Freedom is Slavery (12 page)

How could Tony know about this? What was he going to do? Did this mean I’d get fired? My spine turned to ice.

He read the deluge of emotions that washed my face and smiled a Cheshire grin. "I’ll keep my mouth shut, if you do some things for me."

Homework? Wash his car? Pick out his clothes? Whatever it was, the humiliation of being fired or even simply accused at work and the rumors that would fly around school were too much. Anything he required was acceptable.

"S-s-sure," I stammered. "Whatever you’d like, Tony, if we can just keep this between you and me."

"It’s pretty simple. I just want you to take off your clothes and put on this outfit," he said with a wry grin, indicating a blouse and skirt that were laid out on the couch next to him.

Were they here all the time? I realized that I hadn’t taken my eyes away from him since I sat down. Looking up at him, the glare of the fluorescent lights behind him partially masking his face in silhouette, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Could I do both? I really should do neither. I really should just do what he wants me to do. Why does he want me to do this? Is he gay? Would I be if I did this? How does this relate to the calculator? Will he really keep quiet? What happens after I put on those clothes? Have I already decided that I’m going to do it?

I must have, my hands are unbuttoning my shirt. I’m standing up. He’s back now and giving me room. Sitting down on a barstool and taking me in. Fuck. He probably sees naked guys all the time in the showers. He
is
a football player.

Wait, he’s not gay, he’s got a girlfriend. I’ve seen him with Laura, the cheerleader. But why do this? This blouse feels cold against me. Is it the material? What is this material? I didn’t look at the tag. I hope it fits. Why? Fuck.

Okay, part one is done...shirts off, blouse on. Should I turn around while I take my pants off? Does he want my socks off too? Okay, socks off.

If I turn around I’m showing my ass. If not I’m showing my cock. I’ve never let anyone see me naked before. Maybe this blouse will cover me up. How about I just follow my pants to the ground here and put the skirt next to it and try to just hop over so he can’t see anything below the waist? Okay, I’ll try.

Fuck! This is more difficult than I thought. Okay, pull up the skirt quick. Get it up and get it buttoned. This stuff fits better than it should. Did he know my size? Whose clothes are they? Laura’s? His sister’s? His mom’s? This is just wrong.

What the hell am I doing here? What is that he’s got?

The light of a thousand suns crisped my eyes. At least that’s how it felt. It was only a simple flash bulb from a camera but the shock of it and the implications left me stunned. Tony shook the resultant Polaroid and admired the image that shone through the fuzz of chemicals.

"Very nice. I figured a prick like you had done something wrong at work. I don’t care what it is. I just wanted to get this," he said, holding up the picture. "Let’s call it ‘insurance.’"

He snapped another picture of me and I felt a tear run down my cheek.

"Don’t cry, little girl," he said mockingly. He walked closer, snapping another photo, throwing he Polaroids randomly around the room as if to make them impossible to pick up if I tried to grab them all and run. Each flash brought more heat and more tears to my cheeks. I couldn’t believe that I was crying or that I was here in a skirt and blouse.

What nightmare was this? Would I awake soon?

He grabbed my chin in his meaty hand and lifted my head up, making me look once again into his eyes. I saw something there that I had never seen before and it terrified me. If I had to put a name to it, I could only call it "lust."

"How many pictures did I just take of you?" He demanded to know.

I shook my head and admitted that I had lost count.

"That’s right," he said, "You don’t know. You’ll never know if I’ve destroyed them all or have kept some to show around. All you can do is hope. Hope and agree to do whatever I tell you to do. Is that understood?" I faltered and he asked again, "Is that understood?"

"Y-y-yes... It’s understood," I said, admitting defeat.

"Good..." he said and chuckled. I had never heard Tony chuckle before and the sound was one I didn’t want to hear again anytime soon. It had a malicious tinge to it that bespoke of horrors I couldn’t begin to contemplate.

"Lift up your skirt," he said, sitting back down again.

