Stage Fright

Chapter III

by leopoldine_glitch

Tags: #bimbofication #dubious_consent #exhibitionism #humiliation #sub:female #transgender_characters #chastity #dom:female #f/f

It was fully ten minutes after the appointed time when Stephanie reached the clinic, dragging a reluctant Emily by the arm. She'd tried to keep her friend on track as much as possible and all but promised a repeat of that morning's discipline session if they were forced to reschedule, but even with Emily's reflexive compliance her focus seldom lasted more than a few minutes. Stephanie had failed to anticipate just how much city central could turn into a maze of distractions for a girl whose fixation with clothes and makeup had been artificially reinforced over the preceding weeks to a low key obsession. At least that was how it seemed to Emily - Stephanie recognised a definite pattern of procrastination in Emily's absent-mindedness, and knew it could not be tolerated. After all, her performance last night had only satisfied Anya up to a point, and a part of her was uncomfortably conscious of just how desperately she wanted to please the leading girl. Admitting - against her better instincts - just how much she yearned for her approval; that was one thing. But buried deeper, too, was an awareness of just how little she knew about what Anya might be capable of, and with it, an underlying terror of failure might mean for her and Emily both.

The entrance was off a side street with an intercom system listing the handful of businesses that shared the building. Stephanie called through - stating Emily's name but not her own. Somewhere inside, a receptionist wordlessly buzzed them in, and as it sounded, Stephanie caught a flicker of trepidation steal across her friend's face. Her instincts had been right; the bimbo act was nine tenths denial. The frightened naked girl at her door the previous evening had never fully regained composure.

The clinic was on the second floor in what turned out to be a wide central atrium lit brightly by a skylight several stories above. As they reached the landing they were both sweating in the heat of the enclosed space. The entrance was a heavy wooden door, already slightly ajar. Stopping for a moment, Stephanie halted and turned to her friend. She spent a moment making a show of checking her appearance - adjusting her hair and pulling up a strap of her dress that had fallen - while in her mind she quietly composed herself. Then, pushing the door open, she led Emily inside.

The interior was a stark contrast to the world they left at the door. Windowless, it was richly carpeted and the walls were hung with crimson drapes, and there was a hint of perfume in the air. In all, it possessed the air of a Victorian boudoir. But somewhere - hidden - the air conditioning was on; a subtle reminder of modernity. Perhaps it was the lightlessness, the air of artificial evening that made her sun dress seem suddenly out of place, or maybe the fact that - in any other circumstances the place would be inviting - but for Emily, this lavishness seemed to hold a subtle threat. Mind reeling at this galling mystery, she had no choice but to let herself be wordlessly pulled along towards where the corridor opened up into the main reception area, into the heart of the building.

A woman at an ornately carved reception desk greeted them warmly, but cut Stephanie off before she had a chance to explain their presence;

'We're just finishing up in there dear - why don't you take a seat?'

'We're a little late' Stephanie interjected.

'Don't worry - everything's going slowly this morning; it's the heat. I'm Lena, by the way - I'll be doing the procedure today,' before adding 'Can I get you a coffee?'

With sudden relief, Stephanie put a hand to her clammy brow and said 'yes, that would be lovely' then turning to Emily, 'and a glass of water for my friend'.

Stephanie settled down next to where Emily sat, she picked up a magazine from the table and made to thumb through it as she quietly surveyed the room. There were three of other women in the lobby, all of whom sat, either with their faces buried in books or turned away. They also all seemed far better attired for their surroundings, in tights and skirt suits, Emily wondered just how they all seemed so immaculate given the warmth outside. If their look and demeanour was a contrast to Stephanie then they were a glaring juxtaposition to Emily with her loose, flowing dress and bare legs. So far no one had taken notice of them, or the collar that seemed even more visible against Emily's bared skin. She surmised that Anya had likely made some agreement with the clinic - Lena didn't give much away but her lack of reaction to Emily's mute submission was striking. She could not decide on the other women - they seemed familiar but without a close look at their faces it was hard to tell. Instead, she studied her friend.

Legs clamped firmly together in the deceptively low seat, hands gripping the sweating glass of water, Stephanie surmised that Emily's low thrumming agitation betrayed only a fraction of her mounting nervousness.

Looking at her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on something else. Although her vow of silence to Stephanie was a considerable relief, for which she was genuinely grateful, it would take a lot more to keep herself from falling apart for the next hour. And she would keep her eyes closed even as she heard the door open, heard a figure enter the room and exchange a few polite words with the receptionist.


