Trust Fund Baby Pt. 16

Fearing some blowback from the pair of them, I stopped attending that particular chapter of Sexaholics Anonymous, finding an alternative weekly meeting in a different city, fairly close to Newport Beach. Entering into a new group of deranged sex-addicts was fun, and within two weeks I had fucked five of the young girls.

Between the strip-club, Saddleback College, and my sobriety meetings for drugs, alcohol and sex addiction, I was fucking an inordinate number of young women. I thought that the supply would never dry up, but at some point I started to notice that more and more of them rejected my advances.

Figuring it was my declining looks as I got older, the next time I saw my uncle I asked him his secret for attracting young pussy at his advanced age.

"Pete," he said in his usual paternal manner. "I am looking for a young girlfriend, someone to wine and dine, and to treat like a lady. No matter how old I am, girls will gravitate towards me because I treat them with respect."

I felt like this was a departure from some of his previous advice, which was to only spend money on things you can directly enjoy, or benefit from, like lingerie, or a manicure. When I pressed him for his change of heart, he leaned in to me and shared his thoughts.

"I am not getting any younger, son," he said quietly, using my favorite salutation. "I don't want to die with tens of millions in the bank. I am worried about you though," he added. "You have a very bad reputation around town. Word is you are fixated on Jody Baldwin, and you dominate and abuse young women to take your mind from the love of your life. Be careful son. One day you might abuse the wrong man's daughter."

Shortly after my forty-fifth birthday, my beloved uncle passed away. I was devastated as he was my last remaining family on earth, and my most trusted advisor. His obituary mentioned that he was a self-made multi-millionaire, and identified me as his sole beneficiary, which I wasn't happy about. Not only was I besieged with investment offers, but every charitable organization within a hundred miles contacted me, requesting a donation.

I was a self-centered asshole, and basically told them all to pound sand, choosing instead to spend some of my windfall on the latest and greatest exotic hyper-cars. My current home, a twenty-four thousand square foot mansion in the hills of Newport Coast, had a twelve car garage, and I was intent on filling it with the most desirable automobiles on the planet.

Shortly after my much-publicized inheritance, I began to get the feeling that I was being followed. It was subtle at first, although over the months as my awareness heightened, I had no doubt that I was under some kind of surveillance. I was close friends with the Newport Beach Police Chief, so I asked him if he was aware of any law-enforcement interest in me, or my business dealings. After he assured me that they considered me to be a law-abiding citizen, I suspected the surveillance was for a nefarious reason, and I increased my security detail.

I had two bodyguards with me at all times, and a round the clock home protection detail, comprising of several ex-military servicemen, predominantly special forces. That is why the day of my abduction, at the age of forty-six, was completely unexpected, and the most terrifying moment of my entire life.

I was at home taking a shower when I heard my satellite-phone ring. Only three people in the universe had that number, and two of them were currently at my residence, my head of security and Olivia, who had stopped by for a visit.

I knew that it had to be important as that phone only rang about three times a year, even though it was always within arm's reach. I grabbed the waterproof, Iridium Extreme, military-grade phone, and answered it by the third ring.

"We are coming for you," an unknown voice said ominously. "We will be there in exactly one hour."

Ever since I had turned eighteen, I had contemplated the possibility of being kidnapped for ransom. My wealth at such a young age made me an obvious target, and my complete lack of familial connections, made me fit the profile of the perfect victim.

In the absence of heirs, and without the leverage of family, single wealthy victims were far more likely statistically to be personally kidnapped, at least according to data posted by the FBI. This made sense, as I imagined that if I had kids or a wife, they would be the obvious target of a kidnap for ransom demand.

After immediately informing my head of security, we went into lockdown mode. This was a drill that we occasionally practiced, that required me to take refuge in my safe-room, while my security team dealt with the intruders.

All of the other occupants of the house were sent home immediately, which included Olivia, two cleaners and a gardener. Once I was alone with my security team, four heavily-armed, ex-military guys, the head of security began to issue instructions.

"It is probably a hoax," he began confidently.