I put my hands to the hem of the skirt and raised the material. It was then that I realized that I could see myself clearly in the mirrors behind his family’s well-stocked bar. I was looking at myself looking at myself, the back of Tony’s head also reflected in the expanse. What I couldn’t believe—I had to look down to confirm it—is that my cock was completely engorged as if it had a mind of its own and found this whole situation to be a turn-on.

"That’s what I thought I’d see... you little faggot," Tony said with slight derision. He snapped another photo and discarded the picture behind the couch to my right. He got up and sat on this couch and snapped yet another photo. My skirt was still up, I clutched the material in my hands, almost wringing it in embarrassment.

He leaned over and picked up a remote, turning on some music, and pushing the small table in front of him to the side, clearing the way.

"Get over here and face me."

I turned and stepped forward, my skirt still up.

He smiled. "From now on," he said, "I fucking own you. Every day after school you’re going to come over here and you’re going to put on what I tell you to put on or do anything else I tell you to do. Otherwise, those pictures are going to be plastered all over the place. You got it?"

"Yes..."

"Good... Now get down on your knees in front of me."

More than a command, this was almost a relief as my knees felt like jelly. I practically collapsed between his spread knees. However, in my heart I knew what was coming next and I didn’t know if I could take it.

Tony undid the button on his jeans and unzipped his pants. For as tall and broad as he was, the lump under his underwear didn’t betray his size. He unleashed this beast and I gulped at the size of it.

"Come over here...closer and kiss my cock."

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, kissing his cock like my girlfriend’s hand. I kissed it softly, amazed at how tender the flesh felt. I felt his hands cupping my ears and pulling me down. Without a choice, I opened my mouth and let him enter me. He pulled me down and down and down, the flesh of his cock entering me deeply. I kept my mouth closed, not wanting to admit that I was doing this.

I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear a small moan escape from his lips as my tongue swirled along the underside of his cock. He pulled me back up and pushed me back down. I was glad he didn’t try to pull me all the way down to take him all in—perhaps Laura had taught him that his cock was simply too large for that. He began fucking himself with my mouth. Up and down I went, being pulled and pushed by the ears. My hands rested on his thighs.

Faster and faster I went until, unexpectedly, he moaned loudly and filled my mouth with what seemed like an endless stream of hot, salty semen. I gulped this down, trying to get the taste out of my mouth as soon as I could. He pulled me down again and I sucked out the rest of his cum like I was sucking snake venom out of a wound.

He pulled me off of him and did up his pants in a hurry. He used his remote control again to turn off the music and turn on the TV set. There, on the set, was a framed close up of me with Tony’s cock deep in my mouth being pulled up and down; an instant replay of the last fifteen minutes.

The taste of his cum still fresh in my mouth, Tony went over to the TV to pop out the VHS tape of my escapades and said, "In case the photos weren’t enough motivation."

He left the room as I started changing back into my school clothes and I found my way out of his house, closing the front door behind me. It wasn’t until the next day at school when I saw the grin on his face in advanced algebra class that I began to really believe that all of this had truly happened to me and would again in just a few short hours.

Billy was Tony Fox’s bitch. Billy thought he was the only one.

Billy wore a pair of black lace bikini panties, a matching garter belt, stockings, short skirt, and a sheer crop top. Using the mirror behind the well-stocked basement bar, he finished applying his makeup; painting his lips with the bright crimson lipstick Tony liked so well.

Turning to face him on the couch, Billy blushed. Tony was smiling at him with a mixture of self-assuredness and lust. Tony knew that Billy was his. He was stroking his thick cock as he ordered Billy to lift up his skirt. Billy was hard, the head of his erection poking out the top of his panties.

"It’s time for worship, bitch," Tony growled.

Billy sat down; smoothing out his skirt, trying to be the prettiest girl he could be for Tony. He leaned over to kiss Tony but he wasn’t having it. Instead, Tony grabbed his head and forced him down onto Tony’s cock. Billy took it, gladly. It filled his mouth and he began to work the head of it with his tongue, his lips locked around the rim.

Tony used a remote control to turn on the VCR. The flickering images drew Billy’s eyes up to the images on screen and he almost choked on Tony’s cock when he saw Louis from his advanced algebra class! There on screen was Louis, lifting up his skirt just as Billy had done. Louis was crying and Tony snapped a picture of him. It must have been Louis’s first time with Tony; Billy remembered crying just like that the first time Tony had used him too.

