Inescapable Pt. 02 of 02

She was Anong to a far greater degree than I was Marci. I had a life to get back to, though.

One of the most humiliating things about the situation was how I couldn't help loving Marci's body.

I didn't want to be female, exactly. I didn't feel like a girl inside; I wasn't even sure what that would feel like. But... I really wanted to turn men on. I craved making guys cum. And this body was a much better tool for that job than my old one. So I'd find myself feeling grateful for having tits, and a pussy, and a round padded ass, and even the hair. They were just so useful. I would've felt almost helpless without them. There were a lot fewer gay guys than straights.

And then I'd remember that, once I had my old body back, I'd have my old mind too. I wouldn't want guys to cum inside me anymore. By now, I couldn't remember - or even really conceive - what that'd be like, though.

Care and maintenance of that body sucked up an alarming amount of my attention. Not just the hair, although my hairstyle vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds. (Beehive, bouffant, feathering and layering and waves and fringes and wraps, the endless variations of braids and buns - on and on.) Makeup was another whole field of study now, too.

Then jewelry on top of that. Like I said, I wore earrings a lot. Piercings were extremely common here. I was old-school enough that nose rings or lip rings weren't my style. So I added a couple more earring holes, and a jewel in my belly button.

I also got a stud in my tongue. Really opens up your options for blowjobs. That little extra tickle coaxes out the cum like nobody's business.

That's in addition to bracelets and anklets and necklaces and sometimes rings (though since we needed a lot of manual dexterity those weren't as common).

Remember the website menu I mentioned? There had been a special order. And they'd picked me!

But the details of the order gave me pause. D&S, bondage and humiliation. I had no real clue how to pull that off - and I was more than a little confused why a guy would pick a girly frou-frou princess for such a role, anyway. Since, as previously noted, I hated to be unprepared, I made a beeline for the local expert.

Diana was not confused. "Oh, Aaron, yeah," she said with an indulgent, reminiscent smile. "He's really into the whole humiliation thing. I've done him a couple times."

"Wouldn't you be better at it?" I asked. "Is he tired of you or something?"

Now I was the target of her indulgence. "You know how guys are. Always wanting the new hotness. He's tried a bunch of new girls." Then she paused, recalling that my knowledge of guys was from the inside as well as from experience.

I rolled my eyes, as if to say, 'whatever'. "But I don't exactly have a dominant build. How am I supposed to -"

She laughed, interrupting me. "Not all bottoms are the same!" She shook her head. "Some of 'em want to be physically dominated, yeah. So they have an excuse for giving in." Then she shrugged. "A lot of 'em want, y'know, emotional dominance. A lover or even a mother, someone who knows best for 'em."

I still didn't get it. "But..."

She held my eyes, as if to say, 'let me finish'. "But, some guys - like Aaron - want to be humiliated. Feeling pathetic gets them off."

The light dawned. "Oh! So if even a frilly little girl can push him around..."

"Right!" she replied.

Now that I had some understanding, now that I could picture it, I started to get turned on by the image. If he thought it was hot, that automatically made it hot, period. Diana gave me a lot of advice, not unlike Anong had with Samesh. I could see her getting almost as worked up as me, just imagining Aaron responding to me.

And then I had to wait all day. I was in a heady state of tension and anticipation and horniness, and distracted myself trying to pick a hairstyle. I settled on a loose side-braid with sweeps on either side of my face. It worked well - my skill level made it just amateurish enough to look like an experiment by a fashion-conscious girl who didn't have quite enough time to hit the salon.

I was sitting on my couch, watching the news with the volume low. When the knock came at the door, I shut the TV off, stood up, and spent a few seconds examining myself in the mirror over the dresser, just to check my appearance.

I was wearing a purple dress, not fancy - cotton/polyester blend. The skirt was short, but past my crotch and covered my butt. It had two straps over the shoulders, thin but not 'spaghetti'. Bra straps were visible - I was wearing white-and-purple bra and panties. The neckline was about even with my armpits, with only a modest scoop. In back, there was a wide strip of fabric across the shoulderblades that kept it from being backless. It was cute (and with my body, quite sexy) but not at all explicit. A girl could wear it to a family party with hardly a raised eyebrow.

