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From: dantedibby@aol.com (Dantedibby)
Subject: Twighlight Zone 4 by Seurat: Art Critic 7/8
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I hope Celeste likes this. I know she read the statement in 1a. 10/10/10
material? Probably not. But you never know.
Wednesday, June 26th
I found the package when I got home from work that day. It was tall
and thin, like a box
for a big stand up mirror. I lugged it inside and upstairs. It wasn't so
much heavy as it
was unwieldy. I slid it into the back of the hall closet.
We had salads for dinner that night. my wife told me that she instead
of choir tonight she
was supposed to be having dinner with some prospective clients. I felt a
twinge of jealousy at the
thought of her going out with somebody else; she was my wife. She
reassured me that the client
was a female and that I had nothing to worry about.
When she came downstairs after changing I felt my heart leap. Her
aerobics class and the
diet had really trimmed down her body; it was back in the shape I knew
when I met her. She
looked stunning in her business suit and heels, and her make-up done just
right. Again I felt
jealous.
"Honey, you know this is just business. I do have to entertain
prospective clients
occasionally. Now, I have to go. Don't forget to pick up the tickets.
And don't wait up too late;
I don't know how long this will take." ÊDon't forget to pick up the
tickets' should have been her
mantra. I was at the point where I picked them up automatically on the
way home from work.
She looked so good that when she left I almost forgot it was Wednesday.
I went upstairs and pulled the box out of the closet. Inside was a
black body suit much
like the one I wore when I was in Tara's artwork, only without the hood.
Also contained in the
box was a tuxedo, black socks, new shoes, a pair of black leather driving
gloves, a black leather
mask for around my eyes, a tube of gel, and the remote. I quickly got
into the suit, my erection
standing at attention, and then dressed in bodysuit and the tuxedo. There
was enough flexibility in
the cock collar that after I was locked into the suit, I wasn't tenting
the tuxedo pants. Well, not
much. The mask, adhering to my face my Tara's magic chemicals, would give
me some
anonimity. I searched the box for a note, and found it inside the tux
jacket. It simply gave a time
a few hours from now. Guess my wife wasn't the only one going out tonight.
I went downstairs and watched television until the appointed time
when I heard a car pull
into the driveway. Before I could turn off the t.v. the doorbell rang.
Waiting outside was a
female chauffeur, dressed in skin tight black leather dress, spike heels,
driver's hat, and mirrored
sunglasses. She led the way to the car and, without speaking a word, let
me into the back of the
stretch limo parked in the driveway.
The interior or the car was done completely in zebra stripped
upholstery, and I was the
only occupant. As the car pulled down the road, I poured myself a drink
from the bar.
When the car stopped a little while later and the door opened, I
found myself at a store
named ÊThe Twighlight Zone'. A quick look around confirmed that it was in
the same area as
ÊThe Twighlight Cafe'. As I walked up to the doors, my limo pulled away.
Inside, the store lived up to it's name. Manequins, both male and
female, were dressed in
everything from lace to latex to leather. Elegant ballroom dresses to one
side were
counterbalanced by bondage corsets on the other. It was a place for
people with lots of money
and lots of different dressing ideas. I strolled down the main aisle,
heading for a small group of
people.
"It was incredible. He was hung like a horse, and didn't do anything
I didn't want him to.
He just...Oh, excuse me, sir. You're here for the fashion show? Please
follow me." An attractive
women in a silver evening dress and heels seperated herself from the group
took my arm and led
me deeper into the store.
The place was huge! At least as big as any department store at the
mall. It wasn't just
lingerie and bondage clothes they sold, either. Designer jeans, sneakers
to high heel boots, erotic
toys, household knick-knacks, even furniture! I didn't see any prices on
anything, and figured
that people that could afford things like this didn't worry about prices.
I was taken into a large ballroom area that was at the very back of
the store. A long
model's runway ran down the middle from a curtained area at the back. At
either side and at the
end were placed comfortable chairs; many were filled with women and men
dressed similarly to
me. My escort left me, and I searched the crowd for my date.
I recognized her immediately. She sat at the end of the runway, just
off to the side. Her
evening dress was made of glittering scales that at first looked dark
silver, but on closer
examination actually formed a stripped pattern, much like a zebra. She
wore matching heels,
gloves, a choker, and a mask. I walked over to her.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Why Alan, must you ask?" I sat.
"I'm afraid you have the better of me."
"Tonight you may call me Jackie."
"Well, Jackie, would you mind telling me what is on tonights venue?"
"It's a fashion show for the new catalog. I'm not quite as creative
as the others; I thought
you might like to have a night off, and do something different."
