Chapter 12
Bradford Hudson had considerable time to "think about it." The madame left him hanging in his muscle-wracking chain harness for two hours while she "entertained" an unseen girl in the parlor. She had changed from the spiked costume into a less threatening fetish. She had also left the door open a crack so that he could hear the girl being spanked on the bare ass--and hear, too, her expressive cries of pleasure.
In that time, Hudson could only agonize his painful restraint, the outer sounds, and his reflection in the mirror opposite him. It was a bizarre image if ever he had seen one: his body, stretched and spread; his eyes ringed and hollow; his complexion sallow; his cheeks gaunt; and his cock--his once, proud cock--pinched and cowering. It was a sight that would have sent most men into screaming delirium. Hudson found it perversely exciting. He could hardly wait for Britt Martel to return and whip him once more.
She fulfilled his expectations in spades. She used a long, thick whip that made terrifying whistling sounds as it slashed toward his helpless, quaking ass. At one point, she threatened to gag him if he didn't stop screaming. Somehow, he managed to stifle his anguished outbursts and, in the end, was able to tell her again that the whipping had thrilled him.
Hudson was not allowed to return to his own room that night. Released from the shackles, he was put into the stocks which were the baseboard of the bed. He knelt at the foot and placed his neck and wrists in the holes; the hinged top piece clamped him in and was padlocked. Since the holes of the stocks were just above the mattress on the bed side, he could rest his head but was still forced to retain his body in a confining kneeling and crouching position on the floor. It was made even more awkward and uncomfortable due to the rounded pole, similar to the top of a broom handle, that the madame inserted in his asshole. And, if this wasn't enough to insure a fitful rest for Hudson, she required him to lick and suck her toes while she fell asleep. Eventually, he too found sleep mainly out of exhaustion.
In the morning, he was awakened by a loud crack and a searing pain that flashed through his ass and up his spine. The first words he heard were the madame screaming, "You miserable cunt!" To his horror, he realized that he had a morning erection, a frequent occurrence of Hudson's awakenings. Before he could protest that it was a phenomenon out of his control, she yanked the pole out of his ass cruelly.
"Pull your knees back and stick your cunt in the air!" she ordered shrilly. "I can just imagine what kind of dreams you were having. Well, you won't have those kind anymore! I have a way to take care of that."
He could not see her, but he knew she was preparing to whip him. He pushed his ass up and out to gratefully receive the blows and already his erection was diminishing. It did not matter to the madame, however. He took the first vicious crack of a strap directly in the crotch. The pain was so intense that when his lips flew open, the scream caught in his throat. His dangling balls had borne the brunt of the blow. It was a pain like no other he had ever known. It was a pain so intense that his whole nervous system nearly went into shock. He could not speak or cry. He could not even move, except for the convulsive spasms that jangled him. Then the madame proceeded to strap his ass and thighs. By comparison, he felt immense relief. She stopped, some fifteen strokes later, only when his cock had shriveled to less than a third of its erect size.
The madame allowed him bathroom privileges, then ordered him to dress. "I'm sending you to Miss Hutton," she said sternly. "She's expecting you and it's all arranged. You're to do exactly as she tells you, and you're to allow her to do anything she pleases. When she's through with you, report back here immediately."
Hudson could not imagine why he was being sent to the school dispensary. If the madame had arranged for the lesbian nurse and gym teacher to use him as an object of humiliation, such as Miss Duke had, he would have thought her quarters would have been more appropriate. But he was beyond questioning anything that happened at Mt. Arcadia. He entered the dispensary and she was waiting for him, dressed in a white nurse's smock.
"Come in but don't sit down," she said and moved behind him to lock the door. "Skin down. You can hang your clothes up on that rack." There was no rancor in her voice or attitude. If anything, she seemed to be bemused but was at the same time being professional.
Hudson was in a small waiting room which also served as Miss Hutton's office. "In there," she gestured when he was naked. He walked into the dispensary room. He quickly looked for odd paraphernalia that would indicate something sexual was about to happen. There seemed to be none. The room was typically antiseptic with bottle-filled cabinets, hospital sink, sterilizer, and an examination table covered with a white sheet.
"All right, let me have a look at you," Miss Hutton said. She walked around him as he stood and began touching him. She stroked his thighs and testicles, she ran a finger quickly up the crevice of his ass. Her hand rubbed his belly and brushed the hair on his chest. Then she ran her knuckles over his cheeks and jaw. "It shouldn't be too hard. Thank God you're not an ape."
Hudson was bewildered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know why I'm here."
"Why, I'm going to shave you, that's why. Your body hair ... all of it. Then we're going to start treating you with a depilatory to prevent regrowth. The beard will be the toughest. You're going to have to be very careful about shaving for a while. The rest though, including the hair on your balls, we should be able to take care of in short order."
"I... I don't understand," he sputtered.