I couldn't bring myself to delay more than a moment or two more. When I opened the door I did it casually, as if I didn't care. It felt weird to hold back - most guys wanted eagerness - but Diana had insisted. As I let him in, I hoped she was right.

Aaron was tall, thin, in his mid thirties. Shoulder-length hair, curly. Diana said he was a consultant in some tech field, had money to throw around. He wasn't wearing a suit; he had on skinny jeans and a tan sweater. He was a little hard to read; not exactly a poker face, but low-affect.

Since I wasn't Diana, her kind of style wouldn't work for me. We'd agreed that I'd be a typical teenage girl - by the standards of Gerry's Place, at least - and I would start out a little unsure. Not afraid, just not used to the idea of humiliating someone.

I spoke up, my eyes squinting. "So, like... you really want me to, like, take over?"

Still hard to read. "Yeah."

"Okay," I said, with just a shade of doubt. "Um... stand up straight. Lemme look at ya."

He did. After a second, I said, "Turn around," with a bit more confidence. He did. "Not so fast," I said. As he slowed down, I thought I saw the first flicker of interest.

"Huh. Not much to look at," I said, half to myself. I looked him in the eye. "So you'll really do anything I say?" I asked, with lingering disbelief.

He nodded.

I thought for a second. "Then take off that stupid sweater!"

He did, then stood still. I smiled slightly and said, "Okay, like, get your shoes and pants off."

He started to, but I barked, "C'mon! Faster!" More rapidly, his shoes were pushed off. He hooked a finger under a sock but I countermanded that. "I didn't say take off your socks!" I thought I saw his eyebrows rise for a second - almost the first emotion he'd displayed. Then his pants dropped, and he pulled his feet out of them. He was wearing briefs, which let me judge how tumescent he was pretty well. He wasn't cranked yet, but was getting there.

But I wanted to speed that along. I tilted my head and told him to pull down his underwear. He did, and...

"Ohmigod, is that your dick?" I scoffed, and tittered, exuding shocked and amused derision. That dick got harder. So did my nipples, but I had chosen a bra that would keep me from sprouting points through my dress.

"Ohmigod, you really are a pussy!" I exclaimed. His cock stiffened yet more.

I put him through some paces, my apparent delight growing with my scorn. He warmed to my discipline and mocking, but I didn't let him touch himself or do anything about the erection jutting out from his crotch.

Diana had warned me, but I hadn't really appreciated how incredibly difficult this kind of job was for Gerry's Girls. He wanted to be humiliated, dominated. He wanted me to be in total control at all times. If I got mildly aroused, that was fine - but he craved my contempt. Having a shrieking vocal orgasm was right out; it would ruin the mood. So would touching that dick that wobbled around, tempting me.

So I had to stay outwardly casual the whole time. Ever try to look snide and maybe a little bored while your pussy is literally quivering with lust? When he came the first time I only just managed to keep myself from whimpering. I turned it into a bout of laughter that didn't quite become hysterical.

Then I made him clean himself up. He had to lick his cum off his hands. We played more games and he came twice more. I ordered him to get dressed after that, and kicked him out with a few insults.

Once I shut the door I counted to ten, to give him a chance to walk away. Then I jammed my fingers past my panties and frantically fingered myself. In seconds I fell to the floor in the throes of a climax so intense it bordered on a seizure.

I heard some disturbing gossip the next morning. A car with two guys in it had parked toward the back of the lot, and they'd just sat there for a couple hours before Duane noticed them on the security cameras.

He went up to the roof, and checked them out with binoculars. They were set up for a stakeout, including binoculars of their own. Duane had flicked on a laser gunsight and pointed it at the men in the car. Once they noticed it, they started up the engine and peeled out.

Almost certainly Novinski, taking more active steps - since both Loft and I had clearly failed. This had been partly surveillance, but mostly a test of our security. It made me nervous. Since we'd demonstrated decent responsiveness, Novinski would simply adjust his tactics.

I got my period two weeks in. I woke up at a quarter of four, with wet thighs and red stains on the sheets. The blood in my veins felt as cold as the blood smeared on my crotch.