"It's Baldwin," I said quietly. "I fucked his wife and his daughter. It's definitely him. My uncle warned me that this could happen. Steve Baldwin is the only enemy I have on earth."

"Well, whoever the fuck Steve Baldwin is, we will handle him," my security chief said with confidence. "Although we need to get to the bottom of how your emergency contact number was compromised. Did you share it with anyone not on the list? His wife? His daughter?"

"No," I assured him. "The only people that have that number are you, Olivia and my stage-manager, Jade."

"Well, that aside," the ex-special forces commando continued. "What kind of moron gives us an hour to prepare for their arrival? This Baldwin guy must be an idiot."

A few moments later, with the house-alarm activated, and the security team in place at their designated emergency stations, I entered my safe-room and hunkered down.

Almost exactly one hour after I received the warning call, I heard my back-up generator start, an indicator that we had lost electrical power. Moments later my security alarms began to wail, although the sirens were silenced within seconds as my security team appeared to have dealt with the threat.

I answered my satellite-phone the instant it rang, only to be informed that my security team had been neutralized, and that the intruders were about to disable my satellite connection. I don't know what kind of advanced technology that the intruders were using, but when I went to call the Newport Beach Police Department for help, my signal had been compromised, and my heavily-encrypted, military-grade satellite-phone was worthless.

Having decided to shelter in place in my airtight, self-contained bunker, I sat on the floor, panting heavily from the stress. I had been given a lengthy tutorial about the safe-room shortly after it was installed, and as I watched the numerous dials and warning sensors, it became apparent that the intruders had taken control of my bunker too.

They disabled the fresh air supply first, knowing that without a constant supply of oxygen, my time in the pressurized capsule would be very limited. At this point, I suspected that it was an inside-job, and my suspicions fell on Olivia as the accomplice.

That suspicion was very short-lived, as it was the sound of Olivia being beaten that forced me to emerge from the safety of my bunker. They were obviously aware of her importance to me, and had swiftly rounded her up and began a brutal assault on her, which had the desired effect of rousting me from my hiding place.

I knew that this was a serious, well-planned, co-ordinated attempt when I saw my entire security team hogtied on the floor, rendered incapable of providing me any assistance. A few moments later, despite my pleas for mercy, I was hustled into a nondescript white van, with my hands bound behind my back, and a black hood over my head.

"Do you know who the fuck I am?" I yelled defiantly, trying a different tactical approach.

I remained passive and silent after receiving two hard punches to my solar plexus, and as I struggled to regain my breath, I felt the sharp prick of a needle in my buttocks.

Some time later, I awoke naked on the tiled floor of a communal shower facility. As I tried to recall how I got here, I came to terms with the fact that I was either in a prison, a hospital or on some kind of college campus. That was the only plausible explanation for the communal shower in which I lay.

I was still groggy from the injection, and even as I struggled to clear my head, I tried to come to terms with the fact that Baldwin had abducted me. As I ran through the terrifying ordeal, I remembered that his goons had beaten Olivia to flush me out of the safe room. Baldwin knew Olivia's importance to me and I prayed that he hadn't taken her too. His motive was clearly revenge rather than financial, as he had a hundred times as much money as I did. He would have known that with my uncle's recent passing, Olivia was my closest friend on earth.

"He is awake, Joelle," a high-pitched girlish voice said quietly, as two scantily-clad females entered the shower block. "Let Georgie know."

As Joelle scurried off down the hallway, her high-heels clicking on the tiles, the second alluringly-attired girl approached me as I lay on the floor.

"Can you stand?" she asked softly, her demeanor seemingly in contrast with her role as my captor.

I tried to get to my feet, but the effects of the drugs they had injected me with had altered my balance, and with my hands tied behind my back, I was unable to stand without assistance.

"No problem," the young girl said sweetly. "I will help you to your feet."

Working with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this before, the girl attached a thick leather belt around my waist, and secured a braided wire to the loop in the front of it.

"Stand slowly," she whispered. "The harness will support your weight."