With a start, she looked up. Stephanie was over at the desk. She'd not heard her get up. The new woman - apparently the clinician - had her mask pulled down beneath her chin and was leaning over examining the screen, a look of confusion on her pretty, tan features. The receptionist's was the same. Stephanie was saying something - her sudden nervousness audible even to Emily;

'But this is the exact time, I had a letter confirming it' she made to rummage in her bag 'it's in my diary. The name should be "Emily - Emily...?"

'Oh, you're Emily?'

There was another voice in the room - a third woman had materialised, perhaps from a hidden door somewhere in the darkened corridor. Stephanie snapped to attention, instantly voicing a panicked insistence that she was very much not and pointing to her friend, still rooted to the spot. But then, as the new woman emerged into the light, Stephanie's words trailed off.

It was Lena who broke the silence; 'Oh, this is Katja, she'll be helping me out with the procedure today.'

Stopping just at the threshold, the woman reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew something: A white envelope. Even across the room Emily could make out its every detail; the apparent richness of the square of white paper, the slight bulge of a more solid object within, and across it in exquisite lettering, a name: Emily. Immediately, all eyes were on her - and she did her best not to squirm.

All eyes, in fact, but for Stephaine's. Even as the voice had come from behind her, causing her sudden outburst, she'd known there was something she recognised. The gait as she walked into the room, the air of understated authority, the distinctive eye makeup visible above her raised surgical mask. It was a good performance, but clearly the disguise was not meant for her. The leading girl was going to be judging her debut - and, summarily failing to cover her shock, Stephanie was already losing points.

It was the clinician, with a warm smile and a few gentle words, led Emily inside. Once out of earshot, Anya turned to Stephanie with a conspiratorial glint in her eye;

'Come now, you didn't think I'd miss the show? After all, you did so well.'

Anya went inside - leaving Stephanie to stand for a moment in stunned silence. It wasn't so much the surprise that so bothered Stephanie, Anya being Anya had a playful penchant for both costume and duplicity. The fact that Emily noticed nothing familiar about this *mysterious* woman come to participate in her embarrassing ordeal with apparent enthusiasm meant that obviously this was further evidence of some expert and heavily tailored conditioning. And this added yet another working to the list of Anya's activities taking place behind Stephanie’s back.

Anya's voice still rung out from the room beyond, and something about the scene suddenly caused her to remember that she, too, was a performer of formidable talent, and that this was her time to enter the stage. With this new resolve rising in her, she followed the other three into the room. After all, she'd done so well - so far, and was really only getting started.


Emily was sitting on the table as Stephanie and Anya, once again masked, came into the room. She was still dressed but had removed her shoes, placing them under the chair; an apparently unprompted gesture of obedience. Her eyes were on Lena who was explaining the procedure and the different steps it entailed as she snapped on a pair of light green surgical gloves and started warming up the machine. As she was going over just how many repeat sessions they would require before the effects were permanent - a number which made Emily visibly wince - she suddenly turned to Emily and said 'you remembered to shave just before coming here today, right?' At that moment, she shot a panicked glance to Stephanie.

Stephanie, in meticulously planning their morning, had managed to overlook this detail, and began a faltering attempt to frame the explanation. But then, for the second time that day, Anya cut her off. Addressing Lena, she explained;

'Oh, our Emily is a special case, but it shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to correct that.'

Then turning to Emily, continued; 'Miss Forester, I think it would be quickest if you just show us rather than have us explain.'

What Stephanie witnessed then was possibly more unexpected than Anya's evident subterfuge. Wordlessly - as ever - Emily hopped down off the table. Then, in a single fluid motion, she grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head. The whole thing had left Stephanie a combination of staggered and impressed. As she stood, naked save for her collar and cage - two icons of submission and both arguably more revealing than her nudity - in front of three fully clothed women, two of whom were (as far as she knew) total strangers, she seemed almost totally unphazed. Stephanie wondered immediately whether this as a deep trance state like the one witnessed at the park, and noted that Anya, in her unique voice, had used Emily's full name; a potential trigger. It was notable, too, that as she folded her dress, it was Anya she looked to first, instinctively handing her the garment, then returning her placid gaze to Lena and Stephanie.

Stephanie looked over to Lena. She was wide eyed, a hand to her breast in a gesture of surprise. But that was ambiguous - it could have been an act, or perhaps she was just used to surprises. Stephanie found it hard to judge. After a long moment, she said 'oh, well yes. Now I understand'. It seemed genuine.

Emily had taken a by now familiar stance, standing straight with her hands behind her back. Meanwhile, Anya - having hung the dress on a coat stand by the door - crossed over to the table at one side of the room where she had placed the envelope marked 'Emily'. When she turned again, the key was held out on a chain before her. As it swung gently from side to side, Stephanie reflexively looked away, knowing its power. She quickly tried to cover her flinch but the raised eyebrow from Anya betrayed a smile and she cursed herself for the display.