I went to the bathroom and wiped off what I could, and quickly realized I wasn't going to manage this alone. I wound up wearing a pair of panties, and stuffing another bunched-up pair of panties under the crotch. Nothing I had was really useful. Lace and satin are not famously absorbent. I wrapped my upper body in a gauzy robe that hid nothing.

Down the hall - for once, praying that no one would see me - I knocked on Anong's door. I kept trying, a couple more times, until she opened the door, blinking sleepy eyes.

"What's up?" she asked, yawning. I realized I'd woken her straight from REM sleep.

"I'm bleeding. Down there."

For just an instant, she looked annoyed. Then her brain kicked in. "Oh, shit. This is, like... your first."

"No shit."

She took my arm, led me back toward my room. "Nothin' to worry about. For us it's super easy. Barely three days, no cramps, not even much blood. Tampons, maybe a liner at night."

As we got to my door, I said, "I didn't think it was going to happen at all."

She stopped and frowned at me. "What?"

Nervously, I said, "I just... I just thought... You said we couldn't get pregnant, and I..."

"Hey, we're still women! We're not robots or some shit!" I'd offended her.

"But I was never a woman! I don't... I'm sorry, really, I just never..."

Anong closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Fuck it, let it go," she told herself. I meekly followed her to my bathroom. She pulled out the bottom drawer of the cabinet under the sink.

"What'd you think these were for?" she asked, giving me an uncharacteristically jaundiced eye. The drawer held a supply of feminine necessities.

"Visitors," I admitted miserably. I hadn't really thought about them at all.

"Hah. When do other girls come here?" Anong said, annoyed. "Well, now you got your monthly visitor." Then she had me use the shower massager to clean my lower half, without getting the hair wet. We were about to set me up with a pad when she realized I possessed zero non-sexy underthings. She went and got me one of her pairs of 'granny-panties'.

While we were getting me situated, she reassured me again that it would be fine, that menses was easy for Gerry's Girls. "Worst you got to worry about is messy sheets." I wouldn't meet her eyes. "Oh fuck, really?" She stepped over to my bedroom door and glanced in. "Fuck."

She showed me how to call the night maids, and went back to bed, still shaking her head. About half an hour later, I was lying down on fresh sheets. It took me a while to fall asleep.

Anong brought breakfast, and Madison, over in the morning. "I shoulda thought of her last night."

I wasn't feeling too bad; my stomach was a little off, like I'd eaten something really spicy, that was all. Except my pad was getting full.

We left Anong to get out plates and stuff, and went to the bathroom. Maddy was fairly gentle about things. She taught me the stuff I needed to know - things that girls learned by their early teens at the latest. It turned out she'd helped Collette that way, too.

After, we ate breakfast in my kitchen. Anong explained that we got a vacation during our time of the month, "unless somebody asks for a girl on the rag, o'course."

That gave me pause. It had been one of the options on the website menu. Still... "No guys at all?"

Madison grinned. "Awww, poor baby."

Ears warm, I looked at the countertop. My tone had been embarrassingly plaintive.

She answered my question anyway. "You can try." She shrugged. "I mean, blowjobs, anal, that's all good. But if a guy wants to go down on you or fuck your pussy, you'll have to disappoint him."

That was not a sexy thought at all. I didn't want to be responsible for a dick going limp.

Anong added, "Lotsa the girls go out and run errands and pick up men for a quick beej or something. If they ain't paying for it, guys don't mind taking what they can get." Her expression became a little more serious. "But, y'know, here... it's safe. Carmina, one time, she was out at a bar and she sucked off one guy, and then later she was getting another dude in her ass and it pissed off the first guy. He punched her real hard in the face before the other guy started fighting him. She had this huge bruise before Gerry fixed her up."

That was sobering. I was way more vulnerable now. And more likely to put myself in dangerous situations. Of course... "I don't think Gerry would let me out anyway."

Maddy gave a discomfittingly casual shrug. "If you promised not to run away, he might."

I opened my mouth to scoff at the notion... and then I closed it again. You could trust a promise if you could read minds.

This was all more interaction with her than I'd had since that night backstage. Anong was good for that. She seemed to like me, and everyone liked her, so the other girls were willing to give me a chance.

We gossiped for a while. Maddy glowered at Anong and said, "Billy came by again. Got all pissy when it was time to leave."

