeled a couple bills off of a roll he produced from his pocket, and the bouncer stepped aside.

They started walking down the hallway, at the end of which was a very modern looking elevator. It looked somewhat odd, as the rest of the building's interior looked like it had been built 200 years ago.

From somewhere deep in the bowels of the building below them, Desiree could feel the faint thump of the bass of dance music drifting up. They got into the elevator and rode it down. As the elevator descended, Desiree endured Carl's attentions to her latex-covered ass.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Desiree was stunned by what she saw.

They stepped out into the original basement of the old warehouse they were in, which had been converted to a gothic, S&M dungeon.

Bass-heavy trance and club music came from speakers throughout. The floor was concrete, and the walls brick. There was a main hall running about 100 feet in front of him, with a warren of passages and side-rooms leading off to who-knows-what. It was very dark, with light sources from covered sconces set into the walls or black lights.

A woman walked up to them, and Desiree looked her up and down... and then did so again. She stood about six feet tall in her stiletto heels, and was wearing a jet-black, long-sleeved, high-necked latex dress that hugged her curves and ended just above the knee. It had been polished to a high gloss, and shimmered as she walked.

She had a fantastic, athletic body, and Desiree felt a pang of jealousy and insecurity. Her black hair was styled short, hanging just past her chin with straight-cut bangs that framed a beautiful - but cold - face with piercing blue eyes.

The woman walked up to Carl and they exchanged a kiss each cheek. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Marks," she said with a light French accent. "It is good to see you again. We have your usual room prepared." She produced a small tablet and clicked away with her French-manicured nails as she registered his arrival. Desiree wondered briefly how the woman knew it was Carl with the mask on.

"Thank you, Sophie, always a pleasure," Carl responded. "Have the other parties arrived?"

"Yes, but they have been socializing a bit. Shall I guide them to your room?"

"In about half an hour, if you would. I have a new slave," here Carl indicated Desiree with a nod, "and I would like to familiarize her with the club before we start."

Sophie looked at Desiree for the first time during the entire exchange. Her crystal blue eyes scanned her from head to foot, her face expressionless. "Very good, Mr. Marks. Your room is ready when you are." And with that she turned on her heels and walked away, her hips swaying enticingly.

Carl turned to Desiree. "Slave, you may have a drink to loosen up, and I will show you around a bit. And then the fun begins!"

Desiree took this to mean she should get them both drinks. She was the slave after all, right? She walked to the nearest bar, ordered them both drinks, another scotch for Carl, and a long island ice tea for herself.

She delivered Carl his drink and then they slowly walked through the club. Directly in front of them was the main hall, with a dance floor and an elevated DJ stage against the far wall. They began walking towards the dance floor where perhaps 30 or 40 people gyrated. Desiree stared at the scene around her.

It was clear that everyone in the club put an extraordinary amount of thought into how they dressed. The men wore stylish - and very expensive looking - suits, with even a tuxedo here and there. They all had masks on, and no two were the same. Carl's mask was subdued by comparison to most - many were ornately decorated with crystals, painted designs, and even colored feathers.

As Desiree observed more of the crowd, it seemed the women (and t-girls) fit into two different categories. Some women wore a variety of outfits, from elegant gowns to cocktail dresses to figure-hugging bodycon dresses. They also wore masks, hiding their identities.

But then other women were without masks, and dressed much more like Desiree. Latex and leather outfits were the norm, some in catsuits like Desiree, others in dresses or pants and tops combos. There were also a number who were simply dressed in lingerie. A number of them had leashes attached to collars around their throats, and were being led around by individuals with masks.

Carl was looking at her, and seemed to read her thoughts. "You see, Slave, this is a club for Masters, where Slaves serve to pleasure us. Most Masters are men, but some are women," he sneered at that last bit, showing his opinion of female Masters.

Desiree caught herself before she rolled her eyes. For what felt like the millionth time since she had first met Carl, she thought, "God this guy is such a douche."

"And those without masks, uh, Master?" Desiree asked.

Carl ignored the hesitation. "Why, they are the slaves, like you!"

They exited the dance floor through a side passage and explored further. This part of the club was a rabbit warren of passage-ways and side rooms. From within the side rooms, behind closed curtains, Desiree could hear sounds of passion. She grew alarmed as she realized what was going on in this club. But the alarm was soon pushed aside by intense curiosity.

They came to a room where the curtains had not been closed. Inside was a sight that stopped Desiree in her tracks. A woman in a red latex body-suit and matching leggings was suspended in some kind of swing.

