Jack's Reckoning

It was the kind of night that makes you feel watched, even when you're alone. The kind of night where the moon hides behind clouds and the wind whispers things that make no sense. But I walked up the hill anyway, my boots crunching the gravel path, eyes locked on the gothic monster of a house looming above.

Seraphine's manor.

Why did I come here? I don't even know. I told myself it was curiosity. Guilt. Maybe even boredom. But I think deep down, I knew something bigger was pulling me. Something stronger. Like a string tied to my chest, being tugged by hands I couldn't see.

The gate was already open. Not just unlocked. Wide open. Waiting.

I swallowed hard and stepped inside.

The second I passed through, it felt like the air changed. Heavier. Warmer. It smelled faintly of roses--and something sharper. Like iron.

The front door creaked open before I could knock.

And there she stood.

Lady Seraphine.

She didn't say a word. Just leaned against the frame like she owned the night. Which, honestly, she did. Her skin was pale like porcelain, her hair black and shiny as wet ink, falling down her shoulders. Tight black corset, blood-red lips, eyes that glowed just a little too bright to be human.

She looked me up and down like I was a meal.

"Jack," she said. Her voice was silk dipped in danger. "You actually came."

I cleared my throat. "Yeah. I figured we should... talk."

She smiled.

"Talk?" She laughed softly, and it wasn't friendly. "You think this is a conversation? No, darling. This is your reckoning."

Before I could step back, her hand shot forward and gripped my jaw. Her fingers were ice cold. Her nails dug into my skin just enough to sting.

"Do you remember what you said to me? That night?"

Of course I did. That stupid party. I'd been drunk. She'd tried to talk to me. I said something cruel--something about her being weird, pathetic, a wannabe goth freak. And everyone laughed. I never thought she'd remember. I never thought it would matter.

"You humiliated me," she whispered, dragging her nail down my cheek. "In front of everyone."

She leaned in close, her breath cool against my ear.

"Now I'm going to make you feel exactly the same. And worse."

I wanted to back away. I wanted to run. But my body didn't listen.

"On your knees."

Her voice didn't just sound in the room. It rang in my head like a bell. And my legs buckled before I could think. I hit the floor with a thud, hands trembling, heart slamming against my ribs.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" I gasped.

"I'm a Witch, dear, I have powers... that can make people obedient to my words," she smiled.

She circled me slowly, heels tapping on the marble floor.

"Look at you. You used to walk around like you were hot shit. Alpha male. Cocky. Loud."

She stopped in front of me and held my chin, forcing me to look up.

"Now you're just a trembling little puppy in front of a woman you once called a freak."

She tilted her head.

"You know what I see when I look at you now? A toy. A sissy in denial."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Oh yes. That's what you are, sweetheart. And tonight, I'm going to start showing you. Bit by bit."

She snapped her fingers, and the air shimmered behind her.

Chains. Floating. Gliding toward me like they were alive.

"No... no, wait--" I started.

"Hush, Petal."

I blinked. "What did you just call me?"

"Petal," she said again, louder. "Your new name. Because that's what you are now. Soft. Pretty. Fragile. And mine."

The chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles before I could resist. They weren't cold. They were warm. Alive. They pulled me up, arms stretched, legs slightly apart.

I hung there, suspended. Exposed. Humiliated.

"This," she whispered, pressing her body against mine, "is only the beginning."

She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear.

"Say it. Say your name."

My throat closed. Shame burned in my chest.

She grabbed my cock through my jeans and squeezed. Hard.

"Say it."

"P-Petal," I whispered.

She smiled like sunrise over a battlefield.

"Good girl."

---

The words echoed in my ears, louder than they should've. They didn't just land on me--they buried themselves under my skin. Shame rushed through my chest like wildfire. My cheeks burned hot. My hands clenched, tugging at the chains, but they didn't give.

"I'm not--I'm not your girl," I snapped, voice trembling.

She leaned back, amused. "Oh, Petal. You still think you're in control? Adorable."

"This isn't me. I don't... I don't do this kind of thing," I said, struggling against the bonds. "Let me down. Right now."

"Hmm. That's the tone of a man trying to convince himself, not me."

She walked behind me, fingertips trailing across my shoulders. I flinched. Every nerve lit up.

"You know what's really cute, Petal? The way you still pretend you have a choice."

I yanked at the chains again, my breath coming faster. They were too strong, enchanted maybe, and the way they adjusted around my limbs--pulling just a bit tighter when I resisted--felt like a cruel joke.

"You feel that?" she whispered behind me. "That helplessness? That's the start of your new life."

"No. This isn't me. I'm not... I'm not some toy!"

"Not yet," she said with a devilish grin. "But you will be."

She walked around to face me again, a length of black satin ribbon in one hand. It looked innocent, soft. But the look in her eyes was anything but.

"Let's make you look the part."

She ran the ribbon along my jawline slowly before sliding it into my mouth and tying it tight behind my head. A gag, soft and humiliating. I could still breathe, but I couldn't talk. My protests became muffled whimpers.

"There," she said. "Much better."

She stepped back to admire her work. Me, hanging in her entry hall, wrists and ankles pulled apart, gagged with a satin ribbon, helpless.

"I wish the people from that party could see you now. Remember how you laughed at me in front of them? How you humiliated me?"

My head dropped, eyes shutting tight. I did remember. And now, that laughter echoed back at me--not mine, theirs. But this time, it was at me.

