Author's Note: I don't normally write of women topping men, but felt the need to purge my system. Hope those who like this subject will enjoy. TMG


Darryl Jenkins wasn't so much a "Ladies' Man" as he was a "Ladies Sampler". He saw no harm in that. With reasonably good looks and a chiseled, 6'1" 195lb frame, he had little trouble finding himself a date for Friday nights (Or any other night, for that matter).

When he'd met Tiffany Chen, an attorney for a law office two floors above his office, he thought of her as little more than the next conquest. Standing 5'1", 103lb and drop-dead gorgeous, she was a constant topic of conversation around the water cooler. Darryl thought that given the opportunity, his shaft might very well split the petite Asian in two...and wouldn't mind trying.

However, her repeated snubs had worked up his ire, the rejections threatening his assertion that he was the one and only Alpha in the equation. And so he'd persisted; employing a tact that felt completely alien to him, charm. Still, the little chink bitch rebuffed him!

Then, out of the blue, Darryl had looked up to see her standing outside his tiny cubicle. Clearly, something was bothering her and Darryl thought she'd never looked cuter, standing there awkwardly, biting her lower lip. She looked unsure, vulnerable...needy, just the way he liked them.

"Hey, um, Darryl." She'd stammered, in that cute, Oxford-educated accent. "I've got kind of a problem and hoped maybe you could help."

"Yeah?" He said, drawing the word out so that he sounded noncommittal and not too eager to help.

"Well, er, the senior partners are throwing a big gala at the Bourse tomorrow night." She took a deep breath before continuing, her chest swelling provocatively as she did.

"The problem is, they're a little old fashioned and probably wouldn't appreciate me bringing my girlfriend."

"So she's a Carpet Muncher!" Darryl thought, fighting to keep his expression neutral. He even managed to furl his brow a bit, in an effort to display concern over the lawyer's unjust situation.

"I, uh, was wondering...maybe you could act as my date? There's going to be a lot of important clients there and I'd really like to make a good impression."

This couldn't be working out any better! Here's this gorgeous Asian babe he's been trying to bed, practically begging him to go on a date. He had to struggle to keep a predatory, shit-eating grin from splitting his face.

"Gee, I don't know." He said, drawing out her discomfort. "Tomorrow's my bowling night."

As he attempted to look torn with indecision, he had to continually remind himself to maintain eye contact. Tiffany had begun to shift unconsciously from foot to foot, causing her tight little ass to sway back and forth. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gary staring slack-jawed, from across the aisle.

As much as he would have loved to leave this stuck-up, but tasty little crumpet swinging in the breeze a while longer, he didn't want to risk her getting away.

"Oh heck," he said, "I can see how much this means to you. Sure, I can help you out. Maybe you can do me a favor sometime."

Her face brightened, missing the implications of that last statement.

"Brilliant!" She exclaimed. "Here's my address. If you can pop by about seven, I'll be ready."

She started to lurch forward, perhaps in order to give him a hug or peck on the cheek, but stopped, thinking better of such a demonstration. She spun on her heels, and sashayed toward the elevator. Gary leaned out of his cubicle to watch her leave. When her turned back, he saw Darryl leaning back in his chair, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Seven o'clock came and went. Darryl pulled up to the curb of the modest split-level at seven-twenty. He'd be damned if he let any woman dictate when and where he should be. Besides, unless she'd made other arrangements, Tiffany had no choice but dance to HIS tune. The apprehension on her face was replaced by relief, when she opened the door.

"Oh, I thought you'd perhaps had car trouble." She said, glancing at the Camaro parked at the curb.

Darryl didn't miss the veiled admonishment for being late. He masked his flash of irritation by presenting the bouquet of roses he'd picked up at a convenience store on the way over. Gay or straight, he knew the quickest way into a woman's panties was to shower them with gifts.

"Oh, they're lovely." She gushed. "There's wine in the ice bucket. Help yourself while I put these in water, and then we can be off."

Darryl watched her disappear, admiring how the burgundy sheath-dress clung to her body, her shimmering black hair swaying across her bare back. He felt "Mr. Jolly" shift in his slacks. He strode over to the couch, poured himself a healthy glass of wine and sat down.

The vino was pretty tasty, so he drained his glass and poured another, remembering to pour one for Tiffany as well. He was hoping that this shindig tonight had an open bar. Regardless, if he couldn't get her liquored up, he had a couple of tablets in his pocket that would help "get her in the mood". Either way, this night wasn't going to end without him getting a little "Far East Trim". Completely relaxed, he settled a little deeper into the cushions.

Darryl came to with a mild headache, his mouth and brain, full of fuzz. He was cold and he had aches in spots that normally didn't ache. His limbs didn't seem to want to move. With a tremendous effort, he opened his eyes and was rewarded with a searing white pain. He screwed his lids shut and tried to piece together what the hell was going on.