Each foot was held in a stirrup high above her, spreading her legs and exposing her pussy to her partner. Each hand gripped a chain that connected one end of the swing to bolts in the ceiling, and her head was tipped back in ecstasy, her long blonde hair nearly reaching the floor.

Her partner was a tall, lean man, completely naked, his clothes in a corner behind him. But he kept his mask on. He was holding the other two chains of the swing, and gently rocking it. As the swing moved back and forth, his enormous phallus slid in and out of the woman in the swing, as she moaned in time with each stroke.

Desiree was transfixed, and becoming very aroused. Suddenly, the Stinger came alive on a low-medium setting. Desiree's eyes rolled back in her head for a moment, but then snapped back to the scene in front of her as she was able to regain her composure. The woman's ample breasts were bouncing in time with the swing, and the man was picking up the tempo.

Suddenly she felt Carl press into her backside, his hardening cock pressing urgently against her latex-covered ass. His hands reached around to her breasts, and his lips found her neck. He breathed, "Watch closely, Slave, I expect you to perform far better than this specimen."

Desiree wanted to be repulsed by Carl, but in that moment, she was just too turned on and reached back to massage the sides of his ass and press him more firmly against her. He continued to dry hump her ass and mauled her silicone bosoms as they watched the couple. Eventually, the man's pace hit a fever pitch, and with loud groans of pleasure the slave in the swing and the man climaxed.

Carl grabbed Desiree's arm, and led her away quickly. They passed several more rooms, many with the curtains open, with all manner of sex acts going on. Desiree felt sexual desire and arousal reach a fever pitch like she hadn't felt before. The Stinger seemed to be just teasing her now - it was insidious, she needed to be filled, soon.

Finally, they came to a room at the top of a short staircase. Carl whipped aside the curtain and led her inside. The décor of the room was unlike any of the ones she had just passed. She blinked, and took stock of the situation.

The dimly-lit, circular room was a bit larger than the ones Desiree had seen thus far. It felt a bit like a Roman ruin, with plastered walls chipped away here and there to show the underlying brick. There was a fold in the plaster of the wall, about eye-level, that ran all the way around the room, in which there must have been set several candles because the main source of light was a flickering glow from that ring.

The far side of the room was open, with a small balcony that overlooked the dance floor. The club music filled the room. On the balcony, a matching black leather couch and chair, and a low table. Against the far wall, next to the balcony, was a small bar. Every few feet around the room was a floor-to-ceiling mirror, so one could watch themselves from any angle. And to the right, opposite the balcony, was another doorway with a closed curtain.

But what caught and held Desiree's attention was the "furniture" in the center of the room. It looked to her like a cross between a gymnast's pommel horse, and the body of a "crotch rocket" motorcycle. It appeared to be made of black leather, and had contours on the sides. She thought she knew what it was for, but her mind quailed at the realization.

"Gentlemen, we have arrived" Carl said. Desiree was shocked out of her thoughts and saw movement from the couch. Two men were already inside the room, both dressed in very modern and stylish black suits, and wearing ornate masks. They stood and walked closer, studying Desiree.

"Damn, Carl," said one. "You really outdid yourself this time!" The muffled voice was somehow familiar to Desiree.

"Yeah! She is fucking hot, man!" said the other. And as she started to place the voices, cold panic washed down her spine.

"Wait," said the first. "Isn't this the bitch we saw at Le Parisienne earlier tonight, the one trying to go into the men's room?"

"Yeah!" said the second. "It totally is! What's going on here, Carl?"

Carl laughed. "Yeah, I sent her in there, thinking she might bump into you morons," he replied. "But it gets better!" He held out his arms towards Desiree, like a showman introducing the main act. "Guys, without further ado, I give you... DUSTIN!"

The room was silent for a heartbeat. In spite of the Stinger quietly humming away, Desiree wanted to disappear. And then both the two men started exclaiming, "What the FUUUUCK?! Are you serious? Holy shit!"

"Guys, I know it is against club norms, but let's lose the masks. This is too good," Carl instructed.

The other two looked at each other for a moment, and shrugged. As Desiree expected, they removed their masks to reveal David and John.

Desiree turned to bolt from the room, and Carl caught her arm in a large hand. "Now, now dear, we'll have none of that. You're going to service us like a good Slave, and I'm willing to bet my last dollar that you're going to love it."

"But first, a little preparation," he said and fished his phone from his pocket. He tapped a few times, and the Stinger went dead and then deflated, leaving Desiree with an empty, strangely disappointed feeling.

"Now, Slave, go into the bathroom through that curtain, and remove the Stinger. You'll find a zipper on your catsuit to give you access. Then, apply the lotion and lube yourself, and then meet us back over at the horse." He slapped a hand against the black surface of the object in the center of the room for emphasis.

