The Entrapped

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The Entrapped Page 7

by Chris Bellows


  I decide to walk the many blocks to the Waldorf Astoria. With my piercings healed, Miss Lalique stopped by to offer magnificent earrings. I think they are real diamonds and at some point I will have such appraised. I am gratified to note that the baubles ostentatiously dangle below my styled hair, announcing to all that this ‘little girl’ is old enough to don expensive jewelry.

  Miss Lalique also offered the written instructions under which I will meet my benefactress, she who saved my life. I am both apprehensive and excited.

  ‘Calm yourself, Renee. She will have some duties for you. Simple repayment for all she has offered.’ Miss Lalique advised.

  Strolling Central Park South I gaze at the greenery, reflecting on the past Saturday to distract from the giddiness of my anticipation. Wearing the sheer white blouse, I quickly noted one could see through it when the sun shone at certain angles. The short flippy skirt proved to be a challenge... a fun challenge... my hands constantly pressing the front as the wind gusted to offer glimpses of my finely rounded cheeks.

  ‘Jail bait’, I kept conjuring the reaction of onlookers.

  Women clucked their tongues. Males surreptitiously gaped, but turning their heads away when I returned their looks. Having performed such a nasty deed the night before, the setting so revolting, the transvestite waitress so aggravating, it was good to be out in the fresh air.

  I was to later learn that the man reported to my counselor, apparently in detail. It seems my fellatio was more than adequate.

  ‘He’d like to meet you again,’ my counselor apprized. ‘I told him no. If he somehow finds you and gives you a hard time, contact me. He has a wife... quite vindictive and with the means to yank on his chain.’

  I thanked my counselor for the consideration, obeisantly ignoring the fact that it was by her command that the repulsive confrontation was arranged. Overall the encounter seemed to be not only a test of my skills but of my aptitude as well.

  ‘May I suck your penis, sir?’

  The words both haunt and excite...

  I am burgeoning with female hormones and as I have been counseled, with the paucity of testosterone, I must acclimate to confusion and conflicting thoughts... until my male brain adapts. I must obey, leaving it to women of authority to decide what is best. My counselor strongly suggested I meet the man... and I did... uttering those six fateful words... the catalyst for oral sodomy.

  So the Saturday park visit was indeed refreshing... and enlightening to know that I am found to be attractive. It’s a girl thing, I realize... and I no longer am confounded by such a reaction. It’s the hormones.

  And as opposed to the raunchiness of the Greenwich Village saloon, encounters in the park seemed natural... almost wholesome... the manner in which a girl should meet a man.

  So, when there came this one guy who didn’t sheepishly turn his head when I returned his admiring gaze. I let things happen... uttering again those six words. And on that occasion I thereafter felt good.

  Arriving at the Waldorf, I find the separate bank of elevators for the apartments. Amazingly plush digs, I think to myself. But expected of the woman who spent thousands to save me from cancer... and offer appropriate counseling... and a new life.

  To the twenty second floor, apartment 2207. I buzz. I am shocked when the door opens and I am greeted by a naked girl. Young, but with mature makeup, hair about my length, bejeweled, she smiles and curtsies.

  “Bring her into the parlor, April,” a female voice calls out, accented in Spanish.

  The breasts are limited ... and the nipples have been removed! Otherwise the form appears familiar, seeing the same each morning in the bathroom mirror. This suggests I look further down. And there the shock amplifies. Below the navel the tip of a small penis points to the ceiling, seemingly secured to this ‘April’s’ abdomen. Below that, loosely encircling the shaft is a sizable golden ring. A bell is attached.

  And that is all the maleness to be brandished. No testicles... not a hint of scrotal flesh. I recall the doctor’s term... April is a ‘smoothy’.

  April wordlessly gestures for me to follow then turns. His/her bell chimes as toes begin to prance, a cherub seeming to delight in his/her nakedness.

  I follow, led to an opulent sitting room. In an elegant stuffed chair sits the woman whom I presume saved me.

  “I am Ramona Cortez... Miss Ramona to you.”