His arms refused to move. They seemed to be stuck behind him, held by rigid bands of fire. Something was digging painfully into his armpits, a pain that paled compared to other spots. The worst by far, was the one in his ass. It felt like he was trying to crap a tree stump.

He managed to pry his eyelids apart, only to be blinded by what seemed to be a dozen spotlights. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw that he was bathed in light, the darkness beyond cloaking his whereabouts. Barely able to control his lolling head, he glanced down at his body.

"HHGNNMMMMFFFFFF!!!!!" He screamed in shock.

First and obviously, he was gagged. A massive, hard rubber sphere filled his mouth to bursting. A thick rod pierced the ball horizontally, digging painfully into the corners of his mouth. A firm, constant pressure squeezed his cheeks and head, as a strap locked the monstrosity in place.

"HHNNNGTHHHH!!!" He called out in a mash of confusion, fear and outrage.

He quickly found out that his voice was 80% hushed and 100% unintelligible. When his query went unanswered, he could do little but examine his situation. It wasn't good. For one thing, he was naked. He was "seated" in the pool of light, on what looked like a cross between a minimalistic chair and playground jungle gym.

A collection of pipes and fittings, all painted matte black, made up the structure. It had no seat. Darryl realized that his rump was planted on a narrow cross-member, but that wasn't the shocking part. SOMETHING WAS SHOVED UP HIS ASS! Wriggling experimentally, he realized that the shaft was anchored to the cross piece.

Instinctively, he tried to lift himself up off the blatantly UN-masculine abomination. It's hard, slick girth, glided along the surface of his violated anus. He managed to rise perhaps 2" off the beast (much more of it still lodged inside him), when his hips struck a crosspiece. Desperate, he shoved against the barricade, but it quickly became clear that his muscle was no match against steel pipe.

With a groan that sounded uncharacteristically like a whine, he settled back down on his "perch". He noted that his legs were splayed wide, knees draped over the pipe. At that juncture, red rubber-coated wire lashed his knees to the pipe. The dozen or so neat coils hand been cinched brutally tight, indenting his lower thighs and causing the flesh to blush. He felt, more than saw, his ankles crossed and lashed beneath him with what seemed to be more of the same stiff cordage.

This then, explained the aching immobility of his arms. Tight, fiery bands mashed his elbows together, causing his shoulders to scream in protest. More wire lashed his forearms, wrists and thumbs into a useless appendage. He found that he could swing his ungainly limbs to and fro slightly, but this offered no promise at escape.

A sharp, "electric" pain shot through his chest and struggled to focus through involuntarily glistening eyes.

"NNNNNNNNGGHHHHHH!!!!" He screeched in abject horror. HIS NIPPLES HAD BEEN PIERCED!!!!

A gleaming silver shaft capped with steel balls, skewered each tender nub. Dangling from each, was a silver "U". Dumbstruck, he tried to shake them off, causing the horseshoes to merely tap lightly against his skin. The ache in his gut, mirrored that in his package, when he felt the same, sharp pain emanating from "Mr. Jolly".

Scarcely daring to look, he forced himself to anyway. Although his junk was flaccid and hidden from sight, he nonetheless got yet another shock. He'd been shaved! His thick, curly patch of black hair had been shorn away, and now sported a narrow "Brazilian Cut"; the kind he so liked in "his women". This, somehow, seemed the worse humiliation so far.

As he continued to peer down in disbelief, a long string of drool spilled from his mouth and landed on the short, black-haired "landing strip". Anger swept away his helplessness and he bellowed for the person responsible to show themselves. He was greeted by silence and the sound of his wet, raspy breathing.

Darryl strained and writhed as much as he could, the bonds and plug easily keeping him trapped in place. There was no way to get free, no way to get comfortable. He had no choice but to wait; wait and see what was to happen next. The powerlessness swept over him and he shivered yet again.

More than an hour passed, before he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels descending a wooden staircase. Darryl spun his head left and right, trying to see who it was behind him. Unable to peer that far, he settled for staring straight ahead, growling with as much menace as he could muster. This "joke", had gone far enough!

The paces clacked softly across the concrete floor until they stopped, still behind him. The pause stretched out, until he could stand it no more. He glanced back over his shoulder, but saw no one. Unnerved, he attempted another snarling demand to be set free. This one coming out sounding a lot more beseeching than he'd wanted.

Darryl realized that his whole body had tensed, the strain unnecessarily causing more pain than the wire and butt plug already provided. He willed himself to relax, a task easier said than done. Finally, his assailant moved once more. Now he'd get to see the animal responsible for all this.

"hhnffgnhh???" "Tiffany's" name came out as a wet, garbled jumble.

Not only was her appearance a shock, but her appearance was a shock! Gone was the conservatively dressed attorney. In her place was some kind of kinky, leather-clad Asian porn star. Her outfit was a cross between stripper shorts and a mono-kini. She looked as though she'd been poured into the glistening, white patent leather. The shorts couldn't have been more than 6" wide, her camel-toe clearly visible.