"Now you're the one being laughed at. Silly little Petal. All chained up. Gagged."

She walked up again and cupped my chin, forcing my head up so our eyes met.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to this. You'll beg for it soon."

I shook my head violently. Tears welled up, not from pain--not yet--but from raw, stinging humiliation. This wasn't just bondage. It was destruction. She was tearing down who I thought I was, one sentence at a time.

"But before we go further," she purred, "we need to get rid of these silly boy clothes."

My eyes widened, a muffled sound escaping the gag.

"Oh, don't be shy now. A sissy like you doesn't need jeans and boxers. You need lace. Silk. Things that clench."

Her fingers brushed the button of my jeans.

"Let's see what kind of cute little thing is hiding underneath, shall we?"

Seraphine's fingers toyed with the button of my jeans, slow and deliberate. I squirmed in the air, bound and gagged, completely exposed under her gaze.

She met my eyes, then grinned. "Oh, don't pout, Petal. You should be proud. We're about to uncover the real you."

With a flick of her wrist, the button popped. The zipper came down with a long, dragging hiss. The sound filled the room like thunder. I trembled.

She tugged the jeans down slowly, letting them bunch around my ankles, exposing my boxers. Plain, grey, nothing special.

Seraphine tutted softly. "Oh, how dull. We'll fix that."

Then, she saw it.

My boxers bulged just a little--and not from arousal. From fear. From the pressure of humiliation.

Her eyes sparkled. "Is that all you've got?"

She bent down and pulled the boxers slowly, dramatically. When they slid past my thighs, my cock sprang free--or tried to. Pathetically soft. Embarrassingly small. Shrunk back on itself in shame.

She gasped--mocking, delighted. "Oh my god, Petal. This is what you were strutting around with? This little... this peanut?"

Heat exploded across my face. I tried to twist away, but the chains held firm.

She giggled like it was the funniest thing she'd seen all night. "No wonder you were so loud back then. Overcompensating for this tiny, useless thing."

She tapped it lightly with her fingernail. I jerked, helpless.

"I've seen clits with more attitude than this. Honestly, Petal, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were born to be a sissy."

My eyes watered. Humiliation wasn't just a feeling anymore. It was a living thing crawling over my skin, burrowing into my bones.

"This won't do," she said, standing upright. "We'll have to tuck this pathetic thing away. Hide it. Lock it. Forget it ever existed."

She walked away, heels echoing on the marble, then returned with a small velvet box.

She opened it slowly.

Inside was a chastity cage. Sleek. Pink. Glittery.

My heart stopped.

She smiled wider. "Perfect, don't you think? Just your size."

She held it in her palm like a trophy.

"You won't be needing erections anymore, Petal. Not when your only job is to please, obey, and be pretty."

She knelt in front of me, eyes locking with mine.

"You wanted to laugh at me. Humiliate me. Now I'll show you what real humiliation tastes like."

She took hold of my cock gently, almost lovingly, and began slipping the cage on.

"Breathe, Petal. It's your first time being caged. You'll remember this night forever."

Click.

The lock snapped into place.

It was done.

My cock--my manhood, my pride--was now a locked-up, useless decoration. A joke. A pretty little toy.

"Look at you now," she whispered. "So much better already."

She stood and kissed my forehead like I was some obedient little pet.

"Now say thank you."

I moaned behind the gag, mortified.

She tilted her head, smirking. "That'll do. For now."

---

She unhooked the chains, and I dropped to my knees with a thud. My legs were shaky, my pride shattered. The chastity cage felt alien, cold, tight--like it had claimed a part of me I'd never get back.

"Crawl," she said simply.

I hesitated.

She didn't repeat herself. She just looked at me, waiting. That was somehow worse. My body started acting automatically. I crawled. The floor was polished marble, each movement echoing. My knees burned. She led me out of the hall and down a candlelit corridor to another set of double doors. When they swung open, I saw a dressing room--no, a shrine to femininity.

Lace. Satin. Silk. Ribbons. Corsets. Wigs. Shoes with heels taller than I'd ever dared to glance at. The air smelled like lavender and powdered sugar.

I froze.

"Welcome to your new wardrobe, Petal," she said sweetly. "You're going to be such a pretty little thing."

I shook my head, a muffled plea escaping the gag.

She crouched, cupped my chin. "You think this is bad? You embarrassed me in front of dozens. I was nothing but kind to you, and you humiliated me. Tonight, I return the favor."

She stood and browsed the racks like she was picking out something for a doll.

"Hmm... pink, definitely. Something cute. Something tight."

She pulled out a sissy maid dress, baby pink with frilly white lace, and turned to me. "Try not to drool when you see how adorable you are in this."

She stripped me fully, removing what was left of my pride. Then she guided the dress over my arms, smoothing it down my chest and waist.

It hugged tight in all the wrong ways. It made me feel smaller, softer, ridiculous.

"Arms up."

She slid on matching puffy sleeves, then tied a giant bow behind me. The skirt barely covered my thighs. Underneath, she added pink, ruffled panties with a heart stitched on the back. They clung around the chastity cage like a reminder.

"You know what the heart says? 'Owned.'"

She spun me toward a mirror.

I didn't recognize the thing looking back at me.

A boy in a pink sissy dress. Blush dusting his cheeks. Knees pressed together. Caged. Shamed. Broken.

She stepped behind me and whispered, "Say hello to the real you."

My throat tightened. I wanted to scream. Instead, the gag held it in, turning it into a whimper.