  Into the room steps this incredibly masculine woman. Khaki pants with matching blouse of coarse brown material. Boots complete the military ensemble. I note the sizable knife at the left hip.

  “My guardia, Miss Maria Sanchez.”

  This ‘Miss Sanchez’ proves to have a sardonic smile. Her look seems to evidence that she knows of me... and finds my transformation to be amusing. Judging from her mode of dress and demeanor there is disdain for maleness. For the first time in many weeks standing before a woman in makeup, skirt and heels brings dejection, a sense of loss. The woman is imposing... strong... virile... a mien once expected of me. I mentally cower.

  “You’ve transformed well... nicely acclimatized.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ramona.”

  “I receive reports. Monitor your progress. It appears you’re worth every penny of my investment.”

  “Thank you,” my words offered as Miss Ramona extends her hand and Miss Maria steps forth to offer a folder.

  “Quite a talent... oral talent. I am always amazed at the propensity of the castrated male to offer fellatio... and with such care and skill.”

  Miss Ramona offers the folder to me without looking at it.

  “Your recent excursion through Central Park. Quite telling.”

  The index finger of her right hand twirls, suggesting that I open the folder and examine. I am stunned when I do!

  Photographs, high quality, amazing clarity, there is an image of me standing holding the front of my short skirt, the back fluttering in the breeze to expose my buttocks. Yes, that Saturday in the Park.

  “An interesting montage, don’t you think, Renee? I believe you’ll find interest in them all.”

  I flip. Whoever has manned the camera is quite talented, snapshot after snapshot of me playing the role of alluring ingénue, capturing my coy look as my admirers gawk. My apprehension grows in knowing of the culminating encounter, the man whose gaze would not be diverted. And sure enough, there comes the photo of him leading me by my hand into what I believed to be secluded bushes.

  “Yes, your transformation is quite successful... and complete. Such a naughty girl you are, Renee,” Miss Ramona clucking her tongue as Miss Maria snickers in delight.

  “Do you even know the man’s name?”

  I shake my head.

  “So you offered oral gratification to a complete stranger?”

  I nod.

  “It... it made me feel better after a bad experience,” alluding to the seedy Greenwich Village bar, my tone apologetic, my voice even meeker than usual.

  “Interesting.”

  The last photo is a tribute to the photographer’s skill... somehow managing to zoom in and obtain a close up of the side of my face in the stranger’s lap. With my head on an up thrust there glistens the wet pink of his penis shaft, the tip firmly engulfed in my mouth.

  “And that’s it? Just to feel better?”

  I nod.

  With that Miss Maria offers another folder. Within is my biggest fear. With the oral gratification completed, there is a snapshot of the man stuffing a twenty dollar bill under the waist line of my brief skirt.

  For some reason taking the money made me feel wanted... oddly needed... worth something. Made me feel more alluring and enticing in that someone not only looked but also chose to be with me... wanted to be with me.

  Yes, all male esteem obliterated indeed... and replaced by? By what?

  “Your employer would be quite enthralled to see these photos, young lady. I suspect your gender confusion is wearing on them and is endured only by the threat of your country’s discrimination law. But thi
s! Such felonious acts are not to be tolerated by an employer.”

  I silently nod in agreement. My employment is doomed... and I am unhireable elsewhere unless I legally change my name.

  “So once again it seems as your benefactress I must come to your rescue. Take off your blouse and skirt, Renee. I want more pictures. In heels and pink panties. And be cheery. If you cooperate no one will see these. In the end I’ll let you have them... to be destroyed... perhaps to be cherished mementoes. Cooperate and such are yours.”

  I disrobe. Pink panties... heels.

  “Go with Maria. I want a display of happiness in these shots, Renee. No hint of coercion.”

  “Yes. Ma’am.”

  ***

  Miss Maria leads me to a vast bedroom. A large dog springs from a position of rest, bounding toward me growling.

  “Easy Baldur,” Miss Maria softly commands.

  The dog immediately calms.

  “When with Baldur just remember he is in charge. A prize winning Norwegian Elk Hound, very well trained, very obedient to me and Miss Ramona... but very, very vicious.”

