The Entrapped

by Chris Bellows

Renee/Robert Warren

  I don’t get many calls at work. I am thus startled when the phone rings, finally answering on the third ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Your benefactress wants you here at 6:00 p.m. sharp. You know the address,” the accented voice evidencing the source of the call.

  “But I’ll need to go home first and tidy up...”

  “You have your orders. Make sure you’re wearing your earrings. 6:00 p.m.”

  An abrupt click and the call ends.

  I will need to leave work early. Besides assuring hair and makeup are in order, I must pick up the diamond pendants. I dare not wear such to work.

  I look at the ancient clock to which every clerk glances during the boredom of paper shuffling. It is 2:30 p.m. I arise and head for Mr. Thompson’s office, conjuring as to the reason for another early departure.

  My heels click away on the linoleum, the resounding tapping drawing many eyes. With my birth gender known to all, I do not attain the looks of envy from women and the looks of guilty lust from men as I do when walking the streets and sauntering in the park. Instead there is disgust, some sympathy, some pity.

  As I approach the desk of Mr. Thompson’s secretary, I think of being caged and photographed without a word of explanation... think of being fully stripped, my tiny manhood freed to be photographed in the palm of a domineering woman.

  What is this about?

  “I’m going to have to leave in an hour, an early appointment with my counselor,” informing the secretary and selecting the fabrication which will receive the least resistance.

  No one would want this gender confused employee to miss a counseling appointment... seen as perhaps an opportunity to return to normality.

  The secretary nods, knowing that I have just about carte blanche since my transformation. Too many laws... too many lawyers... management fears a very untidy discrimination suit.

  Just after 3:30 I leave work to begin the walk to my apartment, much more sanguine in noting that the looks received on the streets of Manhattan are of desire and envy.

  Arriving home, I spruce up. With no orders as to attire, I change to something more informal but fashionable. The ‘fuck me heels’ made an impression and I don those. Otherwise I freshen my makeup, deluge myself with perfume, find the flashy diamond pendants and head for the Waldorf.

  My timing is reasonably good, arriving at the Waldorf at 5:45 p.m. I decide to buzz apartment 2207 a little early rather than lurk about in the lobby, drawing attention in a place where I otherwise don’t want to draw attention.

  A naked April opens the door, silent as always. He/she either cannot talk or is forbidden to do so. I know to follow him/her, listening as the penis bell announces his/her presence, clamoring away with all motion.

  Into the large bedroom, Miss Ramona and Miss Maria are confabulating.

  “Such a prompt young lady you are, Renee,” Miss Ramona compliments.

  “Take off your clothes, stay in your panties and heels. Just as the other night.”

  I strip and when Maria opens the cage door I for some reason fall to my knees and crawl within, no command necessary. She closes and locks the door.

  “Now let’s review some rules. You’re going to have a visitor. He, as most others, will think you are a girl... born as a girl. Do not dissuade him of that. He will be gruff. He will insult. But keep in mind he cannot harm you. Note the steel mesh. He’ll not even be able to touch you should you stay at the far side of the cage. His only access will be through the feeding hatch... and only able to insert a... well let’s leave it as a hand for now. So though he may engender fear, there will be no ability to inflict injury.”

  As Miss Ramona speaks, Miss Maria demonstrates by pushing her arm through the limited hatch, designed for water and food bowls. As I cower in the far side of the cage, her extended arm comes nowhere near touching me.

  “I will do all the talking. But when it comes time, you will obey my orders to the utmost. You so much enjoyed your visit to the park a few days ago. I think you will somewhat enjoy this visit as well. When I beckon you to approach, I want to hear those six sordid words... and that’s all.”

  I listen intently. I am not to ask questions, assuming that all will be unveiled in time.

  “Maria, check the cameras and the recorder one more time. Then cable April in the kitchen.”

  Maria departs, April follows.

  “Baldur will be with us. Maria will be nearby. There is nothing we cannot handle. Just be obedient.”