From there, two swaths of leather ran up, halter-style, and anchored around her slender neck with a 2" collar, complete with silver studs. An integrated belt around her waist, kept everything taut and in place. The inner curves of her pert breasts were visible, almost to the areola.

Her legs were laced into white, thigh-high leather boots with 4" heels and she wore leather bracers on her forearms. However, the greatest transformation was in her face.

Her jet-black, waist length hair was slicked back and spun into an incredibly tight bun. Her usually soft, lightly made-up face was now stark; with its smoky dark eyeshadow, highlighted cheekbones and shimmering, ruby red lipstick. She carried the air of dominance and superiority easily, as if it was her natural bearing.

"Hello, Honey Bear." She purred.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" A cruel smile curling her lips.

Darryl was so stunned he couldn't find his voice. All he could do was stare, dumbfounded. Who was this woman!? Snapping out of it, he launched into a garbled tirade of demands. Her mirthful expression faded, replaced with a frown.

"Aww," she pouted, swaying and sashaying toward him until she straddled his spread legs.

"Don't you like the gifts I bought you?" She said, settling her thighs down on his.

"I gave them a lot of thought." She continued, flicking first the left and then the right nipple rings.

"I wanted to get something befitting a man of your class." Her voice turned icy, as she reached between their legs and cupped his manhood.

Darryl had the overwhelming urge to head-butt this psycho, but he needed to be freed first. The beatings could come later. Instead, he tried speaking to her in a calm, level-headed voice. The wet mishmash of mumbles made him feel foolish, as did the unavoidable streams of drool that accompanied the effort.

Tiffany tilted her head back and laughed.

"What a messy little plaything you are!" She said, wiping the saliva off his chin with her thumb and smearing it on his forehead.

"But before you get all mushy, I've got one more present."

She held up a 2", black leather collar. It was obviously a dog collar, complete with silver studs and name tag. "HONEY BEAR" was the name engraved on the tag.

"No, it's not a misprint. This is your new name, whenever we play together."

"Honey Bear?" he thought, as she leaned forward to fasten it around his neck. "Wait! What! Whenever we PLAY together!!???"

"Does this lunatic think we're going to do this again? I don't even want to be here now!"

He could only stare at her in disbelief, as she showed him the tiny brass padlock which she used to secure the collar in place. This nightmare kept getting more surreal!

Leaning back to stare face to face once more, Tiffany continued her crazy talk.

"Now, I've got some friends stopping over and I want you to behave yourself. I was going to wait until after they'd gone, to give you your reward...but I just can't help myself."

She slid of his lap and gracefully dropped to her knees. Bending forward, she cupped his balls, drew his lax cock into her mouth and began a slow, wet, magnificent blowjob. He'd never experienced anything like it before; her mouth and tongue were a gift from heaven. Despite his situation, he could feel himself hardening rapidly.

It seemed to go on forever. Tiffany would bring him to the brink, only to ease off. Sometimes, she'd tug on a piercing or rake her nails across his scrotum, all of which short-circuited his impending climax. Darryl's wet babbles grew more urgent, rapidly digressing to outright pleas for release. Quite often, her only response was to gaze at him with bright, laughing eyes.

Finally, it seemed as though he would get his wish. Tiffany doubled her efforts (unnecessarily) and began tugging on his whole package. Darryl shuddered and quaked, he was sooo close! Then, his tormentor's head flew back, her hands becoming a blur. There was a strange vvrrrrp! sound and a scream lodged in his throat.

But wait...something was WRONG! Rather than the anticipated euphoria, agony twisted his privates. Lightning bolts and colored blobs filled his vision. He might have wailed, but the roaring in his head drowned it out.

Gradually, his head cleared and his vision restored. His gaze caught Tiffany, who'd rocked back on her heels, the cruel smirk back on her face. Ignoring her, Darryl focused on more important matters. This time, he heard the whimper escape his throat.

It was as if he was looking at his hard-on for the very first time. It had taken on a size and dimension he wouldn't have thought possible. The rigid shaft stood almost straight up, twitching as if it had a nervous tick. At its base, he could just make out a narrow leather strap, garroting his most cherished appendage.

The 8" tower of rock hard man-meat was slowly turning crimson; the color perfectly contrasting the 1" silver ring that pierced the head of his penis. His eyes were torn between the disfigurement and the person who'd performed it.

"In case you were worried," she said nonchalantly, "I used a powerful coagulant and disinfectant when I installed your hardware. I'm afraid any analgesic properties are negligible."

The ongoing ache of the piercings told him as much.

"Well, I should be going now, they'll be here soon. You just sit there like a good boy and mommy will visit you later."

Tiffany walked off to one side, into the fringe of darkness. A squeaking arose and she returned, wheeling a 6' by 4' mirror. She positioned it directly in front of him, his horror-filled self, staring back. As she strode past, she kissed him on the forehead and flicked the head of his dick with her fingernail.