  I nod, noting that on hind legs the powerful beast is probably taller than me. I also note a vast cage. It rests on the floor opposite the oversized bed.

  Three foot high vertical bars of polished steel, some eight feet long and wide, within the bars is a lining of metal mesh, preventing the smallest of objects from entering or exiting the interior. There is a large door where Baldur enters and exits. Within the door is a smaller opening, a hatch, presumably to offer food and water.

  April follows us into the room with a camera.

  “Ok, Renee, into the cage. You heard the instructions, Ramona wants a certain look. Happy yet yearning.”

  Maria opens the cage door as she speaks. It is then that I realize the cage is not for Baldur. But his presence offers cover for having such a large item of restraint installed in the swanky Waldorf.

  I crawl in and Maria locks the door. I note a steel cable with an open lock at the looped end. Further restraint for the cage’s occupant.

  A smiling April steps forth and begins clicking from a distance. I display a modest smile... a little girl trying to cheer herself at a relative’s funeral.

  “Good. April make sure the earrings show.”

  In response I wriggle my head to assure the lengthy pendants freely dangle. More clicks. Then Maria opens the hatch. April steps closer and pushes the lens to the opening, offering a clear view... no mesh to disrupt the image.

  “Get the nipples. She must appear prepubescent.”

  I kneel back, better modeling my near nakedness... heels and pink panties. Click. Click. Then for some reason I turn a bit to offer a profile of my girlish cheeks. And all with the forlorn smile... that ‘someone please save me from distress look’.

  The advantage of digital photography manifests as I move about offering a variety of poses, modifying my wan smile as April snaps away. Finally, with dozens of poses and angles, Maria calls for a halt.

  The cage door is unlocked, Maria beckons. I crawl out.

  “Remove your panties. I want you naked.”

  Not only accustomed to presenting my nudity to a fully clothed woman of authority... but still finding thrill, I slide off the brief pink satin. But for heels, I am as naked as April.

  “Spread your feet and bend.”

  My hands go to my head and I assume the position. I feel April’s fingers rummage about my locked penis. Maria hands him/her something and I hear another click. For the first time in weeks, the small ringed appendage is free! She has the key!

  “Ok, stand and face me.”

  Righting myself I revel in the sensation of no longer sensing the constant tugging of my penis.

  “Stay.”

  Maria’s right hand palms my penis. April’s camera work resumes. Snapping from afar to capture my full 5 foot 2 frame, then stepping closer and clicking... then closer... and finally a snapshot taken of just my penis and the brown hand of Maria palming it.

  The intensity of the humiliation begins to take its toll. I well up; tears forming in disobedience to Miss Ramona... her orders were to exhibit happiness.

  “Such a girly girl,” Maria offers in rebuke.

  The session over, Maria gives the command to bend; April stoops to return the tip of my penis to its guiche piercing. In doing so I feel the quick swish of a warm wet tongue. The instance of pleasure brings a brisance of joy as I hear April mischievously giggle.

  “Enough,” Maria admonishes as I hear the tiny penis lock click closed.

  “Get dressed; Baldur will escort you to Miss Cortez.”

  The duo leave me alone with the threatening beast. I slowly and carefully dress, cautious not to make any sudden moves. When completed, Baldur utters a muffled ‘woof’ and I know to step back to the parlor.

  There, Miss Ramona and Miss Maria sit before a computer, reviewing the many photos of the ‘captive’ and caged Renee.

  “Good girl, Renee. We will be summoning you to return here within a few days. No matter the time of the day you will come at once. Tell your employer you’re sick... someone died... you forgot about a doctor’s appointment... whatever the lie... just get here.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “April, go to your cage. Maria and I are going out for dinner.”

  ***

  Waldorf Apartment

  New York, New York

  “How is it you have his email address?”

  Ramona Cortez smiles knowingly.

  “You should know by now I have many sources. Same source that informed of his peccadillo... the proclivity for young girls... and the degradation thereof.”

  Maria watches over Ramona’s shoulder as she types and attaches a sampling of the photos of Renee.

