“No, I suppose that’s all fine.” I mumbled in total dismay.
What else could I say?
……………
His build and his charm made him ooze with charisma, disguising the evil within. But after an agonising internal debate, I decided to just let it slide. He’d said he was joking and hadn’t harmed Debbie, so I couldn’t point to what he’d done wrong. If he’d really done time and I called in the cops on just a lame vague perception, the repercussions were potentially awful. With no grounds and no proof, if I caused him aggravation, it could seriously and painfully backfire. After weighing up all the options, I decided it would be for the best if I turned a blind eye, and forget their whole conversation.
……………
Later that Wednesday evening there was a knock at the door.
“Kevin,” I exclaimed with hidden dismay, “To what do we owe this honour?” I asked as politely as I could, knowing Debbie was sitting in earshot.
“Have you got a few minutes, I’d like you to come around and have a look at something?”
“Well, I….”,
“Oh, come on. Just a few minutes,” he coaxed, as my wife walked up to my side.
Kevin continued. “I just want to borrow your hubby for a while. I want the party to go as planned, so I wondered if he could rehearse something for me. I promise I won’t tie him up for too long,” he said, as he stared down at me full in the eye.
“Of course,” Debbie cheerfully chipped in. “Tie him up as long as you like. My film is coming on TV, one that he hates, so he’d be skulking off to the garage if he wasn’t with you.”
“Thanks a lot, Debbie,” I said flatly, her revelation giving me no other option.
……
So I found myself inside Kevin’s house for the first time since he’d moved in.
“Beer?” he asked.
“No thanks. What do you want Kevin?”
“Well it’s like this, Pinky. I don’t know what you had planned to wear at my party, but I have your attire here,” as he gestured to a big, long, flat box on the table.
“I’m not going to wear anything that makes me look like a fool,” I said as firmly as I could.
“Take a look,” he said, as he flipped the lid. It appeared to be a complete Little Bo Peep outfit, with a bell dress, jacket, bonnet, curly blonde wig and a wooden shepherds crook.
“I’m not…..”
“Put it on. I want to see.” It was more of a command than a request. I looked at him, pleading with my eyes not to make me do this.
“We have a deal for when you’ve been to my party……. so put it on”, his final words a growl as he took two steps towards me.
“Ok, ok,” I fatefully backed down. I started to remove my jacket.
“I’m not a pervert,” Kevin said, “ I don’t want to watch you strip, especially as you need to be buck naked to transform yourself into a true girly Bo Peep.”
He surprisingly he turned his back, and two minutes later I was totally naked, fishing from the box a pair of frilly, light- blue bloomers, the obvious first thing to put on. As I was bent over naked with one foot in the bloomers, Kevin abruptly spun around. I instinctively froze, but he urged, “Carry on, there’s lots to do. Your wife will be watching her movie for a couple of hours, sure, but it’s not like in college when we had the whole night.”
He stood and watched as I hurriedly pulled up the bloomers, then wriggle myself into the long, light blue, frilly bell dress. I put on the wig as best I could, then the jacket, and topped it off with the broad rim bonnet. I reached for the crooked stick, but Kevin said to leave it alone. I couldn’t help but notice there were little straps with buckles and hooks all around the bottom of the dress but although it looked strange, I didn’t consider what they were for.
“The belt needs to be much tighter,” he said, as his hands went to work, shortening it a couple of notches, squeezing it tight into my stomach. “Take off the bonnet and jacket, I want to try something,” he ordered. “Now, strike a pose with your arms in the air. Clasp your hands together at the back of your neck, and make sure you tightly entwine your fingers”
When I’d done just that, he reached down and started to gather up the hem of the dress and lift it high in the air, effectively blocking my view. The stirring of the dress continued, and I heard the repeated clicking and latching of buckles somewhere over the top of my head.
“What the….” I started to protest, as I realised the hem of the dress was being buckled together above my head, effectively encasing me in.
“Shut up and stand still,” Kevin barked, as I felt and heard yet more straps and buckles being pulled and clicked into place above my head. My hands were still behind my neck with fingers entwined, and with my elbows now almost touching and with the inner-sides of my wrists squashing into the sides of my neck, I was effectively locked immobile in place.
“It works,” Kevin declared. “Look, you’re in the prettiest strait jacket I’ve ever seen.”
But I couldn’t look. The upper half of my body was completely encased in upturned skirt, and I couldn’t see anything. Then I realised my lower half was only wearing frilly bloomers.
“Come for a walk,” Kevin said, as I felt him steer me several steps backwards, encased in a blinding bundle of dress. Then I felt a tugging upwards of the straps above my head. I was being hung up, suspended on some kind of master hook. I heard a ratchet clicking and felt myself being hoisted even more, until I was balanced high up on tip-toe.
