The Club Of Fools Ch 03

Author's Notes (similar to chapter 2) :

(1) Please read chapter one and two. I like to tell a story sprinkled with erotica, in contrast to erotica sprinkled with a faint storyline.

(2) This is FICTION.

(3) There are bizarre scenes herein, sexual to some, perhaps horrifying to others.

(4) Please be aware that Victoria's activities are illegal. She is a female sadist and psychopath. But keep in mind she is loyal to her friends.

(5) Many will question the possibility of this plot ever happening in real life. But just ask the question: COULD it happen? And the answer is: yes it could. Having said that, that's all I need to tell a story.

(6) Finally, always remember that truth is stranger than fiction.

*****

Jason's week was hectic, for no other reason other than he was distracted. Although his case load was small for this time of the year, he found himself daydreaming in court a little too often, sometimes with embarrassing results.

"Does the defense wish to question the crown's witness?" The judge asked this twice, the second time a little more loudly than the first.

Jason had been staring at a painting on the wall of a 19th century woman in some British house. She was clearly corseted, and he was wondering what that would feel like, to be corseted like that. He would soon know, because Victoria was going to have him bound into a bondage corset. What was her vision of a bondage corset he wondered?

"What?" he asked, momentarily confused, "Oh, yes your honor, I do..." He quickly regained his lawyer's acuity and carried on, but he made a mental note that he had to give more effort to his now divided life, both sides of it.

When Friday came, he found himself nervous, and to his surprise, hopeful that Victoria would use him in some bizarre way like the week before. Many nights he had stared at the cage which surrounded his penis, knowing that it could be freed with just a small snip of the scissors on the plastic tag, but he refrained because...well, because it felt erotic to be forced to leave it the way it was, for fear of her "dreaded" consequences.

His heart was racing and his breath was rapid as he gave himself the enema and inserted the heavy steel butt plug that Friday at 2:15. He finished early and it was too soon to present himself to her, so he thought he would enjoy a small glass of wine on his deck on an unusually warm October afternoon. He poured himself a nice glass of Viognier and walked out to feel the late afternoon sun on his face, sitting down a little too quickly on the deck chair. The anal plug twisted and then pushed against his prostate causing him first to gasp, then to moan softly, as memories flooded back to him of last weekend. The bondage had been so absolute and exquisite and he had obviously pleased Victoria, because she had told him that he had given orgasms to everyone involved, whether it was through the pegging or other means. The one dark cloud was being Dougie's bitch. That bothered him; he was not gay. But at least, he thought, with his head covered as it was with the hood and the wax, he was anonymous. Anonymity gives us all courage, he thought.

Eventually the sun became obscured by thick black clouds and the warmth left him waiting for winter. He shivered and stood, feeling the plug shift once again. Jesus, he thought; this wasn't so bad; this whole predicament wasn't so bad. Very expensive, but not unpleasant otherwise. He made sure he had the $1,300 in cash that Victoria required this week and thought to himself that wives cost at least this much and there was so much baggage with being married. This was great; he could pay $1,000 a week and have all the kinky sex that he wanted. Not bad, not bad at all. The only strings attached were to pay up every week. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

When he arrived at Victoria's doorstep, he rang the bell and waited, clutching his black club kit in his hand, butterflies whirling in his tummy. He mentally noted the feeling and secretly chuckled at his memory of what he called that feeling when he was a child, the "flutterbies".

Suzie, dressed like a slob in sweat pants and a T-shirt, opened the door, let it swing so that it hit the wall beside the closet, and then walked away without even saying hello. He assumed he was to enter and he remembered his explicit instructions upon entering. He closed the door. Suzie was nowhere to be seen. The house was quiet. He stood there not sure what to do.

"Suzie? Victoria?" he yelled in a mild voice. Nothing. He took a deep breath and did as he had been told to do; he took all his clothes off, donned the red latex hood, and waited. He felt like an idiot, a pervert, a slave to Victoria.

The only sound was the sound of his breathing through the breathing tube. Feeling self-conscious and awkward, he looked around and decided it would be best to store his black club kit bag in the closet. As he did so, he noted that there was another one just like his stored there as well. Oh God, he thought; he was not alone today.