"Not done yet," she cooed. "Pretty lips need pretty colors."

She sat me on a velvet stool, took out a makeup kit, and began painting me. Lip gloss. Blush. Mascara. Highlighter. Glitter.

Each stroke chipped away another layer of the old me.

"Aren't you just precious now?" she said, tapping my nose. "I should take photos. Frame them. Or better yet--post them."

I moaned, shaking my head violently. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

"Aww. You're blushing, Petal. It's okay. Shame looks good on you."

---

She led me deeper into the manor, my heels clicking with every nervous step. The thick carpet eventually gave way to cool stone again as we entered a dark, velvet-draped room. Candles flickered from wrought-iron sconces. Chains, paddles, clamps, and toys of every unspeakable kind lined the walls.

Seraphine closed the door behind her. There was no going back.

"On the bench," she ordered.

It was a padded piece, slanted, clearly designed for exposure and restraint. I hesitated.

She didn't repeat herself.

With shaking hands in frilly cuffs, I climbed up.

She strapped my wrists and ankles quickly, precisely. I was spread, bent, locked down tight.

"Time to test your limits, Petal. You see, humiliation is only the beginning."

She turned and picked up something I couldn't see. Then I heard it--a buzzing sound. My heart skipped.

She came into view with a wand vibrator, smiling wickedly. "Let's see how sensitive you are through that little cage."

She pressed it against the metal.

I gasped, body jolting. It felt like lightning in my groin.

"Oh, that got your attention."

She kept it there, pulsing through the bars, teasing without mercy.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "So desperate, but this cage won't let you. You're stuck in between pain and pleasure--forever."

She turned it up.

I moaned and whimpered, my hips struggling against the restraints. No relief. No release.

"You're dripping, Petal. Pathetic."

She removed the wand and picked up a tiny clamp with teeth. My eyes widened.

"Open wide."

She pulled off the gag. Before I could speak, she slipped the clamp onto my tongue.

I cried out--sharp, biting pain.

"Don't talk unless I tell you. You've wasted enough breath in this life saying cruel things. Now you'll feel every word."

She tugged on a chain attached to the clamp, leading it down and fastening it to the bench.

Then came the clothespins. One by one, she snapped them onto my nipples. Each bite sharper than the last. My chest heaved.

She looked down at me. My eyes were watering, face flushed, barely breathing from the intensity.

Then she stepped away--and returned with something bigger.

A tail plug.

"Oh, don't look so shocked. What's a Petal without a tail?"

She lubed it slowly while I whimpered. I tried to plead. She shushed me.

"You've taken enough. You can take this."

And I did. She slid it in slowly, deliberately, until the base nestled against my pink panties.

"There. Look at that. A pretty plug for a pretty pet."

She showed me in the mirror. I couldn't stop trembling.

"You're learning, Petal. You're learning what it means to serve."

She stood behind me, arms crossed, admiring her work.

"You thought you were strong when you laughed at me. But real strength is this--enduring pain, surrendering control, becoming mine."

I nodded weakly.

"And now," she said, "we move to obedience drills. Because pretty pets don't just look the part--they behave, too."

---

Seraphine stood before me with her hands behind her back, posture like a queen, eyes drinking in every inch of her trembling sissy creation.

"We've dressed you," she said, circling me slowly. "Plugged you. Caged you. And yet, you're still thinking. Still resisting in that arrogant little brain. That won't do. We'll begin obedience conditioning."

I was no longer bound to the bench, but every part of me still ached--from the tight cage to the sting on my nipples. My tail plug shifted uncomfortably with every movement, reminding me of what I'd become.

"Kneel."

I sank down, hands folded in my lap like she had taught me, knees wide apart. My skirt flounced slightly. She corrected it with a toe under my thigh.

"Back straight. Chin down. Eyes up. That's your listening position."

I nodded. She snapped her fingers.

"Speak only when I allow you to. Blink once if you understand."

I blinked.

"Good girl."

My heart thumped at those words. 'Girl.' It felt... so humiliating.

Seraphine moved to a cabinet and returned with a small pink collar.

"Do you know what this is, Petal?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't allowed.

She smiled.

"This means you belong to me. That even your breath is on loan."

She fastened it around my neck slowly, deliberately, the click of the buckle sealing something deep inside me.

"Now, we teach your body to obey faster than your mind. When I say 'position', you will shift to one of the five poses I'll show you. Any hesitation..."

She ran a fingernail across my cheek.

"Will be corrected."

What followed was a blur of posture drills. She barked numbers: "Position One!" -- I flung my hands behind my back, back arched, thighs spread, face turned down.

Even though my brain screamed to stop--to resist--I moved. My body responded like it had a mind of its own. Conditioned, broken, rewired.

"Position Three!" -- On all fours, tail lifted, gaze on the floor.

I whimpered. The movement forced the plug deeper. I twitched, but I couldn't stop. It was like my limbs obeyed her commands more than my own will.

"Position Two!" -- Knees together, hands cupped under my breasts, mouth open.

I performed each pose with trembling precision. Not because I wanted to--but because I couldn't not. My mind was slipping. My body had started learning a new language--one she wrote on my skin with pain and praise.

Every mistake earned a sharp slap with her riding crop. Not on my backside--but the inner thigh, my calves, my feet.

"Position Four!"

I scrambled into the squatting pose she taught, thighs trembling.

"Too slow, Petal."

Whack.

"You move like a boy. That's not who you are anymore."

She held my chin, forcing me to look up at her.