“These won’t do,” Kevin said, as I felt his fingers find the waistband of the bloomers. The next thing I knew, my ankles were being lifted one at a time as he slid the bloomers completely off.
“Time for pink panties, don’t you think?” Kevin said in a mocking tone. “They should make you feel much more relaxed,” as I felt my ankles being lifted again. A familiar, cool silk smoothness was being slid up my thighs, and my cock gave an involuntary stir. When he’d pulled them up into place, I felt his fingers slide around to straighten the waistband. Then, as his hands smoothed me down to get a neat and snug fit, his palm started rubbing at my crotch.
“It feels nice, doesn’t it, having your weeny in smooth, soft, pink panties? But they are coming back off and going in your mouth later. I don’t want to hear you squealing like a pig when my cock is reclaiming your ass.”
“No, please don’t do this.” I breathed, almost in a whisper, so weak it was barely a protest. Oh why hadn’t I spoken out earlier? My words bore no authority now, emitting from inside a girly, frilly blue bell-dress. He had methodically ensnared me with hardly a whimper, and now his palm was stroking my crotch. I mumbled more words of pathetic lame protest to try stop his massaging palm, but with my erection now steadily building, instead of recoiling, I pushed back at the source of abuse. My hapless thrust forward encouraged him further, and his rubbing palm claimed me harder and faster. Kevin knew he was now in control as he tormented and teased with his words.
“You love this, don’t you, my pink pantied pansy. You loved it in college, and I bet you still do. Go on, grow hard for me, faggot, you know that you want to.”
I hated Kevin for doing this. But I hated my cock more for its selfish betrayal as it danced to his lecherous tune. And as much as I wanted my cock to stay soft and limp, it inexorably grew larger and longer.
“That’s it, sissy, swell that cock for me. I know you can’t stop yourself. Do you want me to give it a suck when it’s all nice and hard? Suck your cock before mine goes up into your ass. I’m going to breed you tonight, just like the old days, you fag, sissy bitch. That’s why I brought you, and that’s why you came. You knew I’d want to use you, and use you I will, like you’re an easy whore, faggot cum-dumpster.”
Despite his despicable words, I couldn’t withstand it, and my cock continued to grow. And with no way of hiding my telling display, I was irrevocably retaking my place. He was re-affirming his true alpha male status, with me as his pink pantied slave. This time around I had much more to lose, but still he was assuming command.
“You always were easy meat, and I can see you still are. You plainly enjoy being my little pink pansy. I’m going to use the crook on you later. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, fag whore? Opening your legs as it slides down inside the back your panties, willing it to hook into your ass. And when it does, I’ll clip it onto my trusty old winch so I can hoist you up, one click at a time, ‘till you can barely touch ground with your tip-toes. Then maybe I’ll give it a couple more clicks ‘till you’re dangling on the ass-hook like mealworm. I bet that’d enjoy that, eh, sissy bitch? You’ll be wriggling and squealing like a piglet.”
I don’t know why, but as he hissed his taunting, vile words, my cock kept relentlessly rising. My mind was in turmoil as I heard Kevin move and take a position behind me. His left arm came around in a firm bear-hug grip, locking my back to his chest. His right hand then mauled at my straining hard cock, which was shamefully tenting high in my panties.
“I’ve got you now bitch, haven’t I? This is how you‘re going to be at the party. Hamstrung and helpless and wearing pink panties as I make you fully aroused. I’m going to make a wager with that Debbie of yours that you love being humiliated and punished. And when I prove I’m right and this makes you horny, she’ll want a piece of you too. I know she’ll do it, ‘cos I’ll get her so high she won’t be able to resist. What do you think your stoned wife will do to you, Pinky, when I give her some toys to try out? Which one do you think she’ll use on you first? And when you squander your seed all over the carpet, what signal does that send, eh? She won’t want a wimp husband to make her pregnant. She’ll want a real man, and I’ll be there, ready and waiting. And when I’ve run her ragged, and she begs me to stop, don’t worry, I will. But there’ll still be the needs of my crew, and they will be next. Can you hear her pitiful pleas of anguish, Pinky, begging for her sex-nightmare to end? But I’m sure they’ll be able to extract a few more orgasms from her swollen, raw pussy as they all take their turn to rape her. Would you prefer to be blindfolded and just hear the action, or would you want to watch the whole show? She’ll be misused for hours but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, except for possibly near the end. But who cares if her last few orgasms are a mixture of both pleasure and raw pain. It’ll make for some fine entertainment.”
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