*** Chapter Seven of Pony Boy ***
Once again, appologies for the wait. I hope you think it's worth it.
As ever, if you're new to this story please don't start here. It won't make much sense and won't be anything like as good if you miss the build up. Meanwhile, despite the title, there's no pony play in this chapter. In fact, it explores Ben's other little foible and might almost fit better under Transsexuals & Crossdressers. However, it's still a gay male story so that's where it goes.
Enjoy
***
Sunday was, at last, a day off and, while I still had to make yet another trip to the laundrette, that gave me some time to catch up with my course work. Or so I thought. I couldn't concentrate as my mind kept running over the implications of what I had got myself into.
I couldn't stop thinking about what Jed had said back in his flat. "You'll take whatever Mr. Mason tells you to take and you'll keep on taking it for as long as you're earning him money. He was making a fortune out of you as a pony boy and now that he's got Belinda fucking Bombshell he'll make even more."
Jed couldn't have put it any clearer than that. Every time I went out, as a pony, or as a rent boy, or as Belinda Bombshell, I was making money for Mr. Mason and there was no way he was going to let me off the hook. What is more, the more I went out the more I earned. When I had first agreed to work for him he had assured me that it would be an occasional thing, once a week at most, and that, importantly, it wouldn't interfere with my degree. If the last few days were anything to go by then that was a million miles from the truth. I would be far too busy working for Mr. Mason to attend to my coursework, my friends, or even my family. Easter was only a couple of weeks away and I still hadn't told my parents that I wouldn't be coming home.
That brought on another wave of despair. What on earth was I going to tell my parents? I was certainly desperate to keep the two halves of my life completely separate. I was horrified by the thought of my mum finding out what her son was doing for a living and I certainly didn't want her, or my kid sister, to meet Archie under any circumstances. Look at Jed, locked away in his fortress, no sign of friends, partner, or family. Was that where I was heading? It looked like a distinct possibility. On the other hand, what choices did I have? Mr. Mason had made it quite clear that any attempt to get away would be met by violence and, right from the start, Archie had threatened not just myself but my family as well. If I were to go home for Easter I would end up taking Archie with me.
But, however much I might have to lie to my parents there was no way I could continue lying to myself. I simply had to face up to what I had become. But it wasn't just that I was a rent boy, a prostitute, or a sex worker, to use that rather anodyne PC phrase, it was the way I was totally under the control of my pimp, and there was no other word for what Mr. Mason was to me. I went where he told me and, when there, willingly did whatever was asked of me. If I were to avoid Mr. Mason's wrath then I had to be pleasing, compliant and available. I had to do whatever the punters wanted and look like I was loving it. Saying 'no' to a punter would be just the same as saying 'no' to Mr. Mason and he had made it quite clear that was not an option.
But that was only part of the picture. Up until all this had started I had been a virgin in every sense of the word. My sexual experience had been limited to a few clumsy fumbles and I had been insecure and unsure of myself. For all my boasting and bravado in front of my friends I had never really been into girls nor had I made any sense of my confused feelings from the changing room showers.
In a few short weeks all that had completely changed. Whilst I still wasn't as experienced as Jed or Carl I was no longer a stranger to sex, weird sex, kinky sex and above all, gay sex. There was no confusing my feelings now. I was definitely and unashamedly gay. And I wasn't just gay, I was very definitely a 'bottom'. I loved to be held, taken, ravished. I loved the feel of another man's prick filling up my backside which, given what I had become, was a pretty good job. While I was starting to truly despise the simpering tart I was forced to play I wasn't entirely lying when I told the punters I loved being taken by a 'real man'.
And, talking of simpering tarts, there was the whole Belinda Bombshell thing. If ever there was a poisoned chalice it was that one. One spur of the moment dance routine with Jed to get us out of a fix had led directly to my being sodomised on stage for the enjoyment of others. Even then, it wasn't so much the stage show that I minded but the expectations that came along with it. Belinda Bombshell was, to use the Chinese expression, the bus that everyone rides. It's hard to maintain any self respect when you're on your knees in the gents toilets giving a blow job to yet another stranger.