Billy felt a twinge of jealousy. He’d always had a secret crush on his classmate but never thought that Louis would ever swing that way. Now Billy was watching him with a mouth full of cock and wished that he was in Louis’s mouth. Louis was pretty but Billy knew he’d look prettier soon enough. Tony would remake Louis into the kind of girl Tony likes. Louis would have to start shaving his legs, learn how to apply his own makeup, and expand his wardrobe to include more sexy lingerie.

Billy began to fantasize what it would be like to suck Louis’s cock. He began working Tony’s massive tool with fervor. Tony rewarded him with a hot mouth load of cum which Billy swallowed greedily.

When he had recovered, Tony told Billy to "Get dressed and get out."

Feeling like a cheap whore, Billy asked, "What about tomorrow?"

"I’ll let you know," Tony replied and, looking at the television he added, "I’ve got a new bitch to train."

Slipping on his jeans and jersey, Billy rubbed his still-hard cock. He knew that he wasn’t jealous of Tony being served by Louis. Rather, Billy had longed for Louis before he even knew what kind of fun he could have with another man. Perhaps once Louis had gotten a good taste of lace, Billy could approach him and share his secret. He could almost feel Louis’s hand on him...

The world exploded in a flash of white as Billy loosed his orgasm onto the tile of the changing area. He hadn’t realized that he was touching himself enough to make himself cum. He panicked, wondering if Tony had heard him. When no inquiry came, Billy wiped up the floor, zipped up his pants, and left, hoping to come back to Tony’s basement again soon.

I’d been serving... and servicing... Tony Fox for four weeks. I had to go over to his house three times a week where I did anything he commanded. Even when I wasn’t with him he had me wearing panties, garters, and stockings under my clothes. I was petrified to use the boys’ room, afraid that someone would see what I had on under my khakis.

I felt like everyone must know. Like I had it written across my forehead in blazing, scarlet letters: "FAG." Tony didn’t treat me anything differently. He still ignored me at school. And, while I thought I sensed something different about Tony’s girlfriend, Laura, I’m sure I was just reading into things.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Billy Chbowsky had been acting far more friendly than he used to do.

Billy hadn’t interacted with me much in the four years that we’d been attending high school together. He was on the track team, or was it swimming? Anyway, we were in different cliques. He would occasionally join me in a joke at our teachers’ expense but he always seemed just a little, I dunno, awkward or something. And, for the last few weeks, he’d seemed even stranger. I would be sitting in class and suddenly feel prickles on my neck. I’d turn quickly to catch a glimpse of Billy’s eyes on me. Did he know? How could he?

The relationships with my friends had gotten strained over the last month. I was being evasive, unable to hang out every night after school as I once had. I used to spend my afternoons and evenings watching MTV or going to the mall. Now that time was spent on my knees, sucking cock.

I still spent lunch period with my friends. We were an odd mixture of nerds, skate rats, and freaks. If we had one thing in common it was that we were goody-two-shoes in regards to drugs and drinking, probably since each of us came from a home where a parent or sibling was an abuser. That led to the silliness of a "drinking contest" one Friday afternoon at lunch.

I don’t remember who started it but, before I knew it, six or seven of us had juice boxes with the lids ripped off, filled with water from the drinking fountain. Rather than whiskey, we were slamming shots of water. Not difficult at first, surely, but after twenty or twenty five, people started dropping out. It was only the bell that saved a few bladders from bursting.

As I limped to class, cramping, I cursed myself for having played along. There was no avoiding the boys’ room now. I ducked in, hoping to empty my bladder fast and get to class in time. Even as I pulled down my panties, the bell rang. I heaved a satisfied and resigned sigh as the urine began to stream.

"What color panties are you wearing?" came a voice that froze me, painfully, mid-pee. I didn’t know what to do. I stood frozen, as if in a bear attack, hoping that whoever spoke would simply go away.

"He has me in pink, most of the time," the voice continued, "but I see you as more of a red or black."