Cora Ch.06

Hey guys, long time, so let me fill you in on this drama....

I wish I could say I didn't know what I was doing. That the whole thing was a mistake. But the truth is, I wanted to feel a little danger.

Maybe it was the boredom, or the comfort that did it. Hank and I were perfect. Too perfect.

Mornings in bed, dinner together, forehead kisses. The sex was still great, we came heaps, i was hot and he was strong and athletic enough to give me what i needed but it was all a bit... Steady. Safe.

And maybe I wasn't built for safety.

If you had to look at me, there's only one thing you would say I was built for, right? And maybe I felt like I hadn't fully shared the new me with the world yet.

So, yeah, Id been going out in borderline outrageous outfits, soaking up the attention from anyone who would give it. I even crossed the line a few times with strangers, in a bar bathroom or their place nearby. And i'd still been texting that man. The tall one from the train. The one with hands that looked like they could tear open a car door. He flirted without hesitation. Told me I was the kind of woman men fought over. He told me in explicit terms how he wanted to fuck me. That he could make me feel things Hank never would. And I believed him. I sent him very NSFW videos, pics and messages, showing everything but the remnants of my little dick.

When he invited me to a party, out of the blue--black tie, car sent for me, no other details--I said yes. I didn't even ask his name.

I wore the red dress. That dress. Strapless. Slit to the waist. A sheer mesh corseted bodice with red piping and more satin over my breasts. Gold statement necklace, real gold, fake jewels, but expensive-looking. Six-inch glittery heels. Cute earrings with deep red stones. Classic, perfect make up and long luxurious wavy hair. Everything about me screamed "expensive toy." And I liked the attention it got me.

The house was a mansion, it looked recently built. Super modern and very grand, I'd never seen anything like it. He met me at the door, dressed like a billionaire. I stepped inside and instantly noticed how perfect everyone looked, especially the women. Stunning but vacant. Hanging off the arms of powerful-looking men, smiling and giggling when spoken to, hardly saying a word otherwise.

Muscle man excused himself briefly, to "attend to some business"

I mingled, drank, watched. No one asked my name. Only smiling at briefly saying hello to other men. None of the women met my eye. Nobody engaged in conversation. No one cared who I was, but he glances of the men showed that they v loved how I looked, and i always get a buzz from that. The vibe was definitely off, but I would play along, for now.

I found him again a while later and whispered seductively that maybe we should find somewhere more private. I wanted to cut to the chase and get out of here, it was creepy, but he was super hot. And I wanted to see if he would really fuck me like the way he said he would in his messages. His smile was the kind that made my knees shake, and not entirely in a good way. But I followed him anyway, like the slut I am.

In the room, things got intense fast. I kissed him, knelt down, tried to stay in control. But just as I had fished out his huge veiny dick and pointed it towards my painted lips..

A sharp sting in my neck. Darkness.

When I woke up, I was in a cage.

It sounds dramatic, I know. But it was real. A plush bedroom, all soft pink lighting and velvet furnishings, and me, in a literal gilded cage. He sat outside of it like some evil prince out of a twisted fairy tale.

I cursed him. He laughed.

I begged. He just shook his head and said, "You should've told me you were trans. You nearly cost me a sale."

Apparently, I was going to be sold to some rich creep who wanted a perfectly trained little wife. They were going to drug me, some kind of compliance serum he'd developed himself. His secret weapon. Only now, knowing I was trans, the buyer wasn't interested.

He said he didn't want to waste the serum on a bitch he might not be able to sell, but if I disobeyed, he'd use it anyway--and punish me for making him do it. It was very expensive to make.

Then he unlocked the cage.

I tried to run past him. I really did. But I was still wearing my heels, my legs like jelly. I fell. He laughed again.

After that, he attached a collar and dragged me by a leash into another room, making me crawl. I felt pure burning hatred, but i knew i had to comply or id be chemically forced to.

The new room was a strange, pastel dreamworld of perfect girls lounging in satin robes and lacey lingerie. They painted their toes, flipped through fashion magazines, giggled about boys and celebrities. Their makeup was flawless. Their smiles... empty.

They welcomed me like I was the new roommate.

They bathed me, it felt nice. They styled me, painted me up like a doll. Like one of them. I smiled. I played along. The lingerie was beautiful, if not my style, but i resented being forced into it.

I was trapped for hours in a pastel prison, surrounded by vacant women who couldn't hold a conversation beyond lipstick shades and celebrity breakups. They seemed completely unable to respond or engage with any topics outside of the stereotypes of teenage girls.

The worst part? They were happy -- or rather, seemed to be. I couldn't let myself become like them.

Then came the moment.

A soft knock. The heavy lock turned, and the door cracked open. A.. guard, I guess, stepped in with a silver tray, small plates of delicate food laid out like room service. An unidentified pill on each plate. The guard was tall, lean, and clearly underestimating the threat level of the room full of docile women. He looked right past me.

That was his mistake.

In the corner of the room, by the vanity table, was a crystal vase full of pink roses. Heavy. I had seen it earlier and clocked its weight. I kept myself poised, pretending to be another painted doll in a robe, until he turned his back to set the tray down.