"You're mine. A soft little nothing I shape for my pleasure."

I swallowed hard. She grabbed a lipstick from the nearby dresser and painted my lips bright crimson again, exaggerated, messy.

"There. A little reminder of your role."

The training continued. My muscles burned, my body ached, but I obeyed. I couldn't help it. I needed to obey her. Each movement happened before I could even think. As if her voice lived in my nerves now.

When she finally let me rest, I collapsed into her lap.

She stroked my hair.

"Good progress, Petal. But this is just the beginning. Tomorrow, we invite someone to watch."

My eyes widened.

"Don't worry," she cooed. "You'll make me proud. Or you'll bleed trying."

---

I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the sissy staring back at me.

Lace stockings hugged my freshly shaved thighs, garters clipped tight. The corset was tighter than yesterday--forcing my chest forward, restricting every breath. My pink panties barely covered the metal cage that imprisoned me, and the tail plug beneath tugged every time I moved. My lips were glossy, my lashes thick with mascara.

Petal. That was my name now.

Seraphine entered, wearing a sheer black gown that shimmered with every step. She held something behind her back.

"Tonight, you perform."

My heart dropped.

She stepped aside, revealing a tall man with sharp features, dressed in black like a gentleman--but his eyes were cruel.

"This is Victor. An old friend. He's curious about my progress."

Victor looked me over, smirking. "You weren't lying. That's a pretty little toy you've made."

Shame burned through me. I tried to cover myself, but Seraphine slapped my hands away.

"No hiding. Show him who you are."

"P-please..."

"Silence. Position Two."

Without thinking, I dropped into the pose--knees together, hands cupping my fake chest, mouth open in a painted 'O'. I hated that I obeyed so quickly. But my body betrayed me.

Victor chuckled. "You trained him to be a doll. Impressive."

"Her," Seraphine corrected.

Victor grinned wider. "Of course. Forgive me, Petal."

I blushed deeper. The humiliation twisted something in me, deep and dark.

"Let's show Victor your training. Positions--run them all."

My limbs moved automatically. One through Five. Bowing, crawling, presenting, squatting. Each transition triggered the tail plug, made the cage press harder. They watched as I danced like a puppet. My face burned.

"You see how responsive she is now? No hesitation. Just pure submission."

Victor nodded. "May I?"

Seraphine gestured. "Of course. Gently."

He stepped closer and ran a gloved finger down my cheek. I flinched.

"You're adorable," he said. "You used to be some hotshot, right? Now look at you."

His hand slid down, tapped the cage lightly. "Tiny. Powerless. Just the way she likes you."

"Position Three," Seraphine said.

I dropped to all fours, tail in the air. My cheeks burned. I could feel both their eyes on me.

Victor laughed. "She's a masterpiece. You should bring her to the Den."

Seraphine smiled. "That's the plan. Public humiliation is next. But for now... obedience drills."

She turned to me. "Mistakes will cost more than slaps from now on."

I trembled, head bowed, unable to stop the shame flooding through me.

---

The door clicked shut behind Victor. I dropped to the floor, legs aching, throat raw. My cheeks still burned from the performance.

But Seraphine wasn't done.

"Crawl to me, Petal."

I obeyed, knees sore against the hardwood, the tail tugging deeper with each inch forward. My mascara had run down my cheeks, a mess of black tears. When I reached her heels, I pressed my lips to them.

She sighed, tilting my chin up. "You did well. Not perfectly, but well."

My heart fluttered. A crumb of approval, and I was starving.

"I'm proud of how far you've come," she whispered. "But this is still just the start."

She circled me like a predator.

"You used to laugh at me, remember? That night at the bar--you and your friends. You spilled your drink on me and said I looked like a 'discount Morticia.'"

I winced. "I... didn't mean--"

She pressed a heel down on the cage. I gasped.

"But now, Petal," she said sweetly, "you wear shame on your body. Isn't that fitting?"

I nodded. Or tried to. It came out more like a whimper.

She reached for a bag and pulled out a collar--thicker than the training ones. Black leather, silver D-ring, and a small heart-shaped tag that jingled.

Seraphine clipped it around my neck. It clicked shut. No key.

"You'll wear this for our little outing tomorrow."

"O-outing?"

She leaned in. "To The Den."

The name hit me like a punch. I had heard her whisper about it during training. The place where Dommes brought their toys to show them off--to use them, break them, parade them.

"B-but I'm not ready!"

"You weren't ready for the cage either. Or for the plug. Or for Victor. And yet--"

She flicked a finger against the metal cage.

"--you drip through your panties."

I blushed violently. I hadn't noticed.

"Tomorrow, you'll serve drinks at my side. You'll be introduced. And then, maybe--if you're good--we'll let the others play."

I froze. The idea of strangers... seeing me like this... using me...

She smiled. "Scared?"

I nodded.

"Good. Fear keeps you obedient."

She pulled me onto her lap like a doll, unzipped her dress slowly, revealing skin pale and smooth like marble. Her fangs showed.

"Tonight, you rest in my bed. Tomorrow, you belong to the world."

She tilted my head and sank her teeth into my neck.

Pain. Pleasure. Helplessness.

I moaned. And the last thing I heard before the world blurred was her whisper:

"Petal, you were born for this."

---

Sunlight never touched these walls. Not a single ray breached the velvet curtains that sealed her world in crimson darkness. I woke curled at the foot of her bed, still in last night's humiliating outfit. My body ached. My neck throbbed. The collar still jingled softly every time I moved.