  ***

  Waldorf Apartment

  New York, New York

  Promptly at 7:00 p.m. the buzzer of apartment 2207 sounds. Ramona Cortez smiles, the male sex drive so charmingly predictable.

  Maria steps to the door, hunting knife at the left hip, fingers eager to slice with the slightest sign of truculence.

  She silently opens the door and gestures for entry. Into the foyer steps the most vicious drug lord of all the cartels in South American. Powerful, ruthless, wealthy, known to carve out the eyeballs of traitors with a hot spoon, never known to refrain from the overuse of violence... but also known... by his closest associates... to have one weakness... young girls.

  Miss Ramona sits... as if on a throne. When Escobar enters the parlor, Maria signals him to submit to a pat down. He does, arms extending out from his sides.

  “I am not carrying...” the first words uttered.

  “Smart, Mr. Escobar. New York has tough gun laws.”

  Maria nods her approval, no weapons found.

  “I’m on a little vacation. No business transacted. No weapon needed.”

  “And what man would not like a little pleasure during his vacation.”

  “Exactly,” Escobar proclaims drawing a stuffed envelope from his pocket. “And it gives me great pleasure to buy a nice girl some jewelry. I hate to see animals caged. So you can imagine my reaction to your intriguing photos,” the tone sardonic.

  Ramona extends her hand. The envelope is drawn back from within her grasp.

  “The girl?” Escobar politely insists.

  “Caged, of course. And I think she’d enjoy having a visitor.”

  Ramona arises to lead to the bedroom. Maria quietly slips away to the adjoining room where resides the control panel, monitors and a recorder for the many hidden cameras and microphones.

  “Don’t mind Baldur,” Ramona forewarns. “He’ll not viciously attack and maim unless commanded... or someone makes an aggressive move.”

  Escobar is taken aback by the size and apparent strength of the Elk Hound.

  “This is Renee, my naughty little shopper.”

  Escobar looks into the far end of the cage where the half naked Renee kneels in fear. Ramona looks into the face of Escobar as he assesses, his eyes gleaming, licking his lips as apparently the sight of prepubescent nakedness brings salivation.

  “For the earrings, I will be thanked... for my gift?”

  “I think Renee will be very grateful to be released from her cage at some point.”

  Escobar hands over the envelope.

  “I’ll want her naked.”

  “Not part of the deal.”

  “How will I be thanked?”

  “I think Renee would like to know how a big strong man tastes... isn’t that right, Renee?”

  A quaking Renee knows to nod. He/she also notices the look of overpowering lust. It frightens.

  “I want her out of the cage.”

  “No. The key seems to be lost for now. And I’ll not bother looking for it for a mere $10,000. It’s not worth my time.”

  “So how shall she express her gratitude?”

  Ramona lowers her hand and pushes open the feeding hatch. With its height conveniently at the level of Escobar’s zipper, no more words need to be exchanged. Escobar smiles wickedly and wriggles his finger... come hither. Ramona nods her approval to Renee then steps away as Escobar unzips. Though watching a man degrade himself, being fellated in such a tawdry and desperate manner
, may have amusing elements, the sight of the virile male appendage tends to sicken.

  “Come here and thank Mr. Escobar, Renee. You’ll not have to return the diamond earrings after all. They are now yours to keep.”

  Renee visually shudders but knows to crawl forth. ‘Obey,’ she tells herself... ‘enjoy the taste’.

  “May I suck your penis, Sir,” the voice quaking with the six sordid words.

  ***

  New York, New York

  Renee/Robert Warren

  I feel violated. Well... I was violated!

  This Escobar miscreant became forceful. I tried to give him a pleasant and calming blow job, as in the park, but he reached into the cage with his right hand, thankfully not able to fit both through the hatch, grasped the hair at the back of my head and announced I was to be ‘skull fucked’

  ‘No biting,’ Miss Ramona proclaimed, inaugurating another rule as the turgid manhood plunged well down my throat. I choked... violently... and Escobar laughed, holding my head and thrusting forcefully with his hips. He’s well hung, able to stand outside the cage and still penetrate well into my mouth and throat. I gasped for breath. He commanded me to suck... ‘lick, you little whore’.

