I consider bailing out many times, but it is now Friday evening and here I am, punctually ringing Bill's doorbell then crossing the threshold and being led into his grubby lounge. The place seems even more unsavoury than last time.
As soon as I arrive Bill ushers me in and takes the wine I brought with me away to the kitchen, leaving just me and Vic. I nod acknowledgement, but he just looks at me coldly and thoughtfully.
I glance over at the sofa and see that it is covered with a black plastic sheet. It looks concerning, like some sort of medical setup or maybe something that gangsters might construct. It gives me the creeps to be honest. I nervously ask Vic why it is set up that way but he says that he was going to save that information as a surprise, though I've ruined that now. He makes me feel as if I am in the wrong for asking. I have disappointed him and I hope that I won't regret it.
Vic glares at me and tells me that since I am here, that counts as my consent to submission and that I can always fuck off at any time if that consent isn't given. And if I'm not going to fuck off, I had better stand still in front of him. Now!
I should have expected this, but I have only just got here and am not used to this sort of thing, so I am caught off guard by this brisk development. I'm a bit dazed really, expecting to be given at least a few minutes of warm-up, so there is a long pause as I try to process this information. He then fixes my eyes with his and slowly and impatiently speaks, with a distinct gap and rising volume and assertion between each word.
"Stand. In. Front. Of. Me. Right. NOW! CUNT!"
After some reflection, I do decide to obey (after all he does have a point about me turning up here knowing what I might encounter) and find that as punishment I have to stand for at least ten minutes before he speaks again. I keep looking at him hoping that something will happen or that I will be allowed to sit down, but no, I have to endure the wait. Bill returns at some point, but ignores us, leaving me at Vic's mercy. Not that Bill was ever going to be a likely ally.
"Remove your top, Cunt."
Vic's voice now has a slightly callous edge with a gruffer, even blunter tone.
Fear kicks in again, but at least the anticipation is over. My heart rate increases further as I lift my head to quickly look at him. He stares back, a slight smile forming on his lips. I instinctively lower my head.
"Get on with it! You have made it perfectly clear that you are submissive, SO FUCKING WELL SUBMIT! NOW!"
He spaces out the words menacingly. Each pause heightens my anxiety. I nibble my lip and stare in disbelief and fear. Now's the time to back out if I'm going to. I have the urge to flee, but my mind is muddled and it feels like I have almost no control over my actions, so I find myself undoing the buttons of my shirt one by one, quite slowly since my hands are trembling. When I have completed my task, I stand before Vic with my shirt neatly folded in my hands. Bill glances at us, amused.
I'm shivering uncontrollably now, but I'm pretty sure it isn't that cold. Ten minutes ago my heart was already beating rapidly, but not like this. The way my body is betraying me is embarrassing, but I can't help it. They are bound to have noticed.
Vic has noticed at least, since he grips my right nipple between his stubby fingers and slowly brushes, squeezes and finally twists it. I gasp and screw up my eyes. It hurts more than I expected. Bill is watching the show now, starting to show much more interest.
"Such cute, almost boyish little nipples you have. Look how much further this one sticks out now. Now that it is redder. It enjoys the attention and responds correctly. See, you can't hide your true nature. You'd have been even better when you were young, but you'll have to do. How old are you, cunt?"
"Fifty." I reply.
"Yes, you could pass for forty and maybe younger when I'm finished with you."
Vic's eyes are now narrowed and thoughtful as he says this. He's deliberately trying to embarrass me, but I get the impression he still likes what he sees and I feel very flattered. I must admit that I am quite attractive and slender for my age, really. It's good that he appreciates it.
"Thank you," I reply in a small voice.
"Now, be a good sissy for me and dispense with the rest of your clothes. Leave your panties on though and your trousers will remain around your ankles. Don't worry, we'll put your clothes in the bathroom and you can always go in there if any unexpected visitors arrive."