She was already awake, lounging in front of her mirrored vanity, brushing her long, black hair. She looked like royalty. No--like a goddess who fed on worship.

"On your knees, Petal."

I obeyed, crawling across the cold floor, heart hammering. The mirror beside her gave me a full view of myself: smeared makeup, bed-tousled wig, and a pink pacifier that had been slipped between my lips sometime during the night.

She didn't even glance at me.

"Today is important. And you're going to look the part."

She gestured to a garment bag hanging nearby. I opened it with shaking hands.

Inside was the most humiliating outfit yet: a frilly maid dress--baby pink, puffed sleeves, lace-trimmed apron, and a skirt so short it would expose everything. Panties with "cockless cutie" embroidered on the back. White knee-high socks with bows. And patent heels so high I'd need help walking.

I turned, lips trembling. "Please... I can't wear this in front of others."

She finally met my gaze.

"You already are this, Petal. The only difference today is who gets to see."

My breath caught.

She stood, gliding over to me with the dress in hand. "Arms up."

I obeyed. She dressed me piece by piece, adjusting the frills, tugging the stockings, tightening the corset until I whimpered. Then came the makeup--heavier than usual. Rouge circles on my cheeks, glossy pink lips, lashes so fake they fluttered when I blinked.

She slipped a choker over the collar and clipped on a silver tag that read: Sissy Petal: Do Not Touch Without Permission

Then she clipped a leash to the D-ring.

"From now on," she said, tightening the leash until I gasped, "you will call me Mistress. Every time. No exceptions."

"Yes.... Mistress," I whispered, the words leaving my lips like a vow.

"Stand."

I stumbled in the heels, the tail plug shifting with every step. I caught my reflection again--and my knees buckled. I didn't look like me anymore. I looked like a living doll. A plaything.

She held the leash tight. "We leave in twenty minutes. I want you silent, trembling, and dripping by the time we arrive."

I nodded, swallowing tears.

She leaned in close, voice a whisper of silk and venom.

"Today, the world will see what you really are."

It began with a leash.

A soft click as Mistress fastened it to my collar. That sound did something to me--stripped away whatever fragments of dignity I'd tried to salvage since she dressed me in this absurd, humiliating outfit. The maid dress flounced with every step, the frills brushing my thighs, the chastity cage tight beneath embroidered panties. My heels clicked helplessly across the stone floor, echoing down the dark hall as she led me forward.

We descended.

The Den wasn't a place for normal people. It pulsed with desire and danger. Red-lit lanterns swayed from the ceiling. Velvet curtains framed corridors that whispered of hidden chambers. Music throbbed low and slow like a heartbeat. And everyone we passed looked at me. No--stared.

Mistress walked like she owned the place. And maybe she did. The way others stepped aside, nodding respectfully, said enough. But me? I followed like a painted fool. Face made up like a doll's, lips glossy, fake lashes fluttering. My knees trembled--not just from the heels, but from the fear. The shame.

We emerged into the lounge.

It was massive--an open atrium beneath a domed ceiling, golden cages hanging from chains above, and platforms scattered like islands. Dominants lounged on low velvet couches, glasses in hand, while subs crawled, knelt, danced, or whimpered nearby. The smell of leather, perfume, and sweat hung heavy.

And all eyes turned when we entered.

Mistress didn't pause. She gave the leash a tug. "Chin up, Petal."

My cheeks burned. My throat caught. But I obeyed.

She led me to a raised stage, small and circular, with a spotlight above. There were cuffs on the floor. A low pole. A plush bench. She guided me to the center, made me kneel, and secured my wrists behind my back with a quick snap of cold metal. Then the ankles--locked apart into position, forcing my skirt to ride up and flash the crowd. She adjusted the leash so it held my head upright. I was a display now.

She walked around me slowly, letting the crowd drink in every inch of me. The skirt that barely covered anything. The cage poking beneath sheer lace. The pink blush on my cheeks, matching the bows on my socks.

"This one," she said loud enough for the lounge to hear, "used to be a man with pride. Arrogant. Dismissive. Even mocked me once in front of others."

Laughter rippled through the room.

"But I don't believe in vengeance." She smiled, cold and perfect. "I believe in transformation."

She came to a stop before me. "Tell them your name."

I couldn't. My lips trembled. The humiliation twisted in my gut.

"Tell them, Petal."

"... Petal," I whispered.

"Louder."

"My name is Petal."

The crowd chuckled. Mistress ran a finger down my cheek.

"Good girl."

Every word chipped away at who I was. And worse--I felt it. The heat between my legs, the ache in my chest. Even as tears stung my eyes, the cage throbbed helplessly.

Mistress turned to the crowd. "Let's give them a proper show, shall we?"

She pulled something from her coat. A remote.

My breath hitched. The plug inside me began to buzz.

The audience leaned forward.

And I--bound, helpless, thighs spread, trembling in shame--could only moan softly as the spotlight burned brighter above me.

---

The buzzing grew stronger.

I whimpered, struggling against the cuffs. Not to escape--there was no point--but to find something solid in a world spinning out of control. Mistress didn't even look at me. She was too busy addressing the audience like I was a menu item being read out loud.

"Observe," she said, stepping behind me. "How far a little humiliation can go when the soul is cracked open."

The remote clicked. A jolt pulsed deep inside me. My back arched involuntarily. My mouth opened in a soft, trembling gasp I couldn't contain.