  Some words were in Spanish, not known to me.

  Tears formed with the pain... the frustration... the degradation. Miss Ramona looked on, as I gagged her pleasant smile transforming to one of evil.

  Was it watching my humiliation... or the feel of an envelope stuffed with bills?

  In... out... in... out... finally exploding well into my gullet, Escobar grunted in satiation then pushed my head away toward the back of the cage.

  ‘She’s a natural and her tongue work is good. A little tight about the tonsils, but in time, used often enough, she’ll more readily be opened.’

  Zipping himself, Ramona led the man from the room. I could not hear any further conversation as I sat in tears, my throat too sore to even break the rules and speak.

  I was not released until much later in the evening, my benefactress assuring that Escobar had left and was far from the premises.

  I could not believe a wealthy woman would sell me to such a ruffian for a mere $10,000! She had certainly spent more than that in medical expenses, counseling and hormone treatment.

  ***

  Waldorf Apartment

  New York, New York

  Ramona and Maria review the tapes. High definition, three different angles, the clarity of sound remarkable as the world’s most ruthless drug lord becomes ruthless indeed, forcing himself on what he believes to be a prepubescent girl.

  Scruples? None. Moral outrage should his peers and cohorts learn of the oral ‘rape’? Very little. Criminals do criminal things and expect as much from each other.

  But homosexual activity in the macho Hispanic culture of the drug cartels?

  Verboten!

  The women enjoy immensely. Maria inquires about the next step.

  “The hook is set, now how do we reel him in?”

  “He wants more, of course. The mesh barrier of the cage offered just enough contact, yet just enough frustration so that he wants to return. He’ll want to feel more of Renee than the back of her head and the warm wetness of her mouth. Impressed with Renee’s relative oral prowess, Escobar wants to open her anally. Says he’ll split her backside and cover the cost of any resulting medical needs.”

  “Such a gentleman,” Maria quips.

  “And that’s why this profession is so enjoyable... pilfering funds from those who deserve to be pilfered.”

  “What’s his offer?”

  “$50,000. Complete nakedness. Complete access. No audience.”

  “Renee will be injured. She’s not been opened there at all.”

  “And she’ll not be. We’ll take the $50,000 and send Escobar on his way with copies of our photo collection. More cash to come of course after he contemplates his unenviable position.”

  Maria nods. The boss is certainly the boss for good reason.

  “Do have some sharp instruments ready, Maria. And do keep Baldur nearby. Escobar is certain to become irrational and violent when the full nature of our trap dawns.”

  ***

  New York, New York

  Renee/Robert Warren

  I Google the name ‘Escobar’. I am horrified to read of the accusations, the general acknowledgment that he is the most powerful purveyor of drugs in the world. The rumors are frightening... so many killed... so many disappeared... and the stories of mayhem inflicted on alleged traitors and informants bring one to shudder.

  And I fellated him! Though perhaps not the proper term. The words ‘skull fuck’ are indeed apropos, using my mouth and throat as a receptacle for gobs of spunk.

  I quiver again just thinking about it.

  My cell phone rings. When I answer it is Miss Maria. Though I never gave her the number, information about me seems easy to attain.

  “2:00 p.m. Your new friend wants a matinee before leaving the country. Come in heels. Wear the earrings.”

  No wait for a reply, the call ends. Since it is Saturday, the rendezvous is easy to comply with, just prink, preen and walk across town. No question that I can be there... yet dare I be there?

  Thoughts of the cage, the mesh protecting me from all but gunshot, bring some semblance of comfort. Baldur will presumably be present also along with the divinely vigorous Miss Maria nearby. So as I shower... hands smoothing over my hairless form, lowering to toy with that portion of my scrotum remaining accessible, tweaking my nipples to spur a sigh of delight... I calm myself. The power of drug lord Escobar will be mitigated by equally powerful women. At least in the Waldorf apartment, I convince myself.

