Call Girl 2

Chapter 2

Anne stumbled through the front door of her apartment, her legs weak after her ordeal. Her panties felt like sandpaper against her tender nether regions. All she could think about was a hot bath and sleep. She awakened the following morning to the sound of her alarm clock. She rolled over in bed, shut the clock off, and mentally surveyed her situation. She had made it home safely after her first – and in her mind, the last – day of that horrible job. Were it not for the soreness in her lady parts, she would have thought it all a bad dream. She firmly decided never to return.

A couple of days later, Anne received a call from Ms. Johnson. “I have a paycheck for you. You can stop by any time to pick it up.”

“Can't you just mail it to me?” Anne had no desire to set foot in the place.

“I'm afraid not,” Ms. Johnson said. “You have to sign for it. Company policy.”

“Oh, all right. I'll be in this afternoon.” As much as she hated the thought of going to that atrocious place, a thousand bucks was just too much to walk away from.

Anne sat in Ms. Johnson's office, sipping tea. Despite her intent to stay only long enough to pick up her check, Anne succumbed to Ms. Johnson's power of persuasion. She had persuaded Anne to wear rubber; talking her into tea was no problem. The pair chatted cordially, talking about everything and nothing. Despite her misgivings, Anne began to feel more and more relaxed. Although not unpleasant, the tea had an unusual flavor.

“What kind of tea is this?” Anne asked.

“It's a custom blend,” Ms. Johnson said. “Do you like it?”

Anne began to feel a little woozy. Shortly, the sensation overwhelmed her until Anne couldn't speak.

“My dear, are you all right?” Ms. Johnson asked. Anne couldn't answer. Then everything went black.

Anne awakened slowly. At first, it was all a blur. As her mind cleared, she found herself lying on her back. As she became more lucid, Anne discovered she was wearing her uniform. Somehow, someone had managed to stuff her limp, unconscious body into her latex catsuit. Anne wondered what other liberties had been taken. Anne attempted to brush a stray hair from her face, when she discovered she couldn't move. She had been strapped into that hated chair.

Anne heard Ms. Johnson's voice in her headphones. “I'm sorry to take advantage of you in this manner, but you left me no choice. As you know, we cater to a special clientele. They depend on our discretion. Since we couldn't count on your loyalty, we had to take more drastic measures.” Ms. Johnson pressed a button on the control panel behind the head of the chair. The column between Anne's legs moved into position. The probe pressed into Anne's womanhood.

“OW!” Anne cried out. She was still sore from her first session. “Ow ow ow ow ow!” Slowly the probe moved into place.

“You know the routine,” Ms. Johnson said. “If you're thinking of asking for help from a caller, remember this is all fantasy. They'll think it's all part of the game. I'm afraid the only way out of your predicament is to put in your time. I'll be back in four hours.”

Anne heard a phone ringing in her ears. Anne answered, reading from the script. She was both frightened and furious over her plight, but could think of no way out other than straight ahead. The vibrator between her legs sprung to life, buzzing merrily. Despite the pain, Anne slowly became aroused. After a few minutes, a powerful orgasm ripped through her, followed by another, then another. Anne nearly fainted, but managed to keep herself focused. She had no intention of submitting to this scheme. Once her shift was up, she was leaving. They could keep their money. They couldn't keep her tied up forever.

Slowly, the hours passed. Anne endured the same events as last time, the same conversations, the same responses from the callers. Just when she thought she had heard it all, she received a call from a woman. Anne began with the script, only to be interrupted.

“Do you know what I would do to you if I ever got my hands on you? I'd hogtie you so tight you'd beg for mercy. Then I'd make you kiss me all under until you gratified my every need”. Anne had never kissed a woman on the mouth, much less anywhere else, and she was appalled at the thought – at least at first. The woman talked nonstop, showing little interest in what Anne had to say. “How would you like to be my little slave for the rest of your life? I could arrange that, you know.”

The stimulation between Anne's legs, combined with the topic of conversation had an odd effect on Anne. She had never felt anything toward women before, but as the woman talked, Anne found herself becoming more and more aroused. Soon, Anne couldn't tell if it was the probe or the conversation that stimulated her, but she was unquestionably becoming more than turned on. Anne wasn't the only one. The caller's breathing became heavy. Soon, both women were crying out in ecstasy.

“I'll see you soon, dear,” the caller said, then hung up. It sounded more like a threat than anything else. Anne was too engrossed in her own orgasm to think about it.

Despite the pleasure she was experiencing, her anger kept her concentrated on her resolution to escape once and for all. Several calls later, the end of her shift arrived. During the last call, the intensity of the vibrator increased until, despite her best efforts, Anne saw stars until everything went dark.

When Anne came to, the straps holding her to the chair had been removed. When she attempted to stand, Anne discovered the probe was still inside her. Ms. Johnson stood beside the head of the chair.

“Here, let me help you, dear.” Ms. Johnson said. She helped Anne stand. Oddly, the probe came with her. Anne looked down. She was wearing what looked like a steel thong. When she tried to pull herself out of the iron underwear, it wouldn't budge.

“Don't bother. You're locked in. That probe is a portable version of the one in the chair. It and that belt stay in place until you're unlocked. I'm not letting you out until I need you again. Peak hours are in the evening. Shall we say tomorrow, around seven?”

“Now wait a minute!” Anne said. “Enough is enough. Let me out of here.” Anne squirmed inside her portable prison. “Seriously.” Fear rose in Anne as she thought of living her daily routine while locked up. Even the simplest tasks now seemed impossible. “Come on, please let me out.” Anne's attempts at freedom became more desperate. The chastity belt held fast. After several minutes of futile attempts, Anne gave up. She'd been had again, and there was nothing to be done about it.

“Relax, my dear. You need to be careful; you don't want to harm yourself. There's no escape without causing serious damage to you. If you damage the lock, you'll spend the rest of your life in that belt, so don't try picking the lock. Also, in case you hadn't noticed, your chastity belt holds you inside your uniform. Take care not to damage it. I assure you, you wouldn't enjoy the consequences.”

Ms. Johnson led Anne back to the changing room. Anne followed, suppressing the need to cry, angry with her plight. Once again, she was trapped with no apparent way out. Anne pulled on her sweater, skirt, and boots, which covered most of her uniform. She didn't bother with her underwear. There didn't seem to be much point.

Anne decided to take a cab home. Considering her iron panties and rubber uniform, she was not inclined to endure a long bus ride. With the extra layer of insulation provided by her street clothes, Anne began to perspire. She was hot, tired, and out of sorts. Her raw and tender nether regions were being invaded by that insolent probe. In short, she was miserable. Out front, she had no trouble hailing a cab. Anne climbed in. Just as the cab pulled away from the curb, the probe inside her began vibrating.

Back in her office, Ms. Johnson smiled, placed a small remote control device in her desk and locked the drawer.

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02.01.14