Turned Out Nice Again - Pt. 01

Bill says: "About fucking time. Make it snappier next time cunt."

I'm not prim, well I don't think I am, but I've never been spoken to like that before. It sends a shock and a rush through me, and hurt feelings, then I feel a stirring in my loins and adrenaline or something, but of course I don't dare to protest. Yes, being called cunt sure did make my heart flutter. I can't help it.

Vic tells Bill not to frighten the filly too much. Yet.

I sit down and look up to see Vic staring straight into my eyes. "What are you up to, cunt? Stand up, take out your wallet and give me a hundred bucks."

What's this? A shakedown? But I do have limits after all it seems. I don't even stand up. I really don't like conflict, but I manage to tell him that I will not give him any money. I try to pass it off as a joke.

Vic laughs and tells me that he's glad I said that. It makes him realise that I won't just say yes to anything and everything. That would be too boring and would also mean that I was not being honest. The question was just a test apparently. Well, I will try to believe him for now.

"Now we'll try something else. Nothing special, just a general submission test. There's so much that is just empty, pub talk and we need to know what's real. It's simple enough. When I tell you to, you are to sit there on the sofa, hands on knees and not move at all until I say so, to see how you do. Sound good? So, let's see if I have a persuasive voice."

He glares at me and says: "Look at me!", so I look up and when he says "stand" I do that too.

"Sit! Stay!"

I do as I'm told. This is so strange, but I suppose there is no harm in it. The task sounds dull, but I feel a bit like I am the centre of attention and I find my heart rate increasing. It is also more difficult than it sounds. I can't scratch or drink or fidget or relax and after about ten minutes, I start to feel that I want a piss, but I am determined to achieve my task. I glance at them often and generally they ignore me, but I do notice that Vic is checking on me periodically.

After about fifteen minutes he tells me that I am allowed to move. I must say that I feel ridiculously pleased to have achieved my task, despite it being silly and trivial. I am slightly invigorated and stand up and start to walk towards the loo.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Um, ah, I need to take a leak." I say with rising intonation.

He sternly tells me that my needs are of no importance.

"Well, you are just going to have to wait a bit longer. Sit down. Now, let's see again whether I have a persuasive voice."

This isn't fair! That's what I think, but he must have a persuasive voice because I say nothing and sit down again with a petulant expression on my face.

He smirks. "Good submissive sissy."

What? Well, I suppose he has a point. I do not dissent.

Bill pipes up too, sarcastically. "Yeah, good sissy, cunt."

I'm very conscious of my bladder's fullness now and soon start to wriggle, but when I look in his direction pleadingly, Vic simply laughs at me. I look to Bill too, but he ignores me completely. Rocking backwards and forwards helps a little as does squeezing my thighs. Some movement seems to be allowed now at least. I'm sure most people have experienced a desperate need to urinate, but I hadn't had it this intensely for a long time. I am becoming quite distressed and almost feel like I am having some form of mild mental breakdown.

Eventually I am allowed to go and relieve myself and I am extremely grateful and tell Vic so. In fact, I'm quite surprised at just how easily I do take instruction.

"You're doing fairly well, cunt. See what you can do if you just put your mind to it? You shouldn't have doubted me. Now, your next test is almost the same, but with your wrists and ankles tied as you sit there."

I look at Vic wide-eyed, but also feel a huge thrill from his words.

"Don't worry, pet. There's no danger, in case that's what you are thinking. After all, your wife knows where you are. She'll see you safe and sound later."

I laugh nervously. I suppose it really is unlikely they will actually harm me and I guess that I am enjoying the blandishments, so I tell him as casually and lightly as I can that he must have a very persuasive tone or something as I will give it a go. This time. Just for him.

"Good sissy. Yes, never forget that I have a very persuasive voice. Bring me that bag."

Hmm. He's certainly come prepared. From it, he extracts lengths of soft rope.

"OK Cunt. Hold your arms out in front of you."