  In knowing they will protect me there comes a bizarre sense of gratitude... like being dangled out the window of a twenty story building then thanking the person holding my ankles for reeling me back to safety.

  Knowing how I will be presented, I do not expend much time selecting clothing. I will need little for the task. But heels, yes. There is something tawdry about a naked girl... near naked girl... in heels. Silk panties... pink of course... and makeup to the hilt... appearing as effeminate as possible.

  The subterfuge of being presented as a girl... a young girl... seems key to whatever the goals are. I do not want to disappoint.

  Walking across town, there come thoughts of my world, my new world. Where is all this taking me? Without friends, not able to present myself to my limited family, will all social contact and diversion come by way of seducing strangers in the park?

  Yet in feeling sorry for myself, I think of April. I can impel some level of physical joy... as I did while showering... my scrotum newly sensitized as are my puffy nipples. But April? Miss Ramona denies him/her just about all, the one remaining erogenous zone cruelly sutured to his/her tummy.

  How does he/she even urinate?

  Arriving early again, I move to the elevator wary of some glances from an officious looking character who is most assuredly a member of the Waldorf security staff. He appears somewhat relieved when I do not attempt to enter the hotel segment of the structure. A prepubescent girl in makeup and heels certainly turns heads. But what occurs in the privately owned apartments is beyond his purview and concern.

  I ascend to the 22nd floor. April wordlessly opens the apartment door. I follow within listening to the penis bell. Miss Ramona is in the sitting room, seemingly comforted in hearing her servant move about.

  Every step sounds of his/her subjugation.

  “Strip. Remain in heels, then bend.”

  I obey. Once again something is handed to April and the dainty fingers rummage about to unlock my penis. It feels good to have it freed.

  “As I am sure you have surmised, your new friend Pablo Escobar wants to meet again. He will once again bring money and a load of sperm. This time he’ll leave only the money behind. You’ll be locked in the cage. Safe. Do nothing unless commanded. Things will get a little intemperate. Stay away from the hatch and you’ll not
be harmed.”

  She summons me to approach and I step forth folding my hands on my head. An arm reaches, the hand turning upward to palm what remains of my maleness... all three inches. Miss Ramona inspects and snickers.

  “For now don’t play. But if you can get this little thing hard for our Mr. Escobar it would greatly add to the fun and games.”

  I shake my head, the only stiffness experienced since my castration coming as a result of nocturnal penile tumescence and that was well before the deluge of estrogen.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Well perhaps you should consider a more permanent modification to keep your thoughts off becoming turgid... as with April here,” Miss Ramona taunts.

  I shake my head... forcefully... to convey my disinterest.

  “Ok, to the cage. Knowing the level of eagerness, Escobar is sure to be on time... perhaps early. And if Escobar enters, I want you to speak... the six sordid words you uttered on that first date you had. Otherwise you are to remain silent.”

  April leads me to the bedroom. Baldur greets with a ‘woof’ as I know to step to the cage, go to all fours and crawl within. As April snaps closed the lock, I continue to seek comfort, examining the lock ... the large lump of high carbon steel and thick loop which holds me captive... and also keeps me isolated from the most vicious purveyor of drugs in the world.

  Naked but for heels, I am beginning to understand the game. The subterfuge of my gender will temporarily end... my vestigial maleness... my penis... to be displayed.

  April departs, presumably not to be part of the ‘fun and games’. So I just lie back and wait, the irony of being caged while Baldur is free to roam occupying my thoughts.

  ***

  Waldorf Apartment

  New York, New York

  “Maria, you’ll need to stay with us in the room. Leave the video system on in case things get completely out of hand, but it need not be monitored. When he offers the money, take it, stash it to prevent a grab and run. He may get a little irrational.”

  The soldier in Maria listens intently and calmly. She has spent the morning honing her knife, imagining and mentally role playing. Pablo Escobar is not to be harmed unless absolutely necessary, that she understands. He is about to become an ATM... to gush cash... not blood.