I blush at the suggestion. What's this? What visitors? I have barely been given time to think. It is also weird that he keeps calling me a sissy. That could be a bit creepy, but I am strangely pleased in some way, nonetheless. I hope that he doesn't mind that I am wearing normal underwear. I tell him that I have never undressed in front of men before, but he says: "What's that got to do with anything, cunt? Just submit. Got it? Or don't you know the meaning of words? YOU ARE SUBMISSIVE. SO, YOU WILL SUBMIT WHEN I TELL YOU TO. CUNT!"
I don't have a good answer to that. I do try to think of one, but come up empty, so once stripped to my briefs, I stand before him, still trembling, trying to look as good as I can, head instinctively lowered again. I'm excited in so many ways and my heart is pounding, but am not actually hard, though there are stirrings. I have the natural urge to step out of my trousers but fight that urge for him. I have the urge to flee too. Do I really want to be controlled by Vic? I'm confused, but very stimulated.
"Good sissy! Stand right there until I tell you otherwise. You'd better get used to this as it is going to be one of your rituals. It will become a tradition. Carrying it out correctly increases the chance that I can trust you to be reliable. These rites will gradually become an instinctive part of your memory, of your very self and when that is achieved you will be ready for the next stage: the initiation rites. Now, bow and cast your eyes downwards then repeat what I say. Deeply contemplate the meaning of these words as you speak them three times."
"I surrender. As above, so below."
WTF! He's clearly some sort of nut job. What on earth have I got myself into? I stare in confusion for a few seconds, but resignedly, feeling ridiculous and trying not to laugh, lest he be offended, I nonetheless do as requested and bow down and then say the words, three times in all. Each time I repeat the words, it feels as if they slightly lose some meaning in some way due to the repetition. Accordingly, I find them a little easier to say, but deep down the gist is clear enough and I tremble when I ponder this.
"Good sissy. Now, sit down on your plastic sheet and contemplate, feel the meaning and the implications of the ideas represented by the words as they pass deep inside you. The ideas I am imparting will worm their way in and occupy some part of your mind and thus some part of your physical brain. Yes, that's right, your brain will actually be altered by me! A bit like the way some viruses infect and influence their hosts or one of those wasps that hijacks spiders, turning them into zombies. There are also many animals that have their minds influenced by parasites of course. You should look it up one day. You already crave me, that's why you are here now, obviously. That addiction is only going to increase."
I pause and look at him. He's a bit mad and creepy, but even that appeals to me at this moment. Maybe he does have special powers. I was hoping that he would allow me to put my clothes back on, but that feeble hope is dashed. Not that I was that confident. Yes, it was a forlorn idea. I look again and then nervously sit down there self-consciously in my underwear, with my trousers around my ankles still. Immediately, the plastic sticks to my thighs and I feel unsettled, uneasy but alert.
Even though the words I was persuaded to incant are a strange mix of the ridiculous and the sinister, the act of having said them has had some effect on me, though it may just be the whole scenario that is making me feel a little detached and disoriented. It is weird. I suppose it is quite like the traditional 'being led by one's cock' scenario, but it isn't quite like that, or at least not just that. He is confusingly right, as his ideas do feel a bit like they have become a parasite inside my head. I do have a craving that feels like it has been implanted, but it is still also my craving, my addiction. I can feel it right now, it is already in me, part of me. He's changing me and I am allowing it, enabling it; embracing it in fact. I shudder at the potential consequences and yet I do absolutely nothing to oppose him, nor do I want to.
I am left in my undressed state, shivering slightly. The indignity of it all! As an adult I'd never before taken my clothes off in front of any males and can't help but feel nervous and uneasy; I even used to avoid it in changing rooms for sport. They both glance at me occasionally, presumably to check on me, but they generally ignore me. At the first break, Vic bids me to stand again and to be honest, I am cheered and gratefully relieved by the suggestion. I carefully detach the sticky plastic from under my thighs and buttocks, feeling slightly tacky from it in both senses.