With a touch on a hand-held remote, the wire began to slowly retract into an industrial looking winch, and as my weight was lifted skyward, the girl helped me to stand. The whole mechanism was freaking me out, particularly as its location and ease of use suggested it had been utilized before. I was truly powerless, with my hands still secured firmly behind my back, and I rocked unsteadily on my feet until Joelle returned.

As Joelle rounded the corner, her high-heels clacking in a rapid cadence which suggested that she was either running or taking short, effeminate steps, a flash of recognition washed over me. I knew this person years ago, although they had undergone a startling transformation.

"Hi Pete," Joelle said sweetly, as she worked in conjunction with the other girl to prepare me for Georgie. "Remember me?"

Truth be told, I couldn't place her. I didn't recall ever fucking someone named Joelle, although during my Saddleback College days, I hooked up with countless co-eds without learning their names. As I struggled to remember my sexual history with this young woman, the two of them untied my hands, and after handcuffing them in front of me, hoisted my arms up and hung me by my wrists from a sturdy hot water pipe that ran the length of the showers.

Releasing the braided wire from my waist harness, they positioned me in such a way that the majority of my weight hung from the pipe, with my toes barely touching the floor. It was an incredibly uncomfortable stress position, and I felt pressure in my shoulders immediately as I struggled to remain balanced on my tip-toes.

As the second girl came into focus, I recognized them both, although when I had last encountered them over twenty years ago in the dorms of Saddleback College, they had both been males.

"Joe?" I asked incredulously. "The Resident Assistant at Saddleback?"

"Yours truly," he said, in a high-pitched squeal that now passed for his voice. "And this is Nick, the kicker for the High School Football team."

"Nikki, now," she added helpfully.

As I struggled to process their transformation, they began mine.

"We are going to remove your body hair first," Joelle informed me sweetly. "Georgie hates manly men."

As I digested this new information, which seemed to suggest that it was someone other than Baldwin who had abducted me, I set about trying to figure out exactly which George I had pissed off sufficiently, that they would take retribution on this level. I could only recollect one George, the bartender from the patio bar where I had first encountered Madison, and I considered him an ally, if not a true friend.

Nikki and Joelle began to rub a depilatory cream across my shoulders and chest, their soft, beautifully-manicured hands, stirring some unwanted sensations within my groin area, particularly as I knew them both to be genetically male. They knew the effect that they were having on me, and seemed delighted by the prospect of getting me hard. As their silky hands worked the cream into my chest, I closed my eyes and tried to fight my arousal, which intensified as they toyed with my erect nipples.

Moving in unison, they systematically coated my entire body from below my eyebrows, with a thick layer of depilatory cream. They paid particular attention to my genital area, rubbing the cold cream into my nut-sack, ass-crack and taint with a very tender caress. I am ashamed to admit that by the time they had finished their sensual application, I was fully erect, and no longer concerned that these two hotties had at some point, been men.

As I took in their startling transformations, their birth genders seemed like a moot point. Joelle and Nikki had both lost forty pounds of body mass since their college days, through an arduous and systematic weight-loss program, which incorporated diet, exercise and liposuction, to create the beautiful feminine forms that they each currently possessed.

They were both sporting large, surgically-enhanced breasts, and each had their Adam's apple shaved, which was one of the few discernible physical differences between post-operative males and naturally born females. While their long, platinum-blonde hair had initially been achieved by an expensive human-hair wig, they had both since grown natural healthy-looking locks, which were bleached almost white on a regular basis.

The girls had endured several liposuction sessions, extracting the excess from their taut, lean stomachs, and using the latest cosmetic procedures, re-distributing it around their hips and buttocks, to create a more feminine appearance. They were sensual in every way, and as they allowed their soft fingertips to roam freely across my erection, I was ready to bust a nut.

"Six minutes," Joelle said quietly, as they began to wash the depilatory cream from my upper body, taking my hair away with it.

Once my chest and shoulders were completely devoid of hair, they rinsed my abdomen, genital area and legs. I was still hanging by my arms from the hot water pipe trying desperately to keep my toes on the ground, and the physical exertion was making me sweat, and creating a severe cramp in my calves.

