Pretty in Pink Ch. 02

Up until this point, Thomas had been doing a pretty good job of keeping up appearances. He'd been staying out of sight, but also hovering just close enough to avoid being impolite. The eye-contact, however, that was too much. Susan had seen Thomas practically naked—Thomas knew that she'd seen him practically naked—and while Susan didn't seem to care, it was apparent that Thomas did. He was trying really, really hard not to, but he did. The discomfort was written all over his face, highlighted by splotches of red color. You didn't need Susan's level of intuition to read a face like that.

"Look, honey," Susan sighed, a sympathetic half-smile on her face. "If it's any consolation, I spend so much time around naked people, going back to work each Monday is actually a bit of a culture shock."

"What!?!?" Thomas sputtered, and he blushed even more furiously. "You think I'm... No, no, I'm fine! Honestly, it's not an issue."

"Oh, I see what this is..." Susan's half-smile suddenly morphed into a full-on, predatory grin. "You wanna know what I think of your pretty boy photos, don't you?"

"What?" Thomas cried, and just when I thought his face couldn't get any redder. "My god, of course not. That's ridiculous!"

"You've got an amazing butt," Susan teased, still smiling. "But it'd look even more amazing laid across my lap."

Thomas looked over at me and I could see him pleading with his eyes, but I shook my head.

"Don't look at me, I'm not gonna save you. You had your chance to stay home—full well knowing it'd be two against one—and you decided to come anyway. I fail to see how this is my problem."

"Wow, she is mean, isn't she?" Susan laughed, and she turned toward Thomas. "You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch."

"I...I guess?"

He guesses? Oh, so now, all of a sudden, he's being shy? A coy smile found its way onto my lips; I couldn't help myself. The nerve of that boy, whining all damn week about how I'm the one being a wimp.

It was true. Just a few days ago, we'd been snuggled together on the living room couch, looking through the BDSM checklist Susan had sent us and trying to plan out our first scene together. Thomas hadn't been so shy then. In fact, he'd been so excited to try anything and everything, I'd had to reign him in. Susan had called it "sub frenzy" and explained to me that, sometimes, new subs get so enthused by the possibilities that they have a hard time consciously considering their limits. Thomas had wanted to jump right into being pegged on the first date and I'd had to say "no." When I'd told Susan about it, she'd just laughed.

"That's what happens when you've been trapped in the safety of your own imagination for too long. But don't worry. It'll hit him like a ton of bricks once you're actually at my place and he'll be glad you told him 'no.' I guaran-fucking-tee it."

And lo and behold, Susan had been right. For all his enthusiasm earlier that week—when the weekend had been a far-off fantasy and our plans mere masturbation fodder—now real life was happening and Thomas could barely look Susan in the eye. And he was fully clothed right now, with his arms and legs free! Lord knows those luxuries wouldn't last long. Imagine the inner turmoil Thomas would be suffering right now if I hadn't shot down so many of his ill-conceived, cock-fueled ideas before he'd had the chance to go through with them.

Susan's right, you're one lucky son-of-a-bitch, I thought, still smiling. If it weren't for me, you'd be tarred, feathered, and running butt-naked through the streets right now, thinking, "Oh, god, what have I done?"

"Well, come on, you guys, before the mosquitoes start coming out!" And suddenly, Susan was at the front door, almost as if she'd teleported there. "I don't bite—well, not unless asked—but the bugs certainly will!"

I didn't need any prodding—I'd already been bitten once—but Thomas hesitated at the doorway and looked down at his feet, almost as if he wasn't sure whether or not he could move them. "Hey, are you okay?" I asked. I wanted this to be fun for both of us. Otherwise, it just wasn't worth it. "You know, it's okay to back out. This isn't a cruise. You can withdraw your reservation at anytime for a full refund and no one will think any less of you."

"No, no! I want to!" Thomas insisted, suddenly a lot more enthusiastic. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"Are you good nervous or bad nervous?"

"Umm...good nervous. Yes, definitely good nervous."

"Turned-on nervous?"

Thomas smiled sheepishly. "A little bit."

"Awesome!" With an encouraging smile I squeezed his butt, then gave it a nice slap. "Let's go have some fun, you bubble-butted cutie!" That comment earned me an excited, happy grin from Thomas and even a little laugh.

Score! I thought, and as Thomas walked through the front door, I punched the air, just out of sight. I am the best girlfriend ever. The best!

