A New Prenuptial

By DX

Copyrighted 5/2002 All rights reserved.

The transformation was amazing.

Nora had always been beautiful. Distractingly beautiful. But there had always been something, like a cloud passing in front of the sun, that darkened her. 

It was her soul. 

A self serving, almost evil soul that bled away her beauty. I saw it from day one, but Oscar, rich, old and lonely Oscar never saw it, even after he married her. He never saw it until he walked in on her sucking off the cabana boy in the pool house.

That was six months ago.

Now she was dedicated to him, attentive. Her eyes sparkled only for him and her beauty; her neck snapping beauty that seemed to radiate even though almost half of her face was shielded by the smooth, featureless plate of the Chasti-gag.

Quite a change from six months ago.

She was amazingly passionate. Her sobs were timed by an atomic clock, her sighs plucked heart strings and her pitiful, yet hopeful, sapphire blue eyes sparkled as tears rimed her cheeks. I watched the show with stoic disinterest. She was playing the emotional game, soul manipulation; the pitiful young girl who made a tinsy winsy little mistake and if you could find in your heart to forgive her, start a clean slate, she would be such a good little girl, yours forever. Heart, soul and smoking hot body, all for you. It really was a good performance, one of the best I've ever seen, and I've seen more than my fair share. But she had to be good. Billions were at stake.

Nora Winslet, before saying 'I do' to become Mrs Nora Reinfield, signed a prenuptial agreement to the effect that if she ever cheated on her husband to be, their marriage would be annulled and she would not be entitled to a single cent of the Reinfield fortune. She would lose her massive monthly salary, custody of any children they might have had, and any chance at inheriting aging Oscar Reinfield's fortune. She'd be out on her butt instantly. The prenupt was air tight and upheld by numerous case precedent. It was the perfect contract.

I wrote it after all.

She sat across us with her lawyer, batting her eyes at her husband, so grateful for this second chance. I had prepped him, as any good lawyer, not to make eye contact with his young bombshell wife, but he was melting anyway. I had to keep this moving. If he caved, the plan would crash like a lead balloon.

I pushed the forms forward. "If you'll just sign these."

"Of course." She reached for them slowly.

Her lawyer pounced on them like a puma. This was their rehearsed roles. Evelyn Samson was one of the best divorce lawyers in the country. I should know, she had been my protege. Their best plan was to stall long enough for Oscar to melt and forgo the new pre-nupt and just take her back. Forgoing that, haggling.

Evelyn was all over it. "What is this about chastity devices?"

Nora's sweet innocent act slipped. "Chastity devices?"

"That's non-negotiable." I huffed. "Oscar has to be certain that Nora will remain faithful."

Evelyn shook her head. "Unacceptable. You're being barbaric and a chauvinist." She pushed the papers back at me. "When you're ready to join the 21st century, give us a call."

I scooped them up. "Good-day then."

Nora panicked when she saw Oscar slide his chair back. "Wait a minute." She squeaked.

Evelyn jumped in, almost surprised it was her client melting. She glared at me. "Cut me some slack here, Richard. You're not being reasonable. Besides you couldn't get this past a judge. There's Nora's health to consider." She leaned forward. "Feminine health."

I slid over a sleek aluminum case before them and opened it up casually.  Nestled in dense foam were gleaming golden toys from the Chasti-Permalock Corporation. "Welcome to the 21st century." I paused dramatically, letting the reflected light play off of Nora's young face. "Designed by women for women and takes into consideration all female sanitary needs. Lightweight, discrete and comfortable." I slid the brochure towards Nora. "Here are the specs."

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Copyrighted, 4.2024, all rights reserved.
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Retribution, Part 2
The Infomercial
by DX

Zach had it all.  The car, the easy executive job, the money, but it came at a cost.  Can he escape justice, or will he have to answer to the Chasti-Permalock company?

You may find Part 1 here:
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1164027


Copyright 2/2024 all rights reserved

His attention was pulled to the applause of the live audience and the confident voices of two saleswomen as they introduced the idea of Chasti-Permalock to the audience.

 “…using nanites, microscopic and powerful robots that live within the subject, our devices can be bound to the slave for as long as the mistress wants, even permanently!”

 Xander could hear the audience gasp in surprise.  Undaunted, the second presenter went on:  “To demonstrate this, we have slave Camille!  Let’s have a round of applause!”

 As they clapped, Xander looked up into the bank of monitors that captured the informercial’s feed.  He watched a woman balanced on ballet en-pointe shoes make her way up onto the stage.

 Xander could see two women, dressed in business attire and seated casually on tall stools, greet the pretty girl.  “Thank you for joining us, Camille.”  The first said as she rose up.  “Step right over here for me, center stage.”  She pointed to a blue mark on the floor.  “Please turn so the audience can see you.”