My now trembling wrists are bound in front of me and then my ankles are tied together. He seems to know what he is doing. The feel of being tied and the rope digging into my flesh causes a twitch in my crotch. Once he is finished I could in theory hop about unsteadily or maybe roll around, but basically, I am now at their mercy. They also know that they can both call me a sissy cunt with impunity. I reflect that I haven't objected. Another precedent has been set.

"You can struggle if you like, so in some ways this is easier than just having to sit still, unbound. Maybe you should think about that. Both methods have their advantages, but for now you can humour me. Try your best to escape, show me how tightly bound you are. Well, go on, what are you waiting for?"

As I test the ropes, I appreciate the extent of my powerlessness. There's no way I could escape, but I try hopelessly for a while, just to please him, before managing to sit down, just as trussed and much more breathless and red-faced. It is really quite tiring and weird and frightening. I'm getting quite good at humouring him. A trickle of sweat runs down my face.

I can barely hear it, but Bill remarks to Vic that we both seem to be enjoying this and that I am, just as promised, genuinely submissive. He then asks for payment.

Wait! So, I have just been harvested for Vic's use? Prepped. Is that what this is? I feel genuine fear, but dare not act.

"Not so fast Bill. Don't push it. Yes, she is submissive to some extent, but she hasn't demonstrated anywhere near enough yet for er, your compensation. It'll take time. It's a good sign that she recognises her name though. Isn't it, Cunt?"

Bill sulkily stops his pleading.

I am very torn. Vic is being nasty to me and sinister, but for whatever reason, I get excited by it, though with an undercurrent of fear and queasiness. I start to prepare the words that object to being called Cunt, but without conviction. The words are never spoken. I say "yes" and nod meekly instead.

"That's a good Cunt."

Vic speaks further but never to me and for most of the time I can't even hear what they are saying. It looks like I don't matter to them at all. I feel a slight chill and a matching thrill as I test my limbs again. Yep, still no escape. After twenty more minutes I am finally allowed to be untied and then to piss. I stagger shakily to the bathroom to relieve myself, but am made to walk like a girl again before I can finally piss.

After the game Vic has the same need, but neglects to close the bathroom door. The heavy sound of a thick stream of piss hitting the water echoes down the hallway. I can't help but look in that direction and inevitably Bill notices my glances and smiles. I redden. Of course I do. I guess it's the subconscious defeating the conscious again.

Not much more is said and as I depart, I am told that I will be expected back here next week for my next lesson. I quietly assent, feeling little agency and as I leave, Vic tells me to bend over so that I have something to remember him by. He then spanks me very hard on my behind five times. I allow him to do it.

"Good sissy!'

I am startled and dazed but say nothing and walk home with my cheeks still stinging. When I sit down next to my wife, I have to be careful not to grimace due to the tenderness. It also reminds me just how far Vic is likely to go with me. That idea haunts me during the days before my next appointment.

My wife asks me whether I enjoyed my boys' night out, giving me another chance to opt out. I ponder, but then tell her as lightly and nonchalantly as I can that it went passably well and that I have even been asked over again next week. In some small way I hope that she will say that she would rather I stayed home with her, but when she again tells me that it'll be good for me to socialise a bit, my heart beats faster. And I'm trembling a little. I remind myself that I must breathe steadily. Must calm down. It looks like I will be going back to become Vic's prey.

During the week I think about my next visit often and find myself reading gay porn and gazing at hard cocks on the screen, wondering how they would feel. So, when Bill texts me to cancel my visit I am disappointed, but also slightly relieved. He gives no explanation. I don't know what I am expecting. He indicated that he wasn't interested in me and he didn't appeal to me for that matter either, but I must admit that it was quite exciting to be quizzed like that by them. Since he made no mention of another visit, I am again half surprised when, in the following week I am invited over again on Friday night. I mention it to my wife, but she is still keen to get rid of me. I am uncertain, briefly, then I text my consent, hands shaking uncontrollably. Oh my. I really am an addict. What have I done?