She snapped her fingers. A spotlight shifted to a nearby table. On it: a feather duster, a pacifier, a frilly apron, nipple clamps with tiny bells, a full-sized mirror, and a small blackboard that read: "Petal's Duties" in pink cursive.

The crowd laughed.

"Tell me, Petal," she purred. "Do you think this plug buzzing in your ass makes you more obedient? Or just more pathetic?"

"I-I don't kn--"

"Wrong answer."

She pulled my leash tight, forcing my head back.

"You love it," she said, her voice calm and cruel. "Because pathetic little sissy maids live for the attention--even if it's shameful. Especially if it's shameful."

A woman in the front row lifted her glass. "I want her to curtsy."

Mistress smiled. "Petal, curtsy for Mistress Clarisse."

I hesitated.

The buzz intensified.

Mistress reached down and unclipped my wrists from behind. "Go on then," she whispered. "Show them your manners."

Freed but trembling, I slowly lifted the hem of my skirt with both hands, bent my knees into an awkward, shaky curtsy.

The bells on my nipple clamps jingled as the crowd howled.

"Now thank her," Mistress ordered.

"T-Thank you, Mistress Clarisse," I stammered.

More laughter. More shame.

Mistress reattached the cuffs after the curtsy, clipped to a loop at the small of my back this time. Then she unhooked the leash from the ceiling and walked me, knees shaking, toward the mirror. She made me look.

"Say it," she whispered.

"I'm... I'm a stupid little doll." I swallowed hard. "A dumb, leaking, locked-up sissy maid."

"Again."

"I'm a dumb, leaking, locked-up sissy maid."

Her hand found the remote again. A new setting.

The buzzing turned to pulses. Rhythmic. Merciless.

I dropped to my knees, writhing, humiliated beyond words--every eye on me. Every laugh echoing in my ears.

And Mistress? She just watched, calm, sipping her drink. Like she was proud of her art.

--

The lights above dimmed slightly, casting an amber hue over my exposed skin. My body was already flushed from the heat and attention--but now, it felt like I was on fire.

Mistress walked a slow circle around me, heels clicking, leash dangling from her fingers.

She stopped in front of me. Tilted my chin up with a single finger.

She clipped the leash back to my collar and gave a gentle tug. I followed--barefoot, trembling--toward a low bench placed center-stage. On it sat a thick dildo mounted upright, glossy and veined.

"Knees," she said.

I obeyed.

The dildo loomed in front of me like a monument to every shred of dignity I'd lost. I didn't dare look up. The room had grown too quiet. I knew every eye was locked on me.

"Let's see that pretty mouth," Mistress said sweetly.

She tapped the head of the dildo. I hesitated.

Whirr. The remote buzzed.

My whole body jolted. I let out a squeal--and instinctively opened my mouth.

"That's better. Lick it. Slowly."

I leaned forward, tongue trembling, and gave the dildo a long, shaky lick from base to tip. The crowd erupted.

"Good sissy," she purred. "Now take it in."

I wrapped my lips around the head, cheeks flushing deeper than ever. The feeling was surreal. My own body was betraying me--buzzing, aching, eager.

"Use those eyes," she said. "Look at me. Let them see how much you need this."

I did. Tears stung my lashes, but I held eye contact while my mouth moved up and down slowly, sucking Mistress's chosen shame.

"Let's add a little rhythm."

She snapped her fingers again. The speakers came alive--an upbeat, degrading pop song started playing.

"Dance, Petal," she ordered. "Hands behind your head. Grind your hips. Let's see that wiggle."

I pulled off the dildo, breathless, the buzz in my rear never ceasing. I stood unsteadily, placed my hands behind my head, and began to sway my hips to the rhythm.

The bells on my clamps jingled with every move. My skirt fluttered. I could feel the plug shift inside with every thrust and twist.

Laughter. Whistles. Applause.

"Our little doll has rhythm," Mistress teased. "Isn't she just adorable?"

"Do a spin!"

"Blow kisses!"

The crowd shouted commands, and Mistress let them flow. I twirled, blew kisses, even curtsied again mid-dance. The humiliation was endless.

"Look at you," she said, stepping beside me. "What would your old self say, hmm? The proud man who thought women were beneath him?"

I wanted to hide.

Instead, I danced.

---

The music faded out, but the laughter lingered. I was panting softly, hair stuck to my cheeks, chest rising and falling with effort and humiliation. Mistress gave my leash a tug, and I stumbled forward, nearly tripping in my heels.

She caught me with a firm grip on my waist. "Careful, doll. You'll scuff your pretty knees."

A table rolled in from the side, pushed by two leather-clad assistants. On it lay items I didn't recognize: a dog bowl filled with pink liquid, a tray of glittery cookies shaped like hearts, a pair of pink mittens, and what looked like a small baby bib.

Mistress held up the bib for the crowd to see. It read: "Good Girls Swallow" in glittery lettering.

"Feeding time," she announced. "A true maid must know how to serve--and be served."

I was guided down onto all fours. The mittens were slipped onto my hands, soft and useless. I couldn't grip anything. My leash was clipped again to the floor, keeping my neck in place.

Mistress tied the bib around my neck, the plastic crinkling loudly. Then she placed the dog bowl in front of me.

"Drink, Petal. No hands."

I leaned in, stuck out my tongue, and began to lap it up like a housepet.

Every sound I made--every slurp, every swallow--was met with mocking gasps and laughter.