But, much as I hated Belinda, if it hadn't been for her I might never have discovered that special little thrill I get whenever I wear women's clothing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a girl, I don't want to be a girl, I like being a boy and I really love having a penis but when I put on my panties I feel more comfortable, I feel more like the 'real' me. And then the buzz I had got from wearing drag in public, from sitting in the pub with Tracy, that was hard to describe.
I stared at the tumble dryer and watched my clothes going round and round. I had, on a whim, bought a six pack of panties but even that was barely sufficient given the use they were currently taking. Moreover I only had one smart set of clothes and only one Belinda outfit. If, as looked likely, I were to end up working three or four times a week, maybe even more, I would need more. That was going to hit me hard. Mr. Mason had made it quite clear that any further clothing would have to come out of my own pocket. My wages, which had seemed so fantastic back at the start, were a great deal less generous now that I had so many expenses.
Monday morning found me down at the gym. Mr. Mason stopped by and had a long chat with Albert about my training. They called me over and had me strip and pose while they looked me over. The main gist of their conversation was that Mr. Mason wanted me fit to run as a pony boy but, now that Belinda had turned out to be such a good earner, he didn't want me over muscled. "They're paying for a naughty schoolgirl, not some Russian shot putter," was the way he put it.
"If that's what you want how about we give him a nice pair of tits?" Albert replied coming around behind me and cupping my pecs as if to demonstrate. "I know a guy who can get hold of this hormone treatment. Costs a bob or two but works a treat. Have him swelling up in no time. Of course you need surgery to get anything that fills a bra but that costs money."
I stood aghast as Mr. Mason seemed to think this over.
"Nah, that's not what I'm after. Not for this one, not yet anyway. He makes too much as a pony boy and that wouldn't work if he had tits. Anyway, there are plenty of punters who want a boy in panties, that's what turns them on," Mr. Mason said, much to my relief. "Just don't make him too muscled, that's all."
And, with that, Mr. Mason was off.
It was only a couple of hours later when I met Mr. Mason again. I had gone round to Mr H's office to sort out the money he owed me and found Mr. Mason there as well. What with Thursday night, Friday and Saturday there was quite a bit owing although it did turn out to be less than I might have hoped for. Although Len Phillips was apparently more than happy with the way I had 'looked after' Mr Shoesmith, his financial expression of this didn't match what I had earned the previous week after servicing so many clients. Also it turned out that Mr Robbins and his friends had been less than forthcoming in the tipping department. Still, all in all, there were several hundreds to add to my stash.
"What's all this about you turning up here in drag," Mr. Mason asked once the money was sorted. "Tracy tells me you two went out for a drink together, all girly girly like."
"I needed to prove to her that I could do my own makeup," I replied. "I thought that, if I could wear it out in the street...."
"Oh, I think it's more than that. Every time I see you you're wearing panties. You're wearing them now, aren't you?"
I just blushed as everyone laughed.
"Actually, I can use that. If you're good enough in drag to go out for drinks with Tracy, then you're probably good enough to go out with punters. I've got one or two customers who would love to be seen around town with Belinda Bombshell on their arm. They'll pay extra for that."
"But I haven't got the clothes," I protested. "When I went out with Tracy I was just in jeans and a sweatshirt. It's one thing to nip across to the pub over the road, quite another to go out to some West End hotel."
"If you haven't got the clothes then you'll just have to go out and buy some," Mr. Mason spoke as if explaining to a small child. "Do I have to do everything for you?"
"But I don't know where...."
"Then you had better find out where and find out fast."
"Tracy knows the right places," Mr H. took pity on me. "Hang on a second."
He buzzed the intercom and Tracy appeared at the door.
"Ben needs to go shopping and I want you to go with him," Mr. Mason said as she entered.
"What sort of shopping?"