Darryl shot off of his seat, held in check by the lap bar and butt plug. Macho be damned, he started blubbering like a baby, begging her to come back and at least release his strangled cock. His answer was the sound of heels purposefully ascending the stairs, followed by a door closing and a deadbolt being thrown.

He stared back at his "companion" sitting in front of him. What a sorry looking piece of work he was. Darryl gave up on fighting his bonds and focused all his effort on deflating his organ. Baseball, dead kittens, grandparents screwing; nothing worked.

He gazed at his pitiful reflection. So much virility rendered impotent. Bound, collared and bejeweled like some kinda goddamned San Francisco fairy. And let's not forget getting fucked up the ass. Oh no, mustn't forget that!

However, Darryl didn't slip into despair. Nope, he was made of stronger mettle. He was still alive (though a portion of him wished otherwise) and assumed he still would be, after this was all over. No sir, this had to end sooner or later (Please God, let it be sooner!) and when it did, all hell was going to break loose.

He was going to fuck every hole of that bitch until it was raw and THEN, he'd hand her over to the police. Darryl almost felt cheerful, until his dick pulsed and his abdomen cramped with contractions.

He'd drifted off to a state of semi-consciousness, when he first heard the quiet titter of laughter and the gentle strains of soft rock. His salvation at hand, he screamed until his throat was raw. He knew his voice was muted, but surely someone must hear.

"They can't ALL be deaf, can they?" He wondered.

The party went on, he knew not how long. Darryl had lost all sense of time. The static environment of light, surrounded by dark, surrendered no clue as to what time, or even what day it was. His aching body told him it had been at least three lifetimes.

The only thing that did change, were his beliefs, which were crushed one after the other. He didn't believe he could ache any more, then a new wave of agony would sweep through him. He was certain that his poor cock was going to blacken and fall off, like a rotting banana. It continued to twitch and throb, never growing desensitized. The prod up his ass and rings through his flesh seemed to grow, every time his body tried to reject them. Limbs that should have grown numb, persistently begged for release.

A wave of relief like that of re-birth, washed over him when he heard the basement door open. The familiar clack of high heels soon followed. Astonishingly, other footfalls followed close behind. Feminine gasps and laughter filled the air. Darryl couldn't help but whirl his head around yet again, knowing he wouldn't see who was there until they exposed themselves.

And then they did...and he knew each and every one of them! Six, no, seven of the women from the office building where he worked, all of whom he'd bedded then kicked to the curb. Their expressions ranged from blushing embarrassment to outright hostility.

"Well, here he is ladies." Tiffany announced. "As promised."

"God's manifestation of everything wrong with the male species. Go ahead, don't be shy. I assure you, he's not going to bite."

The women needed no further prompting. They descended on him like vultures on a carcass. Hands went everywhere. They pulled and twisted his piercings, stroked his swollen cock and squeezed his ass. Sharp nails raked his ass and chest, shaft and balls.

One of them, Lori from Accounting, leaned forward and tried to smother his stretched lips with her own. Well, that looked like a world of fun and all the girls took turns trying, leaving his face coated with wine-laced saliva. All the while, Darryl kept on trying to tell them the hell he'd been put through. Somehow, even if able to speak, he knew it wouldn't have made any difference.

"Alright ladies." Tiffany proclaimed finally. "Allow me to make some minor adjustments, then we'll proceed as planned."

The crowd parted. The Asian girl approached (still wearing the leather outfit, he noted) carrying a box roughly the size of a toaster. She sat it down in front of him and knelt. She showed him a slender metal shaft, roughly the size of a blunt-tipped, 6" long knitting needle. She began to lick it with long, languid strokes.

Grasping his hard-on in her fist, she aligned the tip of the shaft with his pee-hole. His utter disbelief froze him with inaction. By the time he attempted to evade, it was too late. All he succeeded in doing by squirming in the chair, was further punish his violated ass. In no time, the probe disappeared, the only sign of it was the insulated wire hanging from the tip of his purplish head.

Tiffany fussed for a moment, then stood back, arms crossed beneath her leather-clad breasts.

"Okay, Honey Bear," she all but growled, "here's how it's going to work. You remember Rachel from Burns Advertising on the 6th floor, don't you?"

Darryl thought the face was familiar.

"Well, her sweetheart of a boss, allowed her to borrow all kinds of video equipment. She and I set most of it up last night, after you'd taken the bait. In fact, it's been recording ever since we dragged you down here."

"Most of that will be for our own, future entertainment. However, the bit where you seemed to really enjoy your blow-job, will definitely make the final cut."

"Now, although you deserve to rot in a dark hole for the way you've treated women, we would just as soon not cross paths with law enforcement."

"So, you're going to read from a little script we've prepared, extolling the joys of finally unleashing your submissive side. Don't worry, we'll let you read through it a couple times."