I moved fast. Silent. Controlled. I grabbed the vase, dashed toward him, and brought it down hard across the back of his head. He crumpled -- dazed but not out cold. We struggled. He reached for something, maybe a panic button, but I slammed the heel of my shoe into his hand. Then the other into his neck. He lay grasping his wound, choking on blood.

He went still.

I stood over him, panting, hands shaking -- blood on my fingers, knees raw on the plush carpet.

The door was open.

"Let's go," I told the girls. "Now. We're free."

Nothing. Just soft smiles and confused looks.

"Didn't you hear me? He's down. You can leave!"

Still nothing. Not a foot moved. Of course. The serum. They couldn't act on a woman's command. Not if they were this far gone.

"The new Charlotte Tilbury pallet is soooo cute! Maybe if I'm good enough daddy will buy it for me" one of the girls cooed to nobody in particular, as if I hadn't just killed a man.

I hated it but at that moment I was kinda just like her, I needed a big strong man.

-

Hank had been hunting me. He had hacked my phone left at home. Gutted by my betrayal of trust but overwon by love and concern he tracked me down.

He'd found the mansion. Stormed the gates in his mid-size sedan with nothing but a pick axe handle he'd grabbed from his shed and a printout of the floorplan he'd gotten through pure luck. He knew the man who designed the house. He crashed through a side door knocked two guards clean out, before they even knew what was happening, and finally made it to the wing I was in -- blood on his shirt and face, breathing heavy.

He found me standing beside the guard's body.

"Jesus, Cora," he said.

"I tried to get them out," I told him. "They won't listen to me. The serum. They need a man to tell them."

He turned to the girls. "Get up," he said sharply. "All of you. We're getting out of here."

And like magic, they obeyed. Like flipping a switch. Ten dazed, doll-like women in silk robes slipped on whatever heels they could find and began following Hank down the hall, all of them piling into his too-small car like it was a clown act in a circus. Limbs and hair and satin everywhere. I sat in the front, one girl poised on my lap, one squeezed in between my legs in the footwell.

13 of them squeezed ass to tit in the back.

We drove. We didn't look back.

We dropped the girls at the police station, gave our statements and headed home.

I hadn't given two thoughts to the fact that I conducted my police interview in lace lingerie and a satin robe that it hadnt even crossed my mind to close.

-

The police raided the compound three hours later. Shut it down. Found labs, cages, documents. Everything but him -- the muscle-bound predator who started it all. He had slipped away.

That should've been the end of it. But it wasn't.

Hank and I wanted justice.

We wanted revenge.

-

Two weeks later, we found him.

He was at a bar downtown, slouched in a leather booth, surrounded by girls who hadn't yet seen the monster behind the charm.

I wasn't Cora that night... I was someone else. Tight, electric blue mini dress, skin tight, only just covering my ass. Poker straight platinum wig with a blunt fringe, its length fell half way down my back. My make up was far more striking than my usual style. Bright eye shadow and shocking pink lipstick. I used a fake Eastern European accent, keeping it just on the right side of too sexy.

He bought the illusion without a second thought and approached.

He smiled as he slid into the gap between my stool and the next.

"You look familiar," he said, but he didn't really believe it. He place his hand on my smooth bare thigh.

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Trust me, if we had met you would remember me."

I placed a hand under his chin, leaned in and gave him a small kiss.

He winced as Hank subtly stabbed him in the ass with a vile of serum he had swiped during the rescue attempt.

His smirk froze. His pupils dilated. His muscles slackened.

"Let's take a walk," Hank said, and he nodded like a puppet on strings.

Back in our hotel room, we dressed him like the femme-bot caricature he'd forced on others. High heels, white stockings, a lacey bra that looked hilarious stretched over his broad hairy chest and a matching thong that couldnt even begin to contain his huge balls, they hung comically down either side of the gusset. We gave him a mirror and made him smile at it.

He obeyed.

We made him empty his accounts. Every last dollar wired away.

And then, on an empty city street, just before sunrise, we stood beside him as he swayed on unsteady legs.

"Walk," Hank said. "Into traffic."

And he wandered off in search of his own deserved demise.

-

When we got back home, I finally exhaled.

No cages. No creeps. No vacant girls in lingerie. No men with syringes and secrets. Just me, Hank, and our wee home. It was perfect.

I wandered around the house in tiny pink micro shorts and a little crop tank top that was too thin to hide my nipples --because yeah, I'm still a little extra. But I was done chasing danger. I didn't need dark parties or mystery men or some twisted idea of freedom. I just needed someone who saw me. And Hank did. Always has.

He was in the kitchen, shirt off, fixing the sink for the tenth time. I watched him for a second, chest rising and falling, muscles moving under tanned skin, and I thought 'God, I almost gave this up for what? A cage with better lighting?'

I slid up behind him, wrapped my arms around his chest and, on tip toes, kissed the back of his neck.

"Hey, just so you know... I'm done running."

He turned, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." I grinned. "Turns out I only needed one good man. And you're the best one i know."

He smirked, turned and pulled me in close. "Lucky for you, I plan on keeping you."

"Good," I said, gazing up into his beautiful eyes and rubbing his bulge through his jeans "Because I plan on keeping you very, very happy for a very long time."