"Oh, she's such a hungry girl," one woman said.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I just kept lapping, cheeks burning, tongue growing tired.

Mistress crouched beside me, stroking my hair like I was her pet. "Good girl. Once you finish your drink, you get a treat."

I didn't know whether to feel dread or relief.

Eventually, the bowl was empty. My face was sticky, lips coated, hair damp.

Mistress lifted one of the cookies and held it in front of my mouth.

"Say thank you."

"T-Thank you, Mistress," I murmured.

She popped the heart-shaped cookie into my mouth and tapped my cheek.

Then she stood up and faced the crowd. "You see, this is what real power looks like. Not brute force--but willing surrender."

"What's next?" someone shouted.

Mistress turned to me, her voice low and dripping with command. "Up, Petal. On your knees."

My body obeyed before my mind caught up. I pushed myself upright, legs trembling, arms still bound tight behind me in padded mittens that crushed any sense of independence. The ache in my knees spread like fire through my thighs, but the pain was a distant hum next to the thundering beat of shame in my chest. The bib still clung to my front, plastered with droplets of spit and a faint pink blush from the lighting, an unmissable sign of my new place in the world.

Mistress crouched beside me, her hand curling around my leash. Her voice dipped lower, intimate. "You're going to crawl to every guest in the front row. You're going to stop at their feet, look into their eyes, and say--clearly and sweetly--'May I please suck your cock / pussy, sir / ma'am?' Understand?"

I swallowed, my mouth dry. My heart hammered. "Y-Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Make me proud."

The leash clicked free from the floor. A soft push to my shoulder sent me crawling forward--past her heels, across the stage, toward the front row of people, each one waiting to see me debase myself.

The first man leaned back in his seat, legs wide, a drink in one hand, curiosity in his smirk. I reached him, my face flushed and chest heaving. I looked up, blinking under the stage lights.

"M-May I please suck your cock, sir?"

Laughter erupted all around. Not cruel. Not kind. Just entertained.

He chuckled, reaching forward to flick a strand of my hair. "Not tonight, sissy. But that was adorable."

"Next," Mistress called.

I shuffled to the next person--a woman this time, wearing tight leather and red lipstick that shimmered under the lights.

"M-May I please suck your pussy, ma'am?"

She burst into laughter. "Aw, poor baby. Lost and confused already?"

The next man made me repeat myself twice, each time louder and with more sway in my hips. "Put some sugar in your tone," he teased, "like you're desperate."

"Please... please let me suck your cock, sir," I whimpered, writhing just slightly.

He grinned. "Better. Maybe later."

By the fourth person, I was trembling with humiliation. My words grew breathy, my body responding instinctively to the audience's energy, like I was on autopilot.

"Please, sir, let me serve your cock. I'll be your good little toy..."

Cheers erupted when one man let me kiss the tip of his boot, pressing my lips against the glossy leather.

"She's learning! Look at her blush!"

Another person grabbed a fistful of my wig and made me nuzzle against their crotch, pulling a gasp from the crowd.

"She loves it!"

I could barely think. My limbs felt numb. I was no longer moving on my own--I was being puppeted by Mistress's will, the humiliation fueling something deeper inside me.

When I turned back toward center stage, Mistress was waiting, arms folded across her chest, chin lifted with triumph.

"Crawl, Petal. Come back to me."

I obeyed, knees sliding across the floor.

Mistress gave a sharp tug on the leash as I reached her feet. I stopped crawling instantly, chest heaving from exertion and shame. The crowd's laughter still echoed behind me like a loop I couldn't escape.

She stepped over me, circling slowly, letting the silence build. Then she turned and snapped her fingers.

"Dance for them again, Petal. Show them how a sissy like you celebrates humiliation."

My eyes went wide. "M-Mistress?"

Her hand wrapped tightly around the leash, yanking me up to my knees.

"Did I stutter?"

"No, Mistress..."

"Good. Then get up--try to stand, if you can--and give them a show. No hands, so figure it out. I want hips swaying, ass shaking, and a smile on that dumb little face. Or would you rather do it with a plug that vibrates every time you stop moving?"

That threat alone gave me strength. I shifted onto one knee, then the other, my balance wobbly. I leaned into the cuffs securing my arms behind me, thighs trembling as I struggled upright. A wave of cheers met me as I awkwardly rose to a half-standing pose, legs bent, teetering on unsteady heels.

The music thumped faintly in the background now--some sultry jazz beat, slow and hypnotic.

I tried. I swayed.

The first few hip movements were jerky, unsure. My skirt fluttered with each clumsy wiggle, revealing the pink panties stretched embarrassingly over my bulge. My face burned as I forced a smile, mouthing something close to enjoyment while my mind screamed in shame.

"Higher! Shake that ass, Petal!" someone shouted.

Mistress just watched, arms crossed, proud. "Now blow kisses. Spin. Give them twirls like a little ballerina."

I obeyed. Each turn sent my skirt flaring up, my chest bouncing with the effort. Laughter and applause surrounded me. I spun again, trying to keep my balance as my ankles strained in the delicate heels. The lights, the heat, the sounds--it all blurred together until I was just a painted puppet in a pink costume, dancing for strangers.

"Now stop," Mistress commanded.

I froze.

"Turn to face the back wall. Bend over. Wiggle it."

There were whistles. Claps.

I bent, as deep as I could with bound arms. The cheeks of my panties stretched tight. I gave a shaky little shake.

Someone shouted, "You call that a wiggle?"

A firm slap landed on my ass.