Once inside, Susan led us through a large, open living room, then down a long hallway. There was no rhyme or reason to the décor, just lots of interesting little knick-knacks, seemingly strewn about at random. The only thing I was able to glean from it all was that Susan must be well-traveled, what with all the tribal sculpture and pottery lying around. When the hallway finally ended, we found ourselves in front of an inconspicuous red door—okay, it was actually pretty conspicuous—but there was a deadbolt in place that needed to be unlocked before we could go inside. With a dramatic flourish, Susan reached into her cleavage and pulled out a little brass key on a gold chain. The door opened onto a flight of stairs and it was dark going down, but at the end of it all, Susan turned on the lights to reveal...

"The sex dungeon! Muhahahahaha!"

The dungeon was incredibly spacious. The walls were painted red and interspersed throughout were kink themed paintings and photographs, all professionally done. I'd always thought of porn as being rather crass, but this stuff was fucking classy: black and white contrast photos, textured oil paintings, even a welded sculpture of a naked lady in the corner. Impressive, very impressive. But it was the equipment that really caught my eye. Just a week ago, I wouldn't have been able to name half of the things in the room, but after watching all that porn, I felt like a kid in an exotic candy store. I'd never tried anything and I wanted to try everything: the spanking benches, the St. Andrew's cross, the spider web...

"There's even more in the barn," Susan bragged. "I had it converted into club space. We usually host our parties on Saturday."

"There's more?"

"I mean, I had to put the stockade somewhere."

"There's a stockade?"

"Oh, honey, you haven't seen anything yet." With a smile, Susan motioned for us to follow her toward a room in the far back. "Most club spaces don't have an entire room dedicated to sissification, but since it's my primary kink and I own the club, we sure as shit do."

Susan wasn't kidding. Three out of the four walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors—so that the victim could watch himself transform in real time—and the rest was painted a gorgeous conch-shell pink. There was a bondage table in one corner and in the other, a bondage chair with jointed legs and a vanity I'd kill to own. The center of the vanity was taken up by a huge mirror, framed with bright, bulbous lights and on either side, there were a dozen or so shelves displaying at least a few thousand dollars worth of high-quality makeup. There were two crock-pots atop it, too, but we wouldn't need them until later.

"You remember your safe word?" Susan asked, turning toward Thomas, and he nodded. "Good, what is it?"

"Yellow to reassess; red for a full stop."

"Excellent, and Erin?" Susan prompted, now looking over at me. "Remember, he's your boy, so ultimately, you're in charge, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, duh," I replied, though I wasn't feeling quite as confident as I sounded. "But, you know, I'm not opposed to some...mentorship, too, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, sure, we can do that," Susan nodded. "You wanna get us started?"

"Tommy, take your clothes off," I told him, gesturing toward the vanity with as much authority as I could muster. "Then fold them and set them down over there. And be quick about it, too."

"Pssh, you're being too easy on him. What's gonna happen if he's not quick enough? You have to lay out some consequences if you want to light a fire under his ass."

"Fair point."

"You ever use nipple clamps on Tommy?"

"No," I admitted. "But there's a first time for everything." I could picture it in my head now—Tommy squirming, his hands behind his head, as I teased and twisted the clamps—and I could feel a smile on my lips. "And Tommy's always been a bit touchy about his nipples."

"Jesus, I'm going as fast as I can!" Thomas cried, lifting his shirt up and over his head and almost getting stuck in the process. "Give me, like, two seconds, for god's sake!" I'd never seen him undress so fast, but in less than a minute, Thomas was down to his birthday suit and furiously folding his clothes.

"Very nice," Susan mused, and I could swear I saw her lick her lips. "Now, let's see about getting a better view." Grabbing Thomas by the arm, she led him below the industrial strength ceiling light, where it would be impossible to hide himself. "Come on, don't be shy, panty boy. Front and center! Us girls wanna see what we have to work with."

Thomas was blushing so furiously now, that I thought his head might implode from the sheer embarrassment, but he was covering his junk with his hands and we couldn't have that now, could we?

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You definitely don't get to cover yourself." Marching over to Thomas, I smacked his hands away and his cock sprung free, hard as a rock. The shit-eating grin on my face must have been award-worthy. "Uh oh, Tommy boy; you've been busted!"

"But it's not...I didn't..."

"Is this why you've been holding onto your prick? You don't want us to know how much of a slut you are?"

"No, no, I just—"

"Jesus, Tommy, there's so much blood rushing to your cheeks, I'm surprised there's enough left over to raise your cock; no wonder you can't form a complete sentence."