Anong rolled her eyes. "He'll give up. Someday."

At my blank face, Maddy clarified. "He wants to rescue me from this life. He's in loooove!" She sounded almost disgusted as she drawled.

I understood immediately. Gerry's Girls had no use for romance except as a seduction tool. There was no conceivable way we could be exclusive. We probably couldn't make it through a date without fucking somebody - or some group. Let alone a wedding reception.

Normal prostitutes or strippers would have enjoyed guys like that, if only for the chance to draw more money out of them. But to Gerry's Girls they were complications.

Anong brought up another kind of problem client. "At least you get to fuck him. I got a talker on Sunday." She scoffed in disgust. "Who springs for a hype ballin' hooker just to have some fucking conversation? I mean, come on!"

I laughed in sympathy. It had happened to me once already. "Like hiring a Lear jet to go pick up groceries." That got a both of them laughing, too.

Again, the vast majority of hookers would have probably enjoyed the chance to get paid without putting out. For us, however, they represented an unwelcome and irritating challenge. On the bright side, since we were in fact world-class hookers, at least half of the 'talkers' proved seducible. They found themselves getting more physical than they'd planned.

I kept them laughing as I told the story of how I'd corrupted my talker. Then Madison taught me some alternate strategies for dealing with them. It was as pleasant a morning as I could imagine for my first period.

Ultimately I chose to stick around. Some of it was safety. And some of it was wondering if I could promise Gerry not to spill, and mean it. I still hated his guts. Initially, of course, that had been because he'd turned me into a wildly promiscuous woman. But things had shifted somewhat.

Now I was furious because he'd obliged me to love being a wildly promiscuous woman. That was driven home by the fact that, for the moment, I lacked the ability to be promiscuous. And I missed it.

I spent a lot of time experimenting with different looks and styles and accoutrements. Like hats. A cute hat could really make a hairdo shine. A little off-center bolero on top of a fall just drove the boys wild. A pillbox added some vintage glam. For some reason, small gloves worked well with a beret.

I also put in hours of studio time each day, practicing. Ms. Ep declared that I might actually get on stage as a background dancer later that week. Symptom-wise, I had nothing more than very mild cramps. Although I didn't feel quite as cheerful when I got up in the morning. Maybe it was because I couldn't look forward to making any men come.

I did reflect on my situation, of course. What would it be like when I turned back? How would my mind process all the memories of this time as Marci?

Facing that problem was inevitable. Even with how much I enjoyed getting men off, I had absolutely no intention of staying here. There was no future in it, and I had people I loved in my old life. Not many, but I loved them a lot. Especially Amy.

That said... I felt nothing but excitement and relief when my period was over and I could get back to work.

Ben wanted me. No doubt about it. The second I came up to his table by the dance area, I knew.

For some reason he wouldn't seal the deal, though. I was using every stratagem I'd learned, but he just would not take the bait. Something held him back.

A decent-looking guy. Average height, shaved head, light-brown beard and mustache. A little body fat, but the kind of muscles that took regular workouts to maintain.

He watched longingly as Kristall danced. We had ways of covertly signalling each other, and I let her know he was interested. But when she swung by after her set, he didn't take her up on a quite explicit offer. The problem wasn't money, so far as I could tell. He tipped well on the meal and drinks.

I even caught him looking with envy at a patron while I was standing up from an under-the-table. He struck me like a kid looking through the window of a locked candy store.

I had to do something. The whole situation was intolerable. Finally I just came out with it. As I brought his fourth drink, I blurted out, "The great thing about Gerry's Place is you don't gotta play games. You want me, I want you. Let's do this. Fuck, I'll give you one free. No obligation, or whatever."

He looked tempted - God knows I knew how to recognize that by now - but also pained. Practically grieved. He fumbled for words. "I... Marci, that's... I wish..."

"Ain't no ring on your finger. What's the problem?" I had a sudden suspicion. "You sick? AIDS or something?"

It took him one extra moment to answer, a tiny beat. "Something like that."

That was bullshit, an excuse. I just knew, before he opened his mouth. It couldn't stop me. I smiled triumphantly and said, "Fuck that, we got female condoms. Not as much fun, but better than just looking." My smirk got lascivious. "Way better. I got skills I promise you ain't never seen...