"Every week it's been something different. What kind of fashion show?"
"The Zone is doing some new pieces this year, and this is the
pre-release party."
I looked around, thinking that I recognized some of the big art
buyers, but I couldn't be
sure. Everybody wore masks. "Are all these people buyers?"
"Buying, selling, making contacts. It's all business."
A waitress took our orders for drinks. "Jackie? You seem a little
more open then the
others. Can I ask you a few questions?"
She faced me. "Sorry. Any questions you have will be answered at a
later date. Sit
back;enjoy the show."
Music started, and the first of the models came down the runway. She
was dressed in a
red satin waist cincher trimmed in white fur. I leaned over to Jackie.
"Doesn't seem too special."
She whispered back, "Realize that most of these outfits are made of
fabric which is made
to heighten the sense of touch; that cincher is probably groping the
model. Here, look in this."
She handed me a catalog, open to a picture of a different model in the
same cincher. The
description told of a heat control device, self contained batteries, and
some other accessories.
These were clothes to torture and tease, not just exhibit.
The next model was a male in a chastity harness, crawling on his
hands and knees. The
description told of a buut plug and a device called Khali's teeth which
kept down the erections.
When he reached the end of the runway, I noticed he was wearing earrings
like those put on me
during one of my nights out. On closer inspection, I noticed his eyes had
a glazed over look.
"Hey!" I turned to Jackie, "they drugged him!"
"Some of the models are drugged, yes. Some are real models, and they
make a good
dollar. But most of the people that you see up there tonight are being
trained, and some of that
training requires the use of drugs. Usually, those that have entered the
program unwillingly are
under the influence; it makes the training easier." I thought of my
experience last week, nodded
my understanding. "There are others that have no idea what is going on,
though. Occasionally,
we pick out people we've met and have them model. They don't remember
anything the next day
except that they had fun the night before. You can tell them because they
were hoods or masks to
protect their identity. We may rework some people's lives, but we're not
out to wreck innocent's
futures. Here comes one now."
The figure on the path was dressed in a business suit. Black leather
gloves, ballet boots,
and a full hood drew my eyes awy from it, tough. When she reached the
midpoint of the runway,
she stripped off the skirt, jacket, and blouse, revealing a black leather
bustier and matching shorts.
A black latex phallus protruded from her front, springing up when she
dropped the skirt.. Fishnet
stockings covered her legs down to where they met the top of her ballet
boots. She faltered as
she walked down the runway, stopping every few steps. Something in my
mind clicked; a feeling
of deja vu swept over me but I didn't know why. I flipped through the
book until I found the
item. According to it's desription, the model by now would be
hyper-stimulated from the butt
plug, dildo, and clit massager. Hidden clamps were squeezing and drawing
on her nipples. No
wonder she was having a hard time walking.
"This is one of my creations. Do you like?"
"She's very attactive, and it looks like she's enjoying it. I don't
think it's for me, though."
"You could get one for your wife."
"First, I don't think I could afford it. Second, my wife isn't into
that kind of thing."
"Consider it a gift. And I'm sure she's into that kind of thing."
Jackie giggled. "That's
her in it right now!"
My eyes went wide - the body shape was right, the business suit! It
was the one she left
the house in! I thought I could see my wife's glazed over eyes inside the
hood. They'd drugged
her!
"You bitch! What did you do to her?" Heads turned around us. I
felt myself being picked up
and carried out of the room. Jackie followed behind, as my wife completed
her runway walk.
The two guards set me down outside the room, but neither let go.
"This wasn't part of the deal. She's not part of this. Let her go!"
"On the contrary, Alan, she is part of this. This is your punishment
for the time you didn't
follow Tara's command. Remember?" My mind flipped back to when I had cum
without Tara's
permission.
"No. This is too much. I want it stopped, now!"
"It's too late, Alan. She's already being fitted for her second
outfit. I hear it's a real
hum-zinger. Or should I say, a cum-drinker?"
She pulled out a remote and tapped a button. Pain wrapped by balls,
and I dropped to the
floor. She motioned to the guards, who cuffed me and pulled a hood over
my head. I knew
better than to resist as they forced the gag into my mouth and buckled the
hood tight. A chain
hobble kept me from running or kicking. As a final gesture, Jackie
unzipped my pants and pulled
out my erect cock. She attached a leash around the base, and then
proceded to drag me back into
the ballroom.