"They're so cute when they stutter like that," Susan grinned. "Poor thing's so hard, he can't even think straight."

"Is that true, Tommy? Is your cock so hard, you can't think straight?"

"That's not fair!" Thomas pouted, though I could tell by the slight smile on his lips and his still raging hard-on that he was loving this. "You guys are really mean!"

"Oh, come on, panty boy—stop whining and stand up straight!" Susan barked, and she smacked Thomas on the ass hard enough to leave a hand print. I watched in sadistic glee as he squealed out in pain, then stumbled forward a few steps and eventually landed on his knees. With a sigh, Susan rolled her eyes, then grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet. "Seriously, Tommy?"

"I'm...I'm sorry..."

"You literally have one job—just one job!—to stand up straight and look pretty for us, but you can't even do that right, can you?" Sheepishly, Thomas stared down into the floor, but at least now he wasn't slouching and his hands were by his sides. "That's better. What do you think, Erin?"

"He definitely has potential," I replied, circling Thomas and as I did so, admiring every inch of his beautiful body. Basking in the knowledge that it was mine. All mine. I ran my hands across his chest, his shoulders, his back, and watched in delicious fascination as he shivered against my touch. I reached around and felt his hard cock in my hands and stroked it a few times, before letting him go with a whimper. "Honestly, though? I wouldn't fuck him in a million years. Not like this." Thomas' face fell and my heart skipped a beat; I was loving all this...guilt-free power. "First things first, we have to get rid of all this body hair; it's disgusting."

"Alright, Tommy, you heard the lady," Susan began, grabbing Thomas by the back of the neck and pushing him toward the bondage table. "Lay down for me. You're gonna get a free full-body wax today. How lucky is that? My last one cost me almost a hundred and fifty bucks."

"A hundred and fifty bucks? Damn."

"I know, right?" Susan turned toward me, incredulous. "We're doing this poor, unkempt boy a huge favor and he doesn't even appreciate it!"

"Fucking rude!"

"Super rude!"

Thomas looked back over at me with pleading eyes, but again, I shook my head. While we'd been planning this elaborate scene, he'd confessed that a little reluctance—and even a little resistance—was a huge turn-on for him and I had to admit, it was a turn-on for me, too.

"Don't even start with those puppy dog eyes," I told him. "I don't feel sorry for you, not even a teeny-tiny bit. If I were to accidentally step on an ant, I'd feel more pity for it than I do for you."

"Savage, Erin, I like that."

"Panty boys need discipline," I shrugged and, turning toward Thomas, I gave him my most disapproving glare and pointed indignantly at the bondage table. "Quit fucking around, Tommy, and lie down; we don't have all day."

Looking a lot like a scolded child, Tommy walked over to the bondage table and though he hesitated, finally laid down. I could see his eyes anxiously roam the room, then stop at Susan, who was opening up a drawer in the vanity table. She pulled out four bundles of thick, black rope and tossed two of them over to me. They were very well made—I could feel the weight of them in my hands, definitely hemp—and as I started to untangle the first bundle, I could feel myself grow giddy.

I was ready for this part; I'd been practicing on myself all week.

I get to tie up a naked boy! Yes!

"After all," I told Thomas, sliding the rope between my fingers and giving him a long, hard look. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch and we can't have you struggling and fucking up all our work, can we?"

"Does...does it really hurt that bad?"

"Oh, yeah," I gloated. "Like a thousand tiny bee stings, except on your hairy ass and balls."

I watched as Thomas swallowed—hard—but he didn't use his safe word and he didn't move, so we were in the clear. While Susan walked around to the head of the bondage table, I went for Thomas' feet. He shivered beneath my touch as I grasped his ankle and began to run the rope over it—slowly, sensually. I wanted him to feel the coarseness of the fiber against his skin; I wanted him to savor the anticipation. Susan, on the other hand, wasted no time getting to work on Thomas' wrists and was done within seconds.

"Open your mouth," Susan ordered and Thomas obeyed, letting her shove a single roll of rope between his teeth. "Okay, now bite down. Hold it for me until I'm ready for it."

Once Thomas' ankles were finished off with a single column tie and a square knot, I got to work tying each one to opposite corners of the bondage table. When I was done, I pulled on each rope to ensure that the bands wouldn't tighten—that way, Thomas could still struggle without cutting off his circulation—and stepped back to admire my work. With Susan now finished, a limb was tied down at each corner of the table and Thomas was spread out like a starfish.