"Please," I begged, after the pain intensified, "can you lower me a couple of inches so that my feet are flat on the floor?"

The girls ignored my pleas for a more comfortable position, and once I was free of any body hair below my eyebrows, they dried me off, kneeling before me, which did absolutely nothing to diminish my erection.

Nikki and Joelle dried my feet, which was easy as I was still suspended from the overhead pipe, with just my tip-toes touching the floor. Once she was satisfied that my feet were clean and dry, Joelle tapped on the remote control and the winch lowered me slightly, so that I could rest my feet flat on the floor. The relief was immediate and palpable, and I felt the blood rush to my calves, which had been stretched in a very uncomfortable position for the last thirty minutes or so.

The two of them began to apply a scented massage oil into my skin that served both to make me smell very feminine, and to soften me to the touch. The massage oil contained visible flakes, and as soon as it dried on my skin, it gave the appearance that I was covered in glitter.

Nikki left the shower block briefly returning with a scented anal-cleanse kit. Instinctively, I tried to fight the insertion of the nozzle between my buttocks, which was much easier now that I had both feet planted firmly on the floor.

"Relax and spread your butt-cheeks," Joelle ordered me. "Or I will raise you up again onto your tip-toes, and leave you hanging there until Georgie arrives."

I knew that I was fighting a losing battle as far as the anal-cleanse was concerned, so I spread my feet further apart and relaxed my ass-cheeks, which until now had been firmly clenched together, as I offered them as much resistance as I could. Nikki lubed up the tip of the nozzle and then gently inserted it through my sphincter, before squeezing the soft plastic sack that contained the enema solution.

"You may feel a little full the first few times," Joelle said with a giggle. "But over time you will get used to this procedure."

The girls ended up using three bags of the anal-cleanse solution before they deemed me sufficiently clean for Georgie, whoever the fuck he was. The whole time they prepared me for this upcoming meeting I was racking my brains, trying to imagine who Georgie could be. Over the last twenty five years I had taken many men's wives, girlfriends and daughters, but for the life of me the only George that I could recollect was the bartender, with whom I had no beef.

"He's clean," Nikki announced, as I expelled the last bag of solution from my bowels. "Let's lube him up."

They seemed to enjoy this part of the process, taking turns inserting their fingers deep inside my increasingly stretched rectum, as they coated it with a liberal amount of Anal-Ease lubricating jelly.

"One final touch and then we can untie you," Nikki promised, as she brandished an ominous looking cock-ring.

The black ring was made of stretch latex, and was extremely tight and restrictive as Nikki secured it around the base of my nuts. Once it was in place, she waved the remote in my face.

"I am going to give you one, short, electric shock," she warned me. "Just so that you understand that it will be futile to try and escape once we untie your hands."

Before I could even respond, Nikki pressed the remote and released her finger immediately. My legs buckled first, as the electrical charge entered my body through my testicles, leaving me hanging from the hot water pipe by my wrists. It felt like a simultaneous kick in the nuts and a punch in the solar plexus, as I struggled to stand and breathe. Over in just a few milliseconds, the initial blast gave way to a prolonged throbbing pain in my balls, as my body reacted to the shock. Nikki and Joelle looked on intently as I contorted my face into a grimace, and tried to process the pain.

"Are we on the same page?" Joelle asked sweetly. "Or shall I have Nikki zap you again?"

I still hadn't caught my breath, and so I nodded my head furiously to affirm that I was one hundred percent on their program, as the girls smiled at each other.

"Good boy," Nikki said, condescendingly. "A fast learner. We like that."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they released me from the overhead pipe, and as I struggled to keep my footing, they untied my hands. I was limping pretty badly from the persistent pain in my balls, and they led me down the corridor to a room that was unoccupied. Once inside, they helped me into a pink silk camisole and matching silk boy-shorts, before they bent me over the desk, securing my hands in such a way that I was completely helpless.

"Georgie will be with you soon," Joelle said, as she spritzed me with a generous spray of perfume. "Don't go anywhere."