The figure of my wife sat in a desk chair at the end of the runway,
dressed again in her
business suit, the hood being the only element out of place time. Six
female figures, nude
except for strap-on dildo harnessess, filed down either side of the aisle
and stood behind her. The
first walked around and pointed to the floor. My wife got up, turned, and
knelt before her as she
sat in the chair. I flipped open the catalog with my cuffed hands.
Cocksucker trainer, for the
slave that needs a little encouragement. Bulbs in the dildo's ball sack
contain up to four ounces of
any liquid; just squeeze them to simulate ejaculation. Double-sided dildo
trainer, filled with
sensi-gel, designed to stimulate nerve endings on both ends.
I looked up to see the figure sucking away at the phallus. Another
of the women had
mounted her from behind. I could feel tears well up in my eyes.
"Tara's trading her orgasms for your's. It was supposed to be you up
there, but you were
to be punished." I could feel the anger rise even higher in me.
"Besides, if she wasn't here, she
couldn't do this." Jackie made a motion with her hand, and the figures
seperated on the stage.
The one I thought was my wife came down the stairs,followed by the six
other models, and
started rubbing men's crotches. She would rub each for a minute or so,
and then shake her head
and move on. A few she pulled to their feet, then pulled down their
pants, exposing huge
erections. Each one of these received a blow job from one of the other
women from the stage.
Finally she got to me. She pulled me to my feet, then knelt in front of
me. Her mouth encased
my entire cock while her hands fondled my balls. She kept sucking and
licking, licking and
sucking, and I felt my orgasm rise.
"Tara didn't say you could come." I heard the BEEP from Jackie's
remote, and my prick
went numb. Try as she might, the figure in front of me couldn't bring me
to orgasm. After five
minutes of trying, Jackie motioned her back onto the stage. She walked
away, followed by the six
other models. Applause followed them, the loudest clappers being those
that had been on the
receiving end of the blowjobs. Jackie made another motion, this time to
somebody by the
entrance.
"Take him home." My driver came in and lead me away to the limo.
After she got me
seated, Jackie stuck her head in. "Drive him around until midnight, then
make him strip and take
him home." I mentally vowed revenge. It was as if she could read my
mind. "Try any funny
business, and I'll shock that dick right off your body. And I won't say
what we'll do to your wife.
She still has a few more outfits to try on."
At midnight the driver stripped me of the tux and released me from
the suit, using a
remote to remind me of the device around the base of my genitals which
would cause me pain. I
was left naked in my own front yard. Nearly two hours of constant
stimulation and no release had
left me weak. I had other things on my mind, though. I fumbled with the
front door lock, using a
spare we leave hidden outside. Once inside I ran upstairs, to find my
wife curled up in bed, sound
asleep. It was if nothing had happened.
Friday, June 28th
Talks with my wife led me to believe she may not have been at the
Twighlight Zone; she
had spent the evening with a woman named Tara Worthington, yes, but they
had been at her
company's club most of the evening discussing business. Ms. Worthington
wanted someplace
private where they wouldn't be disturbed. It had been odd, because while
they were there she had
seen another women in a suit almost exactly like hers! The talk had gone
well; Tara got a phone
call late in the evening that made her happy; one of her partners had
concluded some unfinished
business of hers. She was so happy that she signed a big contract with my
wife right there.
It left me wondering about the whole thing. Had they really done
things to my wife, or
was it just a double designed to torture me? I could find witnessess,
okay, but what if the whole
thing was a conspiracy? I didn't know if I would ever know the truth.
Tara's punishment seemed
extreme. I was a nervous wreck over the prospect of what might have
happened to my wife.
Saturday, June 29th
I found the box while I was doing yard work. Inside was the black
leather outfit; boots,
shorts, bustier, gloves, stockings, even the hood. It was accompanied by
a tape entitled, 'Model
Cum-Suckers' and a copy of the catalog. I ran inside and put the tape in
the VCR, hit play and
fast forward. Scenes flashed by, me in the limo, the store, the runway.
The figure on the runway
I thought was my wife in leather, the fellatio scene. More followed; she
wore different costumes
and performed different sex acts as a man and a woman, with a man or men,
or women. She was
in about every third display. At the end they took off her hood, only to
cover her face with a
black dot and a giant white question mark. The tape clicked off.
"What's this?" My wife stood behind me, holding the dildo pants at
arms length.
"I found it outside while I was doing some work."
"Look Alan, I know our sex life hasn't been great lately and could
use a little spicing up,
but this is a little extreme. Do something with it. ÊI found it
outside'. Yeah, right." She
dropped
it back into the box and walked into the kitchen.
I did do something with it. It got locked in my drawer with all my
other items. Maybe
one day she would wear it for me. Someday.
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