He looked so tasty, all naked and vulnerable, but he wasn't nearly naked enough. Not yet. Before the night was out, I wanted him pink as a freshly plucked chicken.

"Is this really necessary?" Thomas whispered, testing his range of motion and finding it quite limited. "It's...it's like a thousand tiny bee stings?"

"Men, they're all the same," Susan sighed, as if offended. "They just don't understand what it takes to be a woman."

"Oh, but they think they do; they think it's easy," I sneered, stepping over Thomas' head so that he could see beneath my skirt and the sheer pink panties I'd put on that morning. "Men don't appreciate all the pain we go through, just to look fuckable. All they do is complain, complain, complain! 'But you've been in there for an hour!' they whine. As if flawless makeup and hair are a cake walk. They don't get it, but you will, Tommy. You will."

"I mean we could use numbing cream," Susan suggested with a shrug. "But then we wouldn't get to hear all your lovely screams."

"His screams are fucking adorable," I added, watching as Thomas' eyes widened in horror. "And since we're in the middle of butt-fucking-nowhere, it's not like anyone will hear."

"It's saved me a ton on sound proofing," Susan agreed, and she turned back toward the vanity. "Now, how about those legs?"

Thomas and I watched as Susan opened the top drawer and pulled out three things: a box of vinyl gloves, a jar of wooden spatulas, and a bundle of waxing strips. With a sinister snap, Susan pulled the purple gloves over each hand and then took the lid off one of the crock-pots. The wax inside bubbled and hissed—like a witch's cauldron—and as she gathered a sizable portion onto her spatula, I could see the steam coming off of it in waves. It looked pretty intimidating and judging by the look on Thomas' face, he agreed.

"There are two types of wax," Susan explained, stepping toward Thomas. As she pressed the spatula to his left thigh, he jumped in his bonds and I had to suppress a snicker. We'd gotten the poor guy all riled up, but honesty, the wax wasn't that hot. In fact, I remembered the heat being rather soothing and as Susan spread it along his skin, I could see Thomas sink back into the table, relieved. "This is soft wax," Susan continued. "We use it for larger areas, like the legs, chest, and butt. The hard wax is for more sensitive areas, like the taint and balls." Thomas' eyes shot open and this time, I didn't suppress the snicker.

"Easy there, panty boy," Susan soothed, running her fingers through Thomas' hair and placing a soft, gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'll warn you before anything bad happens. This is the fun part. Just relax and enjoy it." Then, she turned toward me. "Why don't you go ahead and get his other leg, honey?"

I snapped on my own pair of vinyl gloves and dipped a wooden spatula into the bubbling, wet wax. This was the key to a good scene, Susan had told me: mixing fear and pain with pleasure. Stepping toward Thomas, I pressed the warm wax to his right thigh and slowly dragged the spatula against his skin, letting the heat soak into his body and erect little goose pimples in its wake. I could feel his muscles relax under my careful ministrations and as I laid down strip after strip of honey-scented wax—being sure to use a new spatula each time—I could hear him sigh and moan in pleasure. By the time I'd finished pressing the paper strips to his skin, Thomas was practically asleep, caught up in that light, bubbly head space that bottoms crave.

"You ready, panty boy?" I whispered, pressing my soft lips to his collarbone, and as I kissed my way up the side of his neck, I could feel him shiver. "You ready to be beautiful?"

"Yes..." Thomas groaned, and I pressed my lips to his.

As Susan ripped off the first strip of hair, I could feel Thomas scream into my mouth, his arms and legs straining desperately against his bonds. Then the second strip came off and as Thomas cried out, I shoved my tongue into his mouth and pressed my lips more firmly against his, forcing him to pleasure me even as he writhed in pain. As Susan, moved from his legs to his thighs—tearing the wax strips off in quick succession—I savored the taste of his anguish and grew wet.

And then, something inside of me—something perverse and dangerous—snapped.

"Mmmm...that was nice, panty boy," I sighed and, coming up for air, I turned toward Susan. "Do his chest for me, okay? I have an idea." As Susan began to lay down the wax, I carefully stepped out of my heels and then out of my panties, making sure that, even tied down, Thomas could watch me. Honestly, it was a relief to get out of them. The panties were already sweaty from a hard day of work—the office A/C unit had broken—and now, after that last kiss, they were even more wet. "Do you realize what your screams do to me?" I asked Thomas, pressing my soiled panties against his face and though he tried to turn away, I persisted. "Do you smell that? How dare you get me aroused when you're tied up and can't do anything about it. Do you understand the trouble you're in?"