"And what would make you want to do such a thing, you may ask. Allow me to demonstrate."

She knelt once more. Darryl suddenly felt a white-hot agony rip through his ass. His body went absolutely rigid. Seconds passed before he found the breath to wail. Slowly, the convulsions ebbed, his cries degrading into sobs.

"And if that isn't enough motivation."

Pure and absolutely intolerable anguish exploded within his manhood. Darryl hadn't enough clarity-of-thought to wish for insanity or death. Slowly and very much against his wishes, comprehension returned; aided a great deal by the ammonia capsule held beneath his nose.

As his mind cleared, he was never more certain of any one thing in his life; he NEVER wanted to experience that again! He'd do anything they asked! ANYTHING! He prayed to god and on his mother's grave. He prayed on the grave of every mother who ever lived! PLEASE, don't make him endure that agony again!

Darryl started blubbering and nodding his head like a maniac. It seemed to be enough for Tiffany.

"Janice, you've got the cue cards?"

Janice, who also worked in the same building, stepped forward holding some 12" by 24" cardboard placards. Darryl struggled to read the hand-printed script through bleary eyes. As he did, his heart sank. But there was no other way out.

"Ready, Slave?" Tiffany asked.

Darryl nodded with all the enthusiasm of signing his own death warrant.

Tiffany produced a small key and walked behind him.

"Remember," she growled in his ear, causing him to flinch, "I want cheerful and enthusiastic. There's enough juice in that battery to last all night long."

"And don't even think about calling for help. Making sure this place was soundproof, was the first thing I did."

He felt the gag strap slacken, but was unable to expel the bit and ball. Tiffany had to ask one of the women to hold his head, so that she could extract it. As it fell away, he noted absently that there were scarcely any tooth marks in the hard rubber. He'd certainly tried to chew the damn thing in half.

They gave him a few minutes to work his jaw loose and find his voice. Then Janice held up the cue cards once more. He tried to clear his raw throat, he needed to get this right on the first try.

Tiffany- How are you today, Honey Bear?

Pig- I'm wonderful mistress. Thank you SO much for helping me explore my submissive side. I've needed a strong woman in my life for sooo long!

Tiffany- Your welcome slave. And how do you like your new jewelry?

Pig- Oh! It's beautiful! But it must have cost so much! How can I ever repay you?

Tiffany- Think nothing of it. Let's call them your medals of submission.

Pig- Oh, I'll cherish them always!

Tiffany- Honey Bear?

Pig- Yes mistress?

Tiffany- I know how much you love pleasuring my flower until I come, would you like the privilege of doing so for some of my friends?

Pig- Oh mistress! Nothing would make me happier!

Tiffany- I thought that might be a special treat. Now, I know how you sometimes get overly excited and like to nibble a bit; so I'm going to have to insist that you wear your ring gag.

Pig- Of course mistress, I understand. Anything to taste their sweet nectar and bring nothing but pleasure to your friends.

"What do you think girls, will that pass?"

The reviews were mixed. They made him go over it four more times until they were satisfied.

"I think even Gary down in the mail room would buy it." Said Colleen from the Accounts Receivable department. "And I happen to know that he's actually into this shit. He told me so!"

"Well, it's certainly good enough." Tiffany announced. "Besides, Rachel can smooth out any rough edges with editing, before uploading the final product."

"WHAT!?!" Darryl thought, perplexed.

"That's right, Honey Bear. After Rachel alters our voices, removes any reference of our names and blots out any distinguishing features, your little performance is going straight to the Cloud!"

"From here on out, you do ANYTHING we don't like and your face is going to be plastered all over the internet."

"Debbie, would you mind manning the 'Box of Persuasion" while I fit Honey Bear with his new gag?"

"With pleasure!" Said the full-figured blonde who worked at building's snack bar.

"The rest of you girls will find what you need, over on the table."

Tiffany strode behind him and locked something behind his bottom teeth. A fresh new pain attacked his jaw, as his mouth was pried apart. The enormous ring locked behind his incisors and its strap was buckled. Darryl shook his head to dislodge it, spittle flying everywhere, but it was there to stay.

He felt Tiffany fiddling near both cheeks, then down by his ankles. Without warning, a brutal force pulled his head back, while at the same time, his feet were drawn up closer to his ass. By the time that it became clear that she'd roped the gag strap to his ankles, Darryl was staring unwaveringly at the acoustical ceiling tiles.

Something heavy was dragged up behind him, bumping into his plumbing-pipe perch. Something, rather, someone walked up what must have been a set of steps. Darryl blinked in astonishment. It was Hillary Clinton!

No, he realized, it was one of the women in a rubber Clinton mask and wearing a paper surgical gown. Once her thighs were even with his head, she spun and hiked up the gown. She wore no panties underneath. She squatted, smothering Darryl's nose and mouth with her pussy.

