The Collar Club, cont'd

So, here's Chapter Three! Hope you're enjoying the early look!

CHAPTER THREE

While The Collar Club was not remote, it sat near the edge of city limits, just on the other side so that it had only to abide by the laws of the county. That location also invited others from nearby towns to come. Considering The Collar Club existed in a state only civilized in comparison to the further wilds, people from miles around who were interested in the kinkier side of life were aware of its coming. The décor was coming along, lost of blacks and reds, of course, and the interior of the place looked more like a bar than it had only a few days before. The irony of the place’s surprising transformation was not lost on Eliot as he navigated through the piles of chairs yet to be arranged. It was midday, and not even a Saturday could prevent work from continuing.

“There you are!”

Eliot’s hands shook at his sides, and he worried his heart would seize in his chest at the rate it pumped. He turned to his left, where Carmen Nyte stood in the doorway leading to the offices of The Collar Club. She had a hand on her hip and another against the doorway posed to evaluate Eliot as he stood looking lost and frightened in the swirl of construction around him. She wore some kind of rubber pants, and Eliot couldn’t find where the heels started and the leggings began. Seamless, shining black standing on spikes, and a corset top of blue that lifted her breasts. Her dark was loose, and the tight curls lay atop one another on a wide display of proud raven hair. White skin and very red lips shone from beneath, accompanied by bright green eyes that always smiled.

“Well, are you coming?” she asked.

“Uh, yes,” he stammered and scurried to Carmen. He had to look up into her face, making him feel all the more small and insignificant.

“Couple of things up front, sweetie. When you answer me, you don’t do it with an ‘uh, yeah,” she said, adopting a caveman voice for her imitation of him, complete with a sloop of her shoulders. “We will begin with a simple ‘yes, Miss’ and ‘no, Miss.’ Understand?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Better. Come with me, then.”

While Carmen’s tone was firm, it wasn’t cruel. There was a warm correction in it, a setting of expectations without judgment. Eliot followed behind Carmen, unable to keep his off her round backside for long, until he was taken to the office, empty besides the two of them. Carmen stood to the side and ushered Eliot in before shutting the door behind them and taking a seat behind the dark burnished desk. She gestured to one of the seats before the desk and Eliot sat, gripping the sides of the chair to keep his restless hands from their ceaseless shaking.

Carmen tented her fingers and crossed her legs behind the desk, studying Eliot. “You’re small,” she pronounced.

“Yes, Miss.”

“That’s not a bad thing. You are quivering, you know that?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Carmen laughed. “This is never going to work if you can’t speak, Cindee.”

Eliot blushed a deeper red, discernible even in the soft light of the office.

Carmen sighed, looking pointedly at Eliot. “You are a shy thing. We’ll have to break you of that soon enough. Let me ask you something, Cindee, why did you come here today?”

“Because you asked me to.”

“You could have stayed home. Hung up, blocked my number, called the police. But you came here.”

Eliot squirmed in his chair, looking at every point in the room besides Carmen. He could feel the weight of her gaze. He was terrified of saying finally what he felt for so long. She was right. Why had he come if he was only going to sit nervously in a chair like an idiot.

“I like dressing up,” he said, a tumble of words piled on top of each other on their way out of his mouth. Once they were out, he felt lighter. “I always have. Ever since I can remember, anyway.”

He looked up. Carmen was smiling at him, but it was not victorious. It was understanding. Encouragement.

“I dress at home a lot. It’s the most comfortable I am all day. Not doing anything special, just sitting on the sofa with a nice dress on.”

“And you feel sexy when you’re dressed that way.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded along. “What else?”

“I’m sorry?” Carmen had only to lift her eyebrows and fix her gaze before Eliot corrected himself. “I’m sorry, Miss?”

“Dressing up is one thing. Coming to my place of business at my behest to discuss it is another. I have the feeling that you like a strong woman.”

His voice softened. “Yes, Miss.”

“Someone who enjoys being in control. And someone who could help you explore these feelings of yours.”

His eyes rose and the expression on his face was eager. “Yes, Miss.”

“Go on. This isn’t an interrogation.”

“It’s just something I’ve always carried around with me. A secret thing. Something I could only express alone, so I guess I’ve been alone a lot. Maybe that’s why I like strong women. Or maybe I just think strong women are sexy. I don’t know how to untangle all of that.”

“And while we’re putting our cards on the table, Cindi, I am both a personal and professional Dominant. What that means for you is that while I have certain obligations at the club, certain clients that I attend, I also live the lifestyle. I’m lucky that I can afford to live exactly how I want. And I enjoy a companion. Special girls like you. The last of mine went and got a sex change on me. Married to her girlfriend now.” Carmen laughed. “And so I don’t have that special someone in my life. And neither do you. What I propose is we try one another on, see how we fit.”