Desiree complied, walking into the bathroom behind the curtain with her purse. It was small and simple, lit by a single fluorescent light, but very clean. She placed her purse on a ledge in the wall, and examined her catsuit.

With much effort, she was able to find the ingeniously subtle hidden zipper and unzipped it. It started just above her penis, and extended to a few inches above the crack of her ass. Her little penis flopped out.

She reached back and pulled out the Stinger, leaving her with a longing ache and a feeling of emptiness. She rinsed it in the sink, then wiped it down and dropped it in her purse.

Then, she took some of the perfume from her purse and applied it to her penis, testicles and anus. Finally, she removed the large bottle of lube. She noted that the label said it was scented. Desiree gave it a tentative sniff and decided it smelled pleasant, almost like a rose.

She opened the nozzle with a twist, placed it gently inside her ass, and she squirted a generous amount into her derriere. Thus prepared, she touched up her make-up, tossed the empty lube bottle into the trash, replaced everything else back in her purse, and left it on the bathroom ledge.

Desiree exited the bathroom and looked across the room. The men had removed their suits and were pulling off their briefs. Her eyes bulged at the sight of David's cock. It was completely flaccid, but must have been 9 inches, and thick.

She approached the center of the room with a great deal of trepidation. Dustin was in her head, and he was raging. He was humiliated; these were the men Dustin had worked with every day for months, from whom Dustin had sought acceptance for over a year, since he moved to New York!

And now Carl, who had been the first to fuck him as a whore back at COBALT, had just shared his most humiliating secret with them. That he was more than just working as a Diva at COBALT as a hostess and waitress and entertainer. They must have known COBALT was also a brothel. They all must have known, and now they would tell everyone.

But as he slowly moved toward the horse, biting his lip, Dustin caught sight of himself in the closest mirror, and he turned to examine the image.

The candlelight flickered off of her highly polished, latex figure, the material accentuating her stunning figure. She gracefully ran her hands over her body, luxuriating in the feel of the latex and her hourglass curves. The job Karen had done on her face - which she had to admit, was already very pretty without make-up - turned her into a vision of desire and seduction. And with that, Desiree was back, and Dustin was pushed aside.

Her mind filled with thoughts of her first sexual encounter with Carl at COBALT, the many clients she had serviced, and her amazing sexual relationship with Adam. And then the gorgeous, coital scenes that had aroused her so much as she and Carl walked through the club's maze of rooms. Desiree's desires were inflamed.

Desiree strode confidently to the middle of the room, and put a hand on the horse, cocking her hip. "Come on boys, we don't have all night," she breathed.

Three sets of eyes turned to her. This wasn't quite what they had been expecting. Desiree climbed onto the horse, and found that it was a comfortable fit. She was straddling it, with her thighs and knees supported by one set of contours built into its sides.

The surface of the horse fell away towards the rear, so her ass was elevated and her penis and testicles hung free. Her corseted stomach rested on the body of the horse, with her massive boobs snugly hanging over its front edge. Her arms nestled into molded contours on the front edge.

By this time, the three men were becoming aroused. John walked over to her face, his stiffening cock at a perfect even level with her mouth. Desiree looked up and slowly smiled at him, and licked her lips. She could see the simple gesture made him stiffen further.

"Well, let's go," she thought to herself as she mentally took a leap and plunged into the deep end.

She reached out and grasped John's dick with one gloved hand, and started gently playing with his balls with the other. John gasped a little, and pushed closer. He was about the same length as Carl's 7 inches but quite a bit thicker.

Desiree pulled him close and licked the head of his cut member, eliciting a shudder. She continued to lick up and down his shaft for a bit, and then opened wide and took the third cock of her evening into her mouth.

Meanwhile, Carl had moved to her backside, and started fondling her anus. She quivered in anticipation, as he slid two fingers in and out of her. She opened her eyes as she bobbed on John's dick, and saw David to her left, slowly stroking his enormous 9-inch monster to half-mast.

After a few minutes, Desiree started to get irritated with Carl. The fingers were nice, but she was getting frustrated, she needed his cock in her. Just as she was about to spit out John to snap at Carl, he pushed the head of his phallus against her anus. She tensed momentarily, but the butt plug had helped to loosen her, and the initial pain of Carl's entry was greatly reduced what it would normally be.

Carl pushed into her; only penetrating her with the head of his cock, then pulled out and continued again at that depth, and continued for a quite a while. He was fucking with her again, teasing her anal ring and denying her the pleasure of fullness she wanted.