"hhhmmmnnfffff!!!!" He screamed into her snatch; his air cut off!

Aside from wriggling a little bit, the woman didn't move. It was abundantly clear, that if he wanted to breathe again, he was going to have to make her cum. He thrust her tongue into her steamy slit, like a man not yet ready to die. Unable to move his head, he had to rely on the pussy's owner to move so that he could attack her clit.

And so it began, stretching on for what seemed like forever. One vagina would exit, leaving him gasping for air, another would take its place. He'd forgotten that some of these women he'd laid were 'squirters'. Recollection came fast, as he sputtered and coughed to clear his airway. In no time, his face was drenched with bodily fluids.

On it went. He was certain that some women came back for seconds, if not thirds. Their stamina, or cruelty, seemed to have no end. But finally, it did end. Darryl "sat" there, his breath coming in hitches. He could no longer see or hear, his eyes and ears were pasted shut.

"Well, I must say that was fun!" Tiffany announced. "I must remember to invite Honey Bear back here for a little 'one on one' session, seeing that tonight was for the benefit of you ladies."

"Why don't you stick around and help me get him ready for his 'Coming Out' party?"

She poured a trickle of the same Roofie she'd used to spike his wine and watched as he reflexively swallowed.

Darryl's head jerked at the all too familiar stench of ammonia.

"Woah, steady there, lover!" Tiffany chortled. "Take a minute to get used to your makeover."

He didn't understand what she meant. His restraints certainly felt different and there was an even greater discomfort in his ass, but he was still disoriented. Tired beyond belief, he finally managed to open his eyes.

Sunlight was streaming in through the window, bouncing off the mirror in front of him, making it hard to see. It was abundantly clear, that a whole night had passed. As his sight adjusted, he noted that he was back on the living room couch, flanked by Tiffany and Rachel. The scenery wasn't the only thing that had changed.

It was all too much to take in. First, his beautiful mullet had been shorn down to a crewcut. His mouth was still locked in an "O" by the ring gag, the maw disproportionately large for his face. His head was locked all but motionless, thanks to a huge, stiff collar that had to be at least 6" tall. A glint of silver told him that his name tag had been transferred.

His arms seemed to have disappeared, but he felt them wrenched painfully up behind him, his fingers nearly brushing the collar. An experimental tug told him that the collar and cuffs were connected.

And no, he hadn't been dreaming, for the U-shaped piercings, glittered in the sunlight. Something black and constricting was wrapped around his pelvis and his feet hurt, in a weird way.

"C'mon," his tormentor said, "let's get you on your feet."

With a grunt of effort, the two women hoisted him on to wobbly feet. Somehow, he felt taller. They walked him shakily around the coffee table, a metallic tinkling coming from his ankles. Darryl wanted to collapse but they wouldn't let him, as he took in his transformation.

"Aren't your new toys wonderful!" Rachel exclaimed. "They're all made of tamper-resistant materials"

"And your piercings are made of case-hardened steel. You're gonna need more than a corner jeweler to get those babies off."

Darryl stared at forlornly his reflection. His feet were squeezed into black ankle boots with 3" stiletto heels. Black leather cuffs were locked around his ankles, clearly prohibiting easy removal of the shoes. A stout silver chain, 10" long, connected the cuffs. An all-over tingle, plus the visual evidence, told him that they'd shaved his legs. The same went for his chest hair.

They'd somehow managed to squeeze him into a pair of thick, brutally tight, black rubber biker's shorts. His flesh at mid-thigh, bulged at the openings, as did his waist. The integrated belts at waist and thighs, all sported shiny padlocks. It took him a moment to realize what the bold, white letters across the waistline spelled out:

"GOT COCK?"

accompanied by a set of curving white arrows pointing to his rubber-sheathed erection. The sheath had a silver zipper running up the center of it, the significance of it not having its own lock, escaping him at the moment. Made of slightly thinner neoprene, Darryl could clearly see the outline of his still raging hard-on, including the ring topping it off.

He spared no wonder at the cause of his slightly bow-legged stance, nor his dancing on increasingly aching toes. He knew the reason all too well. A butt plug, one that made the first one seem like swizzle stick, was crammed up his ass. He was positive that it was going to take surgery to remove it.

He screamed in horror at the glint of metal in his mouth, but not a sound emerged. His tongue had been pierced! A silver ball, ½" in diameter, rested on his tongue. Belatedly, he could feel its mate, tapping on the bottom of his mouth. This was such a psychological blow, that he overlooked the fact that he was mute.

"That would be the coagulating anesthetic we used for the piercing." Tiffany explained.

"If you don't get some ice on that soon," Rachel mocked, "it'll remain swollen for days."

"Just like 'Mr. Jolly'." She added, stroking his rubber-clad erection.

"One added benefit," Tiffany said, picking up the one-sided conversation, "is that it also numbed your vocal cords. You won't be able to make a sound for another few hours."