Finally, after endless moments of indecision about whether to stay where he was or venture further into the house to find someone, Victoria appeared, dressed exquisitely in a tight fitting black dress that went to the floor. It molded to her shape but apparently was flexible enough for her to walk in the otherwise hobble-looking skirt portion. An uneven texture of boning and laces revealed the presence of a corset under the dress.

"Jason. Good to see you." She came to him quickly to inspect the chastity cage, checking the number on the locking tag and comparing it to the number on the paper in her left hand. "Good," she said, "Now bend over please."

Jason had not expected this, but as soon as he did, she grabbed the anal plug and worked it a little bit, enough to make him gasp slightly through his breathing tube.

"Very good," she said, "Now, the money please."

He handed her the envelope with the money and watched her count it. He stood there uncomfortably, with his penis throbbing within the chastity cage.

"Very good," she said again, "I don't want you, or have any need for you, this week. I'll see you next week at 4:00 and bring $1,200 please; the bondage corset is costing more than I had thought because of the accessories I asked for, and the exchange rate with the US dollar. Please excuse me; I have a, umm, a visitor to tend to. Hope you have a good week. Good bye." And she left. Just like that.

Jason felt as if he had been brought to the edge of orgasm and then denied the moment of truth. Not only that, but the humiliation of this was enormous. He had been treated like an inanimate object, like he wasn't even a sexual object; he was less than that, certainly less than the "other" visitor. He felt odd. Jealousy; that was it. He was an automated teller dispensing money. This was unexpected, as he had assumed he would be used for sexual purposes every weekend. Now he thought about that and realized that there were others, other men in the same position as he, and that they must have their times with Victoria and her women as well.

He felt stupid and lost, and as he took his latex hood off and dressed himself once again, he wondered how he could go another entire week without having a sexual release of some sort. Then the horrible thought hit him; it could be several weeks before it was his turn to be "used" again. He thought more about this as he drove back home, wondering what he would do now. Surely she didn't expect a virile 30 year old man with his looks to go two or more weeks with this stupid fragile cage on his penis.

By the time he was home, the disappointment had changed to anger, and then a glass of wine changed it to irrationality and bravado. With little fanfare he cut the locking tag off the chastity cage and freed his penis. After watching the hockey game on TV, he left for the Jasper Club, met some fellow young lawyers, drank a few rounds and met Toni, a friend of one of the female lawyers at the club. The rest of the evening went well, and he woke up with a headache in Toni's bed on Saturday morning.

Oh shit, he thought. As in many other one night stands, he managed to sneak out of the apartment and slink away back home. He got a text from Toni before he got home which his Bluetooth read out for him while he drove. "Asshole," was all it said in its monotone computer voice. He shrugged it off. They had made no promises to each other and she was a big girl; she could handle being used like that surely. And he also reasoned that she had used him as well. It was just sex.

He had no idea that not everyone thought about sex in the same way he did. He had no idea that sex could be a bond far deeper than the physical.

Having had an orgasm the night before, and now that his head had cleared, he began to worry. The tag was cut cleanly from the chastity cage; there was no getting that back together. Now what? He spent that Saturday and Sunday trying to plan his excuse. It broke when he got out of the shower? No, he fell getting out of the shower. Yes, that was better. The tag got caught on the, on the what? On the scissors, he laughed to himself. By Monday, he didn't worry about it at all. He had a legitimate excuse, and even if she didn't buy that, he decided to just call Victoria's bluff anyway. He had crossed this bridge and he just had to wait to see what was on the other side.

The next Friday arrived with a rare early snowfall. The wind was cold and the air damp as he drove to Victoria's place with the required $1,200. He was aware of the anal plug massaging him with every bump of the road, but he was even more acutely aware of his free penis, and the empty chastity cage in his pocket. Justified or not, he was afraid.

This time Victoria herself answered the door, and instead of leaving him alone like Suzie had done the week before, she just said hello, took the money in the envelope, and said, "Okay, come in and strip off."

Jason gulped and did so, standing in front of her completely nude. "I fell getting out of the shower and the tag ripped right off," he said.

"I see. Where is it?" she asked.