"More," Mistress purred.

I wiggled again, harder. A second slap. Laughter, again.

Then she said, "Now repeat after me. 'I am a dancing cock-hungry doll.'"

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I repeated it. "I--I am a dancing cock-hungry doll."

"Louder."

"I am a dancing cock-hungry doll!"

"Good girl. Let's see how long you can keep that up."

Mistress let the words hang in the air, her eyes locked onto mine with delicious cruelty. She didn't need to say it again. The leash gave one more commanding tug, and I knew the game wasn't over--it was just shifting into a darker gear.

"On your knees again, Petal," she said, already moving toward the center of the stage.

I dropped down clumsily, heels scraping against the floor. My arms, now re-clipped securely behind my back in the leather mitts, limited my balance, and I nearly toppled forward. A ripple of laughter echoed through the Den.

Mistress stepped behind me, speaking clearly for the audience. "What do we do with a little doll who thinks dancing's the most humiliating thing she'll endure?"

"Break her," someone shouted.

"Use her!"

Mistress smiled. "Precisely."

She lifted a small pink cone from the props table and presented it for all to see--a gag shaped like a pacifier, but disturbingly large. "Let's keep our sissy quiet, for now."

I whimpered, but the crowd encouraged her. "Gag her! Plug her up!"

Mistress stepped forward, pushed my head gently back, and worked the pacifier into my mouth. My jaw strained around it. It filled my cheeks, stretched my lips into a permanent pout. I could only breathe through my nose, eyes already watering from the pressure.

"Now crawl again," she ordered.

I started forward. My body was hot with embarrassment, the pacifier bouncing stupidly as I crawled. I was a gagged doll, waddling forward on all fours, cheeks flushed and heart pounding with every humiliating inch.

"Slower, sissy. Let them watch you struggle."

Mistress stopped me near the foot of the stage. "Now, put on a show for our friend here."

The man in the front row leaned forward, unbuckling his belt slowly. Mistress didn't let him go further--she held out a rubber dildo and handed it to him with a wink.

"Give her this instead. Let's see how well she practices."

He accepted it, amused. I could barely lift my head. Mistress positioned me upright, on my knees again, and nodded. "Now, show him how grateful you are."

He held the dildo out like a treat for a begging pet. The pacifier came out. My lips parted in silent surrender. I leaned forward, cheeks burning, and took the tip into my mouth.

Cheers erupted.

I worked the toy as best I could--awkwardly, sloppily, with no hands. The stage lights caught the gloss of spit as it ran down my chin. My gag reflex flared, but I pushed down, driven by fear, training, and her unrelenting presence.

Mistress crouched behind me, fingers stroking down my back. "Look at that. Just a few days ago, this one called me a freak. Now look who's drooling over rubber."

The dildo slid deeper. I gagged, pulled back, only to be met with a slow, firm push forward.

"Keep going, Petal. I want to see you earn your name."

--

The dildo slid in and out of my mouth, slick with my spit and shame. Every push and pull echoed with the laughter and jeers of the crowd. I couldn't look up. My lashes fluttered with tears, but I didn't dare stop.

Mistress stood above me, one heel placed dominantly between my spread knees, grinding against the stage floor. Her voice purred above the noise.

"That's it, Petal. Just like a good little cock-sleeve. Suck like it's the only thing keeping your dumb little brain working."

The man held the toy steady, letting me find my own rhythm. My neck moved in steady, humiliating bobs, drool hanging from my chin to the floor. My body ached, my knees bruised. But I obeyed. I had no choice. Not with her eyes locked on me. Not with that leash tight in her grip.

Mistress raised her voice. "Who here thinks our Petal deserves a reward?"

Scattered voices shouted. "Yes!" "Make her beg for it!" "Chastity check!"

Mistress chuckled, stepping forward, and lifting my chin. "Let's see how she's holding up."

She slid her hand under the hem of my skirt, pressing her fingers against the locked cage between my thighs. I whimpered audibly.

"So wet," she announced. "So desperate. Poor thing can't even leak without permission."

Then she let go and turned to the crowd. "But I don't think she's earned anything *yet*, do you?"

More laughter. More noise.

"Up, Petal. Kneel straight. Show everyone your pretty face."

I pulled back from the dildo, lips swollen, chin slick, chest heaving. I knelt tall--or tried to. My arms were still cuffed tight behind me, forcing my chest forward in a pathetic parody of elegance. Mistress moved behind me and unclipped the mitts at last. My shoulders ached in release, but I didn't move.

She leaned down, whispering in my ear. "Hands on your thighs. Back straight. Chin up. Smile, doll."

I obeyed.

Her fingers traced down my jaw, lifting my head just a little higher. "Now, tell them who you are."

I swallowed hard. The silence that followed was deafening.

"I-I'm Petal... Mistress Evelyn's sissy plaything."

"Louder."

"I'm Petal! Mistress Evelyn's sissy. Her toy. Her doll."

Cheers erupted again.

"Good girl."

She turned to the audience. "Now, this is where our show ends for tonight. But don't worry--Petal will be back. And next time, maybe she'll get to serve more than just rubber."

The spotlight dimmed slightly. Mistress lifted her boot and gently pressed it to my shoulder, easing me down until I lay flat at her feet.

The audience applauded as I curled into a small, trembling shape, skirt pooled around me, pacifier hanging loosely from my lips.

Mistress gave one final tug of the leash and posed, regal and triumphant.

"And that... is how you break a man."