"Hope you approve, Honey Bear." Rachel said, hanging a set of keys from the same ring on his collar that held the name tag. "Because we've got to be going."

"I'll let you in on a little secret." She whispered in his ear. "We've injected epoxy into all of the padlock keyholes, including the one for your gag. So, it's gonna require a little patience on your part, before your set free."

"But don't worry, we've allowed for easy access to SOME areas." Tiffany purred, patting his rock-hard cock and rubber covered ass.

As they manhandled him down the hallway, Darryl thought about dropping to his knees; but was sure he'd fuck himself up in the process. Besides, restrained as he was, they'd already proven that they could handle him easily enough. Better to just go along until he could summon some help.

Their destination was Tiffany's garage, in which sat a nondescript minivan. Two of the other women he'd "serviced" last night, were standing next to it. Each burst out into peals of laughter at his appearance.

"Told ya you'd like it!" Rachel beamed.

The quartet had no trouble muscling him into the back seat, where he was to sit in the middle. Darryl tried to launch himself back up when his butt hit the hard foam cushion; something tried to propel the plug through his navel!

"Oh," Tiffany said, "that would be the ring handle for your butt plug."

"Yeah," Rachel chimed in, "Gotta provide some way for all your new friends to make your acquaintance."

Laughter filled the van. Whatever the riddle, Daryl didn't like the sound of it. But there was nothing he could do to prevent them from engaging the shoulder/lap belt and being sandwiched between two of the scorned women.

The garage door went up and Rachel backed out. Darryl had hoped that he might attract some attention, but the vans windows were tinted and he was shielded between two yammering women. Tiffany turned to look back from the passenger seat.

"Let's make a few things clear." She said.

"First, we all have iron-clad alibis."

"Second, if you race back here with the authorities, there'll be nothing to find. Any and all evidence has been removed or destroyed. Trust me, I know a thing or two about forensics."

"Your most fervent accusations will only make you look crazy. Persist, and I'll file for a PPO. Believe me, the police no longer take Personal Protection Orders lightly."

"As for your gear," she said, nodding towards his restraints, "it's yours to keep."

"Yeah." Rachel announced, peering in the rearview mirror. "It'll go well with all the other kinky stuff you've ordered thru Ebay over the past 6 months, and have waiting for you at your storage unit."

The women all laughed at his distorted, yet blank expression.

"Oh yes," Tiffany chortled, "once you discovered how much you craved discipline, there was no stopping your deviant purchases. You've racked up quite an extravagant collection."

"Whips, plugs, manacles...the list goes on and on. Why, you've even got dozens of items secreted around that shabby apartment of yours. It's a safe wager that you'll never find them all."

"And being the financial genius she is," Rachel added, "Colleen here, has made sure that all electronic transactions lead right back to your doorstep."

"You see, Honey Bear" Tiffany snarled, "this hasn't been some spur-of-the-moment thing."

"We've been working on this for over half a year." Rachel said, her voice as cold as ice."

"If pressed to investigate, computer forensics will find a myriad of tawdry images, chatrooms and websites deleted, but not erased from your computer's hard drive. The only way for you to remove them all, is to incinerate your laptop."

"And that won't stop your orders from rolling in and being stored at a location unknown to you." Tiffany clarified.

"Just waiting for an anonymous 'Good Samaritan' to blow the whistle."

"Oh," Rachel said, "did we forget to mention the kiddie porn and bestiality videos? Dozens and dozens of 'em."

"Oh Honey Bear, you are one sick individual."

Darryl could only sit there, his world spinning out of control. He paid scant notice to what was happening outside the van. The lump in his stomach, grew almost as big as the one in his ass.

"Could it be?" He wondered. "Could these women have actually pulled off what they claim?

One thing was for sure. He wasn't going to bet the rest of his life on it! This nightmare had to end sooner or later. When it did, he'd pick up stakes and move out of town. There were plenty of other bimbos, elsewhere, that he could use for a one-night stand. His scheming was interrupted when Tiffany spoke once more.

"By the way. We quite enjoyed ourselves last night and will be calling on you from time to time for your services."

"So don't even think about quitting and moving elsewhere. One vacation day, one sick day, and we'll contact the authorities. From now on, you're going to be an exemplary employee and outstanding male role model."

"Do we make ourselves clear!"

Unable to nod, Darryl could only blink rapidly. That was it! He saw no way out. He was forever trapped in a world of servitude and good behavior. Surely, this must be what hell was like!

The van eased to a stop. He realized that they'd parked in an alley and could see some kind of commotion through the windshield. Tiffany holding a key fob, caught his attention.

"Do you remember the little "ass-zapping" fun you experienced last night?" She queried.

"Well, you're now clenching its MUCH larger brother. That not-so-little bugger is practically ALL battery!"

"So, if you wish to avoid being shocked into next week, possibly cauterizing your rectum in the process, you'll climb out of the van and go join the excitement up ahead."