 Camille moved easily on her tip-toes.  She had blonde curly hair and expressive blue eyes.  She struggled to hold a brave, happy face.  “Yes, mistress.”

 “Please, call me Anne.  I’m the director of marketing for Chasti-Permalock.”  She motioned to her partner who was taking her place on Camille’s left.  “This is Frances, vice-chairwoman of development.  Thank you, Camille, for joining us today to share your Chasti-Permalock experience with our audience.  I see those lovely shoes.”

 Camille turned, and showed off her polished, silver shoes.  “Thank you.”  She said cutely, rather proud of them.

 Frances looked to the audience.  “Here we see the power of nanites.  They have painlessly reconstructed the bone and sinew of Camille’s feet to be in this severe position.  Even if she could remove these shoes, spoiler alert, she can’t, she would still only be able to walk on the very tips of her toes, en-point.”

 “Well, they are sexy as heck.”  Anne commented.  “And it is my understanding that you have a few more toys installed, is that right, Camille?”

 She pouted.  “Yeah.  Mistress locked me up good.”

 “Well, let’s show the audience, Camille!”  The audience gave her a light applause of encouragement, but Camille seemed hesitant.  “Don’t worry, we’re all adults here.”  Anne said with a warm smile.

 “Okay…”  She said and hiked up her skirt.  

 Xander watched as the camera zoomed in.  

 Covering her vagina was a gleaming metal disk.  It was polished silver, like her shoes.  In its center was an old fashioned key hole.

 The audience ooo-ed scandalously at the device.

 Frances then explained.  “This is our signature chasti-shield and vaginal plug.  It prevents all stimulation to the vaginal area.”  She reached down and tapped it, then outlined the edge.  “It’s flush; I can’t even get a fingernail under there.  No way that’s coming off without the key.”  She then looked at Camille.  “How’s the fit?”

 “I can feel the plug in there.  It makes me way horny!”  The slave whined.  

 Anne nodded, sympathetically.  “Why did your mistress lock you up?”

 Camille pouted.  “Because I liked sex too much!”

 “Is it because you liked to have sex with married men and then blackmail them?”  Anne countered.

 “Nuh uh!”  Camille protested.  “It’s not blackmail to ask for pretty things!”

 Anne gave a dubious glance at the audience who tittered with laughter.  “Sure, Camille.  Whatever you say.  Well, I bet you’d like to get your hands on the key.”  Anne reached into the vault of her cleavage and pulled out a heavy, old fashioned brass key.

 “My key!”  Camille squealed, then reached to snatch it from Anne.  Just as she was about to touch it, she balked, and jerked her hand back.  “Oh, uh, please… may I have my key?”

 Anne held it out for her.  “It’s right here.  Take it.”

 Camille took a half step back and put her hands behind her back.  “Would you please unlock me?  Just for a few minutes?  Please?  I’ll do anything for you!”  She smiled and licked her lips hungrily.  “I can make you happy!”  She lowered her gaze.  “Mistress likes it when I make her happy.  I bet you would like it too.”  Her tongue flashed again.

 Frances looked to the audience.  “Ladies and gentlepersons, what appears to be a plain, old style key, is in fact a computer module synched with Camille’s chastity devices.  Chasti-Permalocks cannot be picked, so that key is very important.  It is also coded to the nanites in Camille’s system.  If Camille gets within the key’s proximity, it will activate her punishment features, which have been set to none too pleasant.  The key will only work if it registers the bio-signature of someone other than Camille.”

 Camille pouted, and flashed her eyes at Frances.  “That’s true!”  She then pleaded to Anne.  “Please unlock me!  I’m so horny!  Mistress isn’t being fair.”

 Anne shook her head.  “I’m sorry, Camille.  In fact, that’s why you’re here today, isn’t it?  Your mistress is tired of you begging all the time and annoying her.”

 Camille flashed defiance.  “No!  Mistress won’t do it!  She won’t gag me!  I make her happy, and I can’t make her happy while I’m gagged!”  Camille stuck out her tongue, and flicked it like a serpent, much to the audience’s chagrin.  Camille smiled proudly.  “I can keep my mistress coming back for more!  She will never gag me!”

 “On the contrary!”  Anne announced proudly as she turned to greet a stagehand who brought over a small table.  On the table was a metal case, similar to the one Xander carried under his arm.  “Ladies and gentlepersons, let me present, the Chasti-Gag!”  Anne touched the key to the case and it sprang open.  Inside was a thick, bulging plug that looked enormous in Anne’s tiny hands.  She turned it to show one end was a shiny metal plate, similar to the vaginal shield Camille wore, with a key hole in its center.  She then turned it to give the audience a side view.  It was at least a foot long, and so fat Anne couldn’t encircle her fingers around its circumference.