The nurse lifted an eyebrow and curled a lip. "Oh, you understand all right. When the madame says you're going to be a cunt, you're going to be a cunt all the way. Welcome to the club, honey. Now get on the table. We're going to have to do this in sections."
He could not believe what was happening, yet there was a certain deliciousness to it. After seeing the madame's absolutely hairless cunt, he had even wondered what it would be like to be smooth himself. It would have to be the essence of flesh to flesh. With that imagery floating in his brain, he lay back while Miss Hutton, with hot lather and towels and razor, stripped his skin from his cheeks to his toes. The most exciting part to him was when she worked on his crotch and ass. He could feel the pubic hair above his cock come off in large tufts. But up the crevices and around his balls, the razor snicked away in tiny strokes. The fringe of hair around his asshole presented the most difficulty and he was required to crouch on the table and present a fantastic spread. He knew that to certain souls it would be an exciting sight. Even Miss Hutton was not immune. After she had lathered and shaved him, she could not resist jabbing a finger up his asshole.
"Pretty tight for a cunt," she commented, "but not much of an asshole."
Hudson flushed with resentment. The dyke bitch, what did she know? He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her to keep her fingers and her comments to herself.
When the shaving was completed, a wave of utterly new sensual pleasure swept over him. It was a narcissistic delight to be so profoundly nude. He felt himself all over with gentle caresses. He paraded in front of the mirror and struck poses.
"Okay, princess," Adele Hutton sighed, "you're not through yet." She proceeded to cover his body with a cream that had little odor but caused his skin to warm and tingle. She gave him two extra jars and explained that the depilatory had to be applied once every twenty-four hours. At week's end, he would still require another body shave. Then she produced a vial of capsules and had him take two then and said that they would help the depilatory on an internal basis. Hudson promised sincerely that he would be very diligent in following instructions. He dressed quickly, anticipating the madame's reaction to his extreme new nudity. He thanked Miss Hutton profusely.
On the way out the door, she winked at him and said, "Don't take any shit from the boys, sweetheart."
The madame was patently pleased with the results. She had Hudson parade up and down before her and go through a series of leg-lifting and bending calisthenics after which she pronounced the operation a success. Then she opened a wardrobe door that revealed a chest of drawers. From this she produced a pair of stockings and a garter belt. She tossed them to Hudson. "Your first nylons. Go on, put them on."
He was actually trembling with excitement. He pulled the sheer, clinging material over his calves and thighs. When the garter belt was in place, he stole a look in the mirror. When he held his hand over his cock and balls, he was amazed at how feminine he looked from the waist down. Next he was given a pair of high heels. The fit on his foot was perfect but he could not walk on the four-inch heel. He teetered and wavered like a drunk. He was mortified, and the madame gave no indication that she was amused. "You'll learn damn quickly," was her only comment. Next came a pair of panties, bikini style made of strong elastic fabric. When he squeezed into them, he discovered that they effectively compressed the bulge of his cock and balls so that it appeared that he had nothing more than a prominent vaginal mound.
The bra was another matter. Hudson's pectoral muscles were not soft. The madame first tried him in a tight, uplift type bra that pushed the breast into a mound, but it was not enough to satisfy her. She then equipped him with a set of falsies and a full bra shaped so that only the closest inspection would reveal the truth.
"Now you're beginning to look like a cunt," she gloated. "Get over to the dressing table and we'll finish off the rest of you."
She gave him the works: makeup base, powder, lipstick, eye shadow, and false eyelashes. She plucked his eyebrows and applied pencil. She shadowed his face and narrowed his nose and lessened the masculine line of his jaw. She applied long, false fingernails to his own. The final touch was a brunette wig fashioned in a flamboyant swirl of curls.
He could not believe it. The transformation was stupendous. He stared at the strange but familiar image in the mirror, an image with breasts and apparently no cock, and he whispered to himself, Cunt, cunt, cunt! He sorely wished that one of the madame's girls would arrive, strap on an artificial cock, and ream him until his ass exploded. Of course, the ultimate pleasure would be for the madame herself to do it. Second best to that fucking would be a nice warm session with the whip. Nothing too punishing, just enough to experience the heat in his new body and his new role.
The madame had other plans, however. She ordered Hudson back to the dressing table. He was ordered to remove the wig, the fingernails, and the eyelashes, wash off all his makeup with cold cream, and begin again by himself. It sounded relatively easy, and he went at it without hesitation. When he was through, she slapped his face. "I want you to look like a cunt, not a circus clown!" she snapped. "Now do it again."
Chagrined, he started over. Upon completion, she slapped his face again and accused him of looking like the comic impersonation of a drunken streetwalker. Before he was allowed to start the third time, she ordered him to practice walking in the high heels. And so it went for the entire afternoon, evening, and late into the night. Even at the end, she was unsatisfied. She gave him a cursory whipping with a riding crop that did not quench the bizarre yearnings of his psyche. When she sent him to his own quarters, it was with a box of silky panties of all styles.
"I never want to see or hear of another pair of men's underwear next to that filthy, useless cock."