Terrified of the consequences for resisting, he allowed himself to be lowered out the van. One of them strung a lanyard around his neck, which included a 4"by6" placard he couldn't see to read. He stutter-stepped forward a few paces and turned. They were all watching him, Tiffany gesturing "forward" with the key fob.

When he sighed in defeat, he actually heard a faint rasp. He certainly couldn't articulate, but at least he'd soon be able to convey his distress. Grasping at this slim reed of hope, he hobbled on, fighting not to turn an ankle in the heels.

"You weren't really going to shock him, were you?" Rachel asked.

"Nah," Tiffany answered, "these are just my car keys. It wouldn't do for us to jump out and put him back on his feet. The fear of "what if" will be motivation enough for him to see it through."

Darryl had taken two steps out of the alley and into the sunlight, when he realized that the "commotion" was actually a god-damned parade. A hand-painted banner caught his eye.

"BDSM Pride 4Ever!" It read.

The meaning was just sinking in, when he heard a voice:

"Hey, Honeybuns. Look who just joined the party!"

Darryl turned to see an enormous woman with bleached-blonde hair. She must've weighed 300lbs! She was wearing a ridiculously tight leather skirt and a scarlet bustier of fake lace. Her voluminous breasts were barely contained within the cups of the garment.

"Hmm, "Honey Bear." She said, spotting his name tag. "Aww, isn't that cute!"

A giant of a man dressed in black leather pants and vest, saddled up to her. Darryl couldn't help sneaking a peek at his package. The guy was hung like an elephant!

"Who we got here, Darlin'?" He asked the woman.

"I don't know; introductions haven't been made yet. But his sign says, "Yours for the Taking." He sure is dressed for some action!"

"What kind of ass he got?" He said, spinning Darryl around like a salt shaker.

"Woo-wee!" He said, tugging on the butt plug's handle. "That's some serious shit, there! Wouldn't mind havin' a go at that tight ass."

"Well," she said, "it certainly would give MY sore pussy a break."

"Plus, I haven't whipped me any Man-Meat in more than a month!" She added, reaching out and groping his rubberized erection.

"So, we gonna keep him?" The giant asked.

"Don't see why not." She answered. "He obviously wanted to be here."

"Whaddya say, sugar. You wanna come home and make mommy and daddy reeeeal happy?

Darryl was terrified! He couldn't shake his head "no" and his voice hadn't yet returned. He tried backing away, but bumped into a mailbox.

"Well then, it's settled." The woman gushed. "Honey Bear, you're our guest for the rest of the weekend!"

They each grasped an elbow and began ushering him away from the crowd. Darryl dug in his extremely high heels and finally found his voice.

"gahhhhh!!! nah-ahhhh!!!" he croaked.

"Now, now. There'll be none of THAT!" The woman growled, reaching under her skirt as she did.

Taking a quick look around, she slid her panties off. They were a bright red pair, made of cheap polyester lace, large enough to act as a toddler's swing. Even from where he stood, he could smell that they hadn't been washed in weeks. With one hand on the back of his collar, she began shoving the vile fabric into his gaping mouth.

"Hand me your bandanna, will you baby?" She said, concentrating on getting ALL of the panty behind Darryl's teeth. Her mate removed the grimy kerchief from his from his head and passed it to her. She easily transformed it into a cleave gag, trapping the immense wad in place and effectively hiding the gag strap.

"Cops comin', sweetheart." The giant cautioned.

Cool as a cucumber, the woman kept him pinned to the mailbox with her hip and pulled out a disposable blue rain poncho from her fanny pack, which she draped over his shoulders. Next, she pulled out a pair of adhesive bandages and plastered them over his eyes. Darryl felt what could only have been sunglasses slip into place. The poncho's hood rustled up around his head, and the woman's scotch-reeking breath hissed in his ear.

"Too late to back out now, sweetcheeks. You ARE comin' with US!"

Darryl heard the unmistakable sound of a switchblade snap open.

"Just to be clear." She growled, pressing the blade against his cock. "You give us ANY trouble and I'll turn you into a gelding, then keep on walking."

The duo grabbed him by the elbows, gripping them painfully. They then proceeded to stroll away from the din around them. Darryl had no choice but to walk along, the fear of castration far outweighing anything he'd experienced thus far...or had yet to experience.

The police officers never noticed the trio ease away from the crowd. They were too busy making sure that none of these nutcases wearing leather and chains were indecently exposing themselves. Besides that, this was simply a case of crowd control.

The women in the van, however, had front row seats to what transpired. They'd sat there, mouths agape, and watched the whole thing unfold. They certainly couldn't run to "Honey Bear's" aid, that would raise too many questions. There was nothing they could do, that wouldn't drag them into a quagmire they'd worked so hard to avoid.

Oh well. Maybe Darryl would still show up to work on Monday. Or perhaps, the day after that...or the day after that.