He took the chastity apparatus out of his pocket in the coat on the floor and showed it to her sheepishly. "I'm really sorry," he said.

She stared at him with no perceivable facial expression other than perhaps disappointment. "Yes, I'll bet you're sorry. I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"No, I'm fine."

"Yes, I'll bet you're fine," she sighed. Then she added, "Okay, put it back on and I'll lock you up again. Then you can go home. I'll see you next Friday at 4:00. Bring $1,000, your toothbrush, and your other toiletries."

She waited while he assembled the flimsy looking plastic device over his genitals. Then she inserted the plastic locking tab and clicked it shut. Looking at him with a level stare, she said, "You shouldn't test me." Then she squeezed his left testicle painfully and left him to wonder what that meant. He waited a second or two and then yelled, "What do you mean by that?" There was no answer, so he dressed again and left for home.

This time, he did not cut the chastity cage off. He just had a feeling that maybe he shouldn't do that, and on Wednesday night, that feeling or worry was confirmed with a knock at his front door.

When he opened the door, Geoff, his neighbor for many years and many beers, stood there, and without fanfare gave Jason's house key to him. Geoff, along with his other neighbor Rachel, had alternately watched his house every time he went on vacation, so this was a surprise.

"What's this?" Jason asked, taking the keys, "Come on in Geoff."

Geoff answered icily and with a tremble to his voice, not one of grief, but of anger, "You send me a fucking email like that and you stand there pretending nothing's happened? What the fuck, who the fuck do you think I am anyway? You think by sending that email that I'll be your fuck buddy or something, you deviant piece of shit?"

Jason turned white outside and black inside and said, "Geoff, wait, I didn't send you an email! What are you talking about?"

"Look," Geoff said, barely in control, "It was from your email address, and it was you in the video. Two plus two equals four in my books. You might be a gay transvestite, and I know I should be tolerant of people's quirks (and I am) , but for you to send that to me in a way like this, it's, it's...You think I'm gay or something? Jesus, man, you keep this fucking shit to yourself okay?" He took one last glare at Jason before racing off the doorstep and back home.

Jason ran out after him and yelled, "Geoff, wait! That wasn't, uh, I'm being..." He was going to say "blackmailed" but the idea of telling him fell flat on its face. Nothing could change the fact that he was enjoying himself in that video, whether he was being blackmailed or not. The evidence was overwhelming. Jason stood there in shock for a moment, and then he went back into the house and closed the door softly. The lock clicked shut with finality. There was no way to defend himself.

Victoria had used his own email address to send that video to Geoff. He didn't understand the technical aspects of that, only the results. She had actually done it! He suspected Suzie was the IT wizard, as she was a gamer, he knew. She looked the part. He stood rooted to the foyer floor, thinking, but his thoughts just swirled around like fog in the wind, random and futile. So he went to the bar in the living room and poured himself a scotch. Moments later he poured another. No need to think really; she had him.

After pacing around the house aimlessly for about half an hour, he resolved to be proactive. He phoned his parents and his brothers, but conversation was normal and fun as always. He hung up the phone with measured relief. It had been a surgical and limited attack by Victoria, a warning. Now what, he wondered?

As he laid in bed later trying to sleep, he absently fondled his cage, feeling astoundingly frustrated by such a modest device. Pangs of fear shot through him and sleep did not come. At 2:55, he got up and went to his computer to compose an email.

It said, "Geoff, I know how this all looks, but it's not what you think. I did NOT send you that email. I am being blackmailed by the woman in that video. I need help. Please call me."

He stared at the words for several minutes. Then he pictured Geoff reading it and thinking about all of it. Was it Jason in the video? Yes. Was Jason having an orgasm while being treated in that way? Yes. Was Jason clearly enjoying the scene? Yes. Did the email come from Jason's own email address? Yes.

Would Victoria expose him totally if she found out he had sought help in this way? Yes.

His finger hovered over the "send" button and then as if by magnetism, moved inexorably to the right and pressed delete instead. Mentally exhausted and beaten, he went back to bed and finally found sleep.

At work the next day, he was looking over his shoulder all day long, but there was nothing strange or alarming. But his hands shook, and he was unusually quiet when talking to his peers. He went home early, relieved that Victoria had limited her attack, but terrified at her power to do so.