 As the audience ooo-ed, Frances spoke up.  “I know it looks big, but it’s been custom engineered to Camille’s exact dimensions.  It will fit.”  She looked to Anne.  “Shall we get started?”

 Anne nodded.  “No time like the present!”  She chirped.

 Camille’s eyes grew with fear and trepidation as she tried to back away.  Frances cut off her retreat and held her steady.  Trapped between the two women, she pleaded to them.  “No, wait!  I’m sorry!  I can… gggullgg!”  

 As the girl protested, Anne skillfully wedged the fat plug into Camille’s open mouth.  With easy, half twists, the long rubbery shaft eased down the girl’s gagging throat.  Anne continued steadily, as the girl wretched.  Each time Camille thought her jaw couldn’t stretch open any further, Anne proved her wrong.

 “Easy now, almost there!”  Anne coached as she shifted the plug up down and side to side.  Slowly, Camille took the monster plug down her throat like a sword swallower.  Finally, the flanges of the gag slid behind the girl’s lips and in front of her teeth, filling her cheeks as it sank home, leaving the metal plate sitting flush against her face.  

 “There!”  Anne said, a little winded.  “Ladies and gentlepersons, doesn’t she look great!”

 The audience applauded warmly.

 “How does it feel, Camille?”  Frances asked.

 “MmmKKKKK!”  Just as Camille tried to murmur, her face twisted with sudden pain.

 Frances nodded knowingly.  “That is the pain compliance feature.  Your mistress was a little tired of your constant pestering to be unlocked from chastity.  This is a persistent, and progressive bio-electric feed back that uses your own body’s neural transmissions against you, meaning, the more you try to talk or make any sound, the more it hurts.”

 Anne turned to the audience.  “Oh, oh!  You all know what that means!”

 In a chorus, the audience shouted:  “Welcome to the world of silence!”

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Copyright 2/2024 all rights reserved
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Retribution
The Fugitive
By DX

Copyright 1/2024, all rights reserved.



Gently scraping the undercarriage, the Lamborghini Huracan pulled almost smoothly into the parking garage.  It revved its harsh, V-10 engine and killed anyone’s hearing in the echoy garage before it shut down in front of the attendant’s booth.

 The scissor door swung smoothly open and Zach clambered out, almost face-planting before recovering.  He stood nobly beside his beautiful car for just a moment, almost expecting someone to photograph his awesomeness.

 “Sir?”  The attendant’s voice called over the intercom system.  “You can’t park there.”

 Pretending he didn’t hear, Zach walked towards the elevator.  “Scratch it and I’ll have your hide.”  He called over his shoulder.  “That baby’s worth more than ten years your salary.”

 The attendant spilled out of the booth and shouted back.  “You know you can’t leave that there!  It’s not allowed!  It’s blocking traffic!  Gah!  We do you do this every freaking day!”

 From the elevator, Zach turned and smiled as the doors closed.

 When they opened again, Zach stepped out into the grand, bustling, open space of the Trulow lobby.  White and steel and expansive windows that looked out over the cityscape created the back ground, while in the foreground, executives wearing Italian Wool power-suits dashed frantically about with the ordered chaos of a kicked over ant’s nest.

 Zach let the wealth of his suit fan his aura of calm confidence as he made his way to the head of the line at security, ignoring the eyes of annoyance as he did.

 “I’m sorry sir,”  The guard stopped him as he reached for the ISO-pad.  “These people are ahead of you.”  He motioned to the line.

 Zach nodded, almost apologetically, and he pulled his hand back before suddenly thrusting it forward and touching the sensor.  His name, Zach T. popped up and the light flashed green.  “Oops!  Sorry.  I guess it will take longer to reset than to just let me by.”  He slipped past the guard, gesturing to the people behind him that the guard just made an error and was incompetent, and he was just as much a victim as they were.

 He took the escalator to the second tier, riding as if he manned the helm of a Spanish man-o-war.  At the crest, he turned and waved to crowds below and blew them a kiss, even though no one was watching.

 In his office, Zach poised to behold the spectacle of the city streets so far below.  Through the wide, expanse of tempered glass window, he watched them like bugs as they crawled their way through their lives.  He had once been like them, he mused, earning just enough to avoid being utterly crushed by his amassing debt, before he made a choice not to be poor.  That one decision sparked his meteoric rise.

 He wondered why those wretched, pathetic souls down below didn’t make the same choice.  

 Just don’t be poor, he thought to them.  Make that choice!  Until then, you deserve poverty.

 His computer powered up as he sat down in his ergonomic, custom chair.  Using just his eyes, he flashed through a myriad of e-mails and quickly assigned them priority according to his list: 

 1. Forward

 2. Re-direct 

 3. Ignore

 4. Place blame on others

 5. Fabricate evidence to make the blame on others solid

 6. Although not his direct mill-house he’d look into it while blaming others

 7. Blame others but willing to bail them out while re-directing it to others

 8. And delete.

 He glanced at the clock.  9:17 am.  A new record.

