Message-ID: <3511eli$9709011154@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: dantedibby@aol.com (Dantedibby) Subject: Twighlight Zone 4 by Seurat: Art Critic 7/8 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19970901111601.HAA22961@ladder02.news.aol.com> 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." æDon'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 æThe Twighlight Zone'. A quick look around confirmed that it was in the same area as æThe 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. æI 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. 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