  “Just enough flesh to intrigue... but not enough to fully arouse. For that he’ll need to pay.”

  “Your girl bait proved to be quite photogenic, actually seeming to enjoy modeling... to a certain extent,” Maria notes.

  “The hormones... the counseling... an instilled need to obey and please. Find the right male, excise his balls, deluge with estrogen, and immerse in femininity... a formula that works every time.”

  Ramona clicks ‘send’ and turns to her guardia lover.

  “What do you figure the investment to date?” Maria inquires.

  “Well, I got a little carried away with the earrings. But to extract a goodly initial payment, Renee has to look like she’s worth it... an expensive little slave girl. So far we’re in for about $110,000, not including the cost of travel. Lots of clothing... lots of counseling.”

  Maria nods, never doubting her mentor’s judgment, instead curious to understand the risks and rewards.

  “What will he pay?”

  “I will try to recoup the cost of the earrings with the initial visit... $10,000. After that? Think we’ll go for one million.”

  Ramona turns off the computer and stands extending her arms. Maria knows to step forth, accept an embrace and expect the light squeeze of her muscled buttocks. Having had a sumptuous dinner, Maria knows the wine both relaxes and brings a need. It is when she takes charge.

  “April fed?”

  Maria nods, as the squeeze comes. In response, she takes Ramona’s hand.

  “Caged and cabled,” she advises leading her lover to the bedroom.

  A naked April lays in the mesh cage... a steel cable locked to his/her penis ring. The restraint is unnecessary, the cage ineluctable. But Ramona Cortez needs to send her message, insisting that things male, or once male, firmly grasp her proclivity for control... complete control.

  April will only prance about freely when serving otherwise he/she is to be totally restrained.

  The naked Hermaphrodite, long ago robbed of all ability for sexual pleasure, will watch as the daughters of Lesbos couple, Mr. Feeldoe plunging to bring friction and ecstatic heat.

  Nipples excised, scrotum trimmed, prostate removed, April’s only joy...the sutured unusab
le penis tip.

  He/she is never to feel pleasure... only offer such to others.

  Ramona Cortez looks to the cage and smiles at the look of yearning, sensing the frustration. She knows April would like to lick... to serve... to knead and caress feminine flesh and vicariously feel what is no longer possible for he/she to feel.

  He/she will not... not tonight.

  ***

  “A quick reply from Escobar,” Ramona calls out, reading from the computer screen, as April gently prances on toes to serve morning coffee, the penis bell chiming.

  ‘Who are you, where are you, and what do you seek?’ the brief email reads.

  “Came through at 3:00 a.m.,” Ramona notes as she types a reply.

  ‘I am the girl’s owner. Currently in New York. The girl needs to be put under a man’s penis. She’s been naughty, spending too much money on jewelry and therefore caged. I told her she’ll only be released when she can repay me,’ Ramona types and clicks ‘send’, knowing that the provocative term ‘owner’ will bring a frothy need to continue communication.

  The bait has been taken. Can the hook be set?

  “Better make sure the recording equipment is working, Maria. Escobar is not known to dawdle.”

  Ramona turns in the swivel chair, parts her thighs, and snaps her fingers and points. An eager April goes to his/her knees, dainty hands pushing aside the folds of Ramona’s silk robe.

  ***

  Returning from lunch and a shopping spree, Ramona checks her email as Maria steps to the bedroom where Baldur guards a caged and cabled April.

  “There’s another email,” Ramona announces clicking on the ‘in box’ to read aloud.

  ‘I will purchase the diamond earrings and present to the girl as a gift... if she can favor me. I agree she needs to be put under the penis. A skull fuck to start.’

  “Well, that’s our ruthless drug dealer... not even asking the price. He’s taken the hook,” a mirthful Ramona notes in typing a reply.

  ‘Waldorf apartments... number 2207. Tonight at 7:00 p.m. Bring $10,000. Bring your penis. Otherwise come alone.’

  “Call Renee. I want her here tonight at 6:00 p.m.”

  ***

  New York, New York

 

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