 He was done for the day.  All he needed now was to decide which of his many excuses he would use to spend the rest of the day playing golf.

 His door chime sounded sub-audibly, but his advanced auditory enhancement picked it up.  His eyes flashed towards the door and the heavy and aged oak became transparent to his enhanced sight.

 She was a delight.

 She was tall, and taller in her lovely heels.  Her calves hinted at muscle and long sessions on the stationary bike.  Her tight skirt did nothing to hide the magnificent sweep of her thighs and her masterful callipygian hips.  Her waist was neatly pinched, and her breasts swelled overflowing with life.  Her swan like neck went on for days.

 She had an aquiline face, a roguish cleft in her chin, and cheeks like candy apples.  Her inquisitive eyes were brown, like a slow moving deep river of chocolate, and her lips…

 He longed to kiss them and feel their soft warmth against him.

 He watched enrapt as she reached up and touched the door chime again.

 The door became solid.  “Come.”  He said sharply as he began to type on his desk top.

 He could feel her pull into the room as the air filled with the faint aura of apple blossoms.  “Is your keyboard not working?”  She asked with a handsome, alto-tenor voice.

 When he looked up bewildered, she leaned over, almost giving him a view into her lost mountain expedition cleavage, and waved her hand over a sensor on his desk.  The image of a keyboard materialized a few inches over its surface.

 He looked at it, never having seen that before.  He looked at his fingers resting on the desk.  “Oh, uh, no.  I was, uh, just composing in my head.  Sort of visualizing what it would look like when I actually began to type.  I sort of, rehearse, uh, rough draft all my important memos to the board of director’s this way, a first run through, they get so befuddled with tech talk, you know how they are.”  He realized he was babbling and set his hands in his lap.  “Can I help you with something?”

 She smiled and the whole room brightened.  “Actually, yes.  I really need your help.”

 He dreaded helping people because it meant doing more work, but he couldn’t help how wonderful she looked standing in the perfect light.  “Ah, well, of course, certainly, I just have this, uh, thing, priority one for Gary, you know how he is, everything is ASAP.”

 “That’s just it.  He’s out today and I’m a little desperate.  It will only take ten, fifteen minutes tops.  Five, if you’re pressed for time.  We can do it right here.”  She glanced around to verify their privacy.  “Or my office.  It’s just down the hall.  It’s private too.”  Her eyes lidded imperceptibly.  “Very private.”

 Zach felt the gears in his head try to re-shift as he watched the tiniest blush wash over her as her breathing deepened.  For a moment, it was as if a vampire had just been offered a bloody steak. 

 “Five minutes?”  He glanced at his watch and grimaced.  Five minutes work was still five minutes, but she was pretty, and it might be a favor returned in the near future.  “I think I can spare five minutes.”  He meshed his fingers together to keep them from flittering nervously.  “What is this all about?”

 “I need your male protein.”  She said, breathlessly.

 Although his augmented hearing heard her perfectly, he still said, “What?”

 “You’re an intact male, right?”  She said, slowly sliding around his desk.  “That’s the rumor.  If not, I totally understand and I’m cool with it.”  Her voice twittered, trying to remain calm and not sound desperate.  “You are… intact, right?”

 Zach felt his whole face slacken as it couldn’t decide what expression to have. 

 She leaned and sat on the edge of his desk.  Her fingers softly glided across its polished surface.  “I’m newly transferred, and when I heard about you I figured you’d understand.  See, Gary is out and Steve is stuck on the train and long story short, I need to make quota.”  She peered at him like a cat eyeing a low hanging Christmas ornament.  “You know now how it is.”

 Zach calmly reached for a glass of water.  He picked it up and brought it to his lips.  He tilted it back and discovered it was empty.  He then set it down casually.  “Quota?”

 She nodded.  “For your protein.  You used to work for Chasti-Permalock, right?  You know the score.  And you’re intact.  One hundred percent of the intact guys who allow me their protein enjoy the experience.”  She rose from the desk and stepped closer.

 Zach retreated into his chair as far as he could.  “A hundred percent?  Those are good numbers.”

 “Would you like me to beg for it?”  She slowly, smoothly lowered to her knees.  “I will beg.”

 “Ah, that won’t be necessary.”  He tensed as she reached for him.  “I think I should point out I’ve not had my coffee and the snack cart should be by any second.”

 She caressed his thigh.  “She won’t see anything she hasn’t seen before.”  She smiled.  “Please, let me have your protein?  I’m on my knees.”  Her lips pursed.  “Pretty, please?”  She gently pried his knees apart and eased into the space.  “I can do it in five minutes, or twenty-four hours.  You tell me whenever you want to blow.”

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