“I don’t completely understand.” Eliot was leaning forward in his chair, hanging on Carmen’s every word. She was both in charge and welcoming, a combination he hadn’t expected. It was disarming.

“Will you let me show you? For just a bit? You can walk away after, no hard feelings. Well, hopefully, some hard feelings,” she chuckled.

“What do I have to do?”

Carmen stood, looking like a monolith in rubber as she stepped around the desk and extended her hand to Eliot. “For now, take my hand.”

Eliot looked at it, the slender fingers, the long nails, decorated in red polish that glowed crimson. His eyes flitted to Carmen's, and he took her hand.

He remembered the hallway. It surprised him the level of detail he could recall and how naturally it felt to follow Carmen back to that place. The place where she surely saw him laid bare, how his pulse quickened when the door opened and he found himself inside the pink room. His heart beat no less now. The cords in his neck tightened and his fists clenched at his sides.

“Oh sweetie,” Carmen said, closing the door behind him. “you look nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Something my grandmother used to say.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, then, “Sorry, yes, Miss.”

“Good girl. You’re learning.”

Carmen slinked past him and leaned back on the bed, crossing her long legs and watching him from her pose. The bright pink color seared his mind. Eliot loved the softness he felt being inside the room, and nowhere was a gorgeous woman who filled him with the hope that this secret shame of his might be something more than a hidden fetish. If he was brave enough.

“I need you to strip, Cindi. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Bravery. Just a little, he assured himself. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it free of his dark pants, revealing the undershirt beneath.

“Lean,” Carmen mused. “That’s good. Keep going, honey.”

Off came the undershirt and then his shoes, all pushed into a growing pile beside his feet. Then socks, then he had only his belt to unbuckle. He shook while he slid his pants to the ground. Underneath was the pair of panties contained in the box Carmen sent. When she saw them, she squealed and clapped her hands together.

“You’re trying to get in my good graces, Cindi. But I respect it. How do they feel?”

“Expensive, Miss,” Eliot said.

“Good. They were. But a girl like you, Cindi, she deserves only the finest. Open the wardrobe.”

Carmen watched ‘Cindi’ cross the foot of the bed and open the twin doors. She smiled to herself seeing his shaved legs. They suggested femininity already. Inside the cabinet was a line of dresses and costumes, all sealed inside the plastic of a dry cleaner.

“On the right, the very last.”

It hardly looked like a dress at all. It was a pale pink, a sleeve of fabric. It looked impossible that it could be used as an article of clothing. There wasn’t nearly enough of it, even for his small frame.

“Put it on. Legs first. You’re going to have to wiggle it up your body. Don’t be shy about enjoying that part, you minx.”

Eliot laughed as he followed the instruction. The fabric hit his upper thighs and he had to tug it up. Carmen was right, he had to sway his hips and hop to get the thing up his body. It was unforgiving, clinging to every part of him and landing just above his nipples. It was awkward and shameful, the way his too-male body stretched the tube dress. Still, it fit, and that was something Eliot wouldn’t have bet on before doing his twisting dance to fit it on.

“The shoes, too,” Carmen instructed, pointing to the right of the open wardrobe again. It was clear the shoes she meant. They were the same color as the dress.

Eliot planted a hand on the wardrobe to steady himself while he slipped his feet into the heels. They sported a three-inch lift. Eliot had tried some heels in his past, but his balance was all off in them. It was like standing on stilts, and he worried his ankle was going to bend in a way that sent him to the hospital for a fracture.

“Have a seat at the vanity.”

Eliot looked across the room like it was a city mile. He mustered his resolve and took careful steps, one before the other on his passage to the vanity’s chair.

“Stop!” Carmen commanded, raising her hand in a traffic cop’s gesture. “You are clomping around like a construction worker. Heels are about grace and balance and being light on your toes. Back to start and try again, this time with a touch less Boris Karloff.”

Eliot blushed, but he laughed too. So, she wasn’t one of those dominatrix types with a whip and chains. Or not with him. Eliot tried to recalibrate his walk on the journey back to the wardrobe.

“Don’t be afraid to let your ass swing some, sweetie,” Carmen grinned.

Eliot flushed, but he allowed his hips to waggle a bit more. It helped. He was more confident on his way back across the room to the vanity. Carmen voiced no complaints, so he pulled back the chair and sat, grateful to be off the heels. He was looking at himself, then at Carmen behind, still on the bed. She looked pleased.

“Close your eyes, Cindi.”

He did.

“I want you to feel your body. Your panties. The dress. Savor that feeling. And tell me if this isn’t the you inside. The one you have kept hidden. The one that you are ashamed of. I want you to forget that’s hame for one second, and allow yourself to be the person you dream of.”