Thursday night, he drank half a bottle of white wine while eating a pizza and staring unfocused into the distance. During the consumption of the rest of the bottle, he started saying out loud over and over again, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..." until the bottle was finished and he went to sleep on the sofa.

Friday again. The minutes had been an eternity, the days a blink of an eye. Jason was a lot less excited about paying his weekly visit to Victoria's house. He rang the doorbell and waited. There was a blank expression on his face when she opened the door and asked him in.

She immediately told him to strip off for inspection and while he did so, she asked, "So, did you have an enjoyable week Jason?"

"Yes, fine." He was sullen.

"Well, that's good then. Has Geoff, your neighbor been talking to you at all?"

"Yes. We had a little chat."

"And Rachel?"

Jason looked alarmed. Rachel was his other neighbor who also had his house key as an alternate. She was an elderly woman who had just lost her husband to cancer the previous year, a sweet lady who enjoyed wine and laughter frequently on warm summer nights with Jason either in his back yard or hers.

"What about Rachel? Please tell me you didn't send the email to Rachel."

"Bend over please," she ordered, and she checked the position of the butt plug. Then she pulled on his chastity cage to ensure it was locked. Smiling, she said, "So, do you understand what you're up against now?"

"Yes. But what about Rachel? Did you...?"

She didn't answer his question. "Jason, you don't seem to understand the stakes here yet. You thought it was a game and you tested me. I responded in a small, measured way. It could have been worse, way worse, couldn't it? Now I'll ask you again, do you REALLY understand what you're up against now?"

Jason was standing nude in front of a fully dressed woman in full control of everything in his life at the moment. He felt small and insignificant. She had one arm folded under her breasts and the other elbow was resting on it so that her chin was in turn resting on the hand of that arm. She waited for an answer.

"Yes!" he yelled, like saying "uncle" while in a wrestler's arm lock.

"That's good. Now maybe you'll be more obedient. Did you bring your toothbrush and toiletries?"

"Yes. In my bag."

"Good. Put your hood on, the black one for oral service, just in case I want to use you while I'm watching TV or something. And put your hands behind your back while I put you in this arm-binder. She slipped the binder up his arms so that his hands were now in a single mitt at the base, and the straps were secured at his shoulders. Then she tightened the corset-like laces on the binder so that his elbows were drawn closer to one another. Once this was tied off, she pulled a strap from the base of his hand mitten down and under his crotch, finally up to the front of the binder shoulder straps and attached it there with a lock.

Jason was breathing raggedly; he felt totally helpless, and indeed he was now. The arm-binder harness pulled his shoulders back firmly, and his arms felt like they were part of his torso, immobilized as they were. He thought this should have been enough, but then she wrapped a severe thick leather posture collar around his neck which, when strapped down behind his head and locked on, forced him to stare straight ahead and slightly upwards. Now she added a leash to the collar and led him away to the dungeon.

As he was led away, Jason felt extremely confused, humiliated at being treated like a dog, but he noted that his chastity cage was full, painfully full. He desperately wanted an orgasm in response to both the bondage and the humiliation, and he didn't understand that. Mind you, understanding his situation had little to do with his predicament; it was going to be what Victoria wanted it to be.

Once in the dungeon, he was fitted with ankle cuffs, which in turn were locked together, then locked to D-rings on the floor. A thick steel pole was inserted into a pre-made hole just behind him in the floor and he was bound to it so that it was impossible for him to fall over and injure himself. He felt like he was to be burned at the stake.

All this was done to him without a word of fun or encouragement. Victoria was like a robot. Now she left him alone in the dungeon to contemplate his situation. He had to be honest with himself; he was enjoying this. It was like a dream. So, if she was trying to punish him, it was not working, he thought with amusement. He resolved to pretend he was mortified and at her mercy.

There was no need to pretend. It was 4:30 in the afternoon and as she left she said, "Relax for a few hours Jason. You messed with me; now I'm gonna mess with you, bigtime. Let me explain what's going to happen to you tonight: nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm going to keep you bound up like this, all locked up, and that's it...nothing more, except that you will get to watch some things, some very sexy things. Do you like to watch Jason?"