Eliot closed his eyes while she spoke. There was a sweet scent of floral perfume in the air. The room was cool, but not cold. His cock was stirring in his panties, undeniably aroused by the combination of the scene in which he found himself and the woman who spoke softly and sweetly to him.

“Do you want to continue, Cindi?”

“Yes, Miss,” he said. Then, “Please.”

“Good girl.” Carmen sprang from the bed in a giddy hop, clapping her hands together. “Being the girl I think we both want isn’t an overnight thing. You’re still very hesitant, and that is understandable. But if you’ll trust me, I can show you what life could be. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said. She did not correct him for leaving out the honorific. The way he looked dreamily into the mirror and breathed his answer in a softer voice, she knew he was hers. For that night, at least.

“You sit right there. Step one, we need some new hair. Short is not the style for my girl. And while we can negotiate styles, you are blonde whether you like it or not. Any complaints?”

Carmen was already sifting through a drawer in the nightstand beside the bed. “No, Miss, I always liked blonde.”

Nothing fancy about it, the wig was platinum in color, long and straight. The kind of style for a model on the cover of Vogue. Eliot’s scalp was first covered by a cap, pins fixing it to his head, and then more pins to hold the wig in place. Carmen fussed and tugged, sometimes pulling his head hard to one side in her efforts. When he winced, she would murmur to him, soft reassurances. Her attention was firmly on the task at hand, but she still offered warmth.

“Look at that,” she whispered into Eliot’s ear when she was done. She stared over his shoulder into the mirror. In an instant, his features were shaded with femininity by the shape and color of his hair, but Carmen was far from done. “I think my Cindi is coming into focus. Now let’s add some color.”

The vanity was littered by makeup whose purpose Eliot couldn’t divine. But he watched, intent as any student, as Carmen uncapped jars to coat his face with foundation and brushed more color onto his cheeks, his eyelids. Lines were applied to mouth and eyes, and lips colored to match the dress he wore. It was like watching one of those old werewolf movies, Eliot thought, where shots are superimposed over the other to achieve a gradual transformation from man into beast. Only his view in the mirror as each layer of makeup was applied was of man into woman. When her gentle touches slowed then stopped, Carmen stepped back, evaluating her work.

“Stand up.”

Eliot did. Even in this motion, he projected grace and femininity. He stood on his heels, the dress highlighting the lack of curves, but only that shattered the illusion. His legs, already shaved, were slim in the pink heels. Carmen thought he had a nice little ass, too. The waist would need work, and so would his flat chest. But with his face made up, his lips took on a pouting, full aspect. His cheeks were high enough that a hint of blush could make them stark and lovely.

“You look beautiful, Cindi. How do you feel?”

Eliot’s head stole down for a moment, but lifted again to say, “I feel kinda beautiful, Miss.”

Carmen sat at the edge of the bed. Her gaze was a sultry glower. “Come here, sexy.” She patted her lap.

Eliot moved the short distance to the bed. He could feel his hips swaying as he did and it only aroused him more. Carmen’s height had the advantage of a big lap, and it fit Eliot’s smaller size well. He sat and wrapped an arm around Carmen’s back, not unlike a child. In many ways, he thought, something was being birthed in that room.

Carmen cuddled him close to her. Eliot was very aware of her breasts close to his face, and the way her hand held the back of his thigh. It was as if her embrace swallowed the whole of him, and he was happy to drown in it.

“You like being my girl, I think,” she said, nuzzling his nose with hers. He giggled, as girlish a sound as he’d ever made, and even Carmen looked surprised at the authenticity of the sound.

“I do, Miss.”

The hand on Eliot’s thigh moved, sliding up and around until it rested in his lap, beneath the short hem of the dress. A whimper escaped Eliot’s pink lips, stolen by Carmen’s kiss. He sagged into both the embrace and kiss, fully held by the larger woman. The kiss held, broke, then resumed more passionately. Carmen’s hand ventured further under the dress, folding around Eliot’s stiff member. With it swaddled in silk panties, Carmen stroked Eliot’s cock with maddening patience. He squirmed and gasped, but Carmen held him.

“Relax and enjoy, Cindi. It’s okay to feel pleasure. In fact, it’s one of my specialties.”

Eliot moaned, burying himself against Carmen, kissing her exposed neck and chest while she increased her pace. He was a simmering ball of lust when she leaned again to his ear.

“I want you to be my slut, Cindi. And all you have to do is just what you’re doing. This. Very. Second.”

Eliot exploded, his seed filling the panties and coating his rod. Carmen slowed her caress but didn't release. She kissed his cheeks and his lips.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.”