Returning to Emily, Anya knelt down and began unlocking the device. As she did so, Emily neither looked down, nor conspicuously away from what was happening, and instead maintained a fixed look straight ahead. But despite this apparent calm, there was no disguising the visible shudder that reverberated through her body as the unlocked cage and ring passed tightly over her sex. Once the device was removed, Anya took a few steps back, joining Stephanie and Lena.

Stephanie's appreciation of the strength of the apparent conditioning worked on Emily only grew - and she wondered exactly when this particular, emotionally and physically nullifying trigger had been encoded into her psyche. Emily's exposed sex - dripping slightly, likely from her earlier haze during their walk - hung limp and inert. Likewise, her aspect was one of genuine calm.

Indeed, to Emily, there was nothing happening - just a friend and two strangers standing before her in a laser clinic. This was protocol, after all - hadn't Stephanie said something to that effect the night before? And indeed, was she not something to be looked upon? She was ravishing today, after all.

Though her memory was hazy, she had, in fact, experienced something like this before. Yesterday afternoon - a time which now seemed aeons ago - she had paced her room, naked just as now, for over an hour wondering what to do, but finding that every time she came close to resolving on what felt like a coherent plan she would become distracted by her reflection in the full length mirror in her room; her slender arms juxaposed by the swell of her hips and thighs, her small, pert breasts. It was what she had felt, too, seeing her face in the mirror in Stephanie's bathroom, and that phrase had occurred to her again; 'something to be looked at'. As this crossed her mind, she looked again at the clothed women present and realised they were doing precisely that. Stephanie most of all, it seemed.

"A pretty sight, isn't she?" Stephanie realised Anya had spoken, and that the question had been directed at her. She was, Stephanie nodded. And in that moment, had snapped out of a reverie she had not expected to fall into. Yes, her friend was attractive - beautiful even - but she'd had plenty of time those last twelve hours to see as much of her as she’d desired. What was happening now was different. The exquisite vulnerability of seeing her friend displayed before them stirred in her that she didn't quite understand, but certainly didn't like, all told.

Coming back to herself, she swiftly concurred; "Yes, quite, although better adorned, I think."

"True, and so obedient. Aren't you Miss Forester?"

Emily gave a short nod, though how much she knew she was agreeing on was unclear. Anya turned, catching Stephanie's eye, and shot her a wicked grin that even the mask couldn't disguise. Then, turning back to Emily, pulling down her mask just an inch to expose her mouth, uttered the phrase:

"Good girl"

Stephanie had spoken those exact words herself multiple times, but she knew from the sudden shift in Anya's tone this was another trigger, one whose use Anya had reserved for herself. Looking over to Emily, she noted with some alarm, that its impact was both instantaneous and potent.

Despite her hypnotically-induced silence, the sound that emitted from her mouth was half way between a moan and a whimper. A shudder ran through her body that caused her to almost double over, but discipline forbade. Her hands stayed at her sides but her hands were now clenched fists, and a heavy blush spread over her cheeks and down her breast, and even in the cool of the clinic she had begun to sweat. Her cock, that had previously hung limp, was now fully engorged and pulsed in rhythm with her heavy heartbeat.

Stephanie had suspected Anya's sudden appearance had not been the last surprise in store for her that morning, but this almost vulgar display of power far exceeded her expectations. She looked over to Lena. While understandably surprised at what she'd just witnessed, her resolve indicated that she had at the very least been tipped off about what was going to happen. Another galling realisation, Stephanie mused, was she really the last to know what was happening? A quick look at Emily reminded her otherwise, although the relief was minimal.

All three looked on Emily as she stood, rigid and trembling before them. Her head, evidently spinning in a maelstrom of arousal, would occasionally drift to one side before snapping upright with a jerk.

"Well this complicates things" Lena interjected, clearly warming to the role, "I can't very well prep her like this. And given the circumstances I'm guessing we can't very well let her resolve this herself?"

The question was directed at Anya but Stephanie, decisively, interjected; "No, I'm afraid that's quite out of the question."

"Well I think I have a solution." Anya was crossing to the other side of the room, away from where Emily was facing, and opening a cupboard "we sometimes have lapses in discipline with girls in Emily’s position, though this typically helps bring them into line." Closing the cupboard door she turned to Stephanie and Lena, something now in her hand. "And it looks like she's already had a taste of something like it this morning."

To her credit, Emily had not closed her eyes, but had looked fixedly at the ceiling, unable to meet the eyes of the other women. But at the reference to her still reddened buttocks, nervous curiosity overcame shame and she turned her head to look around. Anya stood now at the other end of the cushioned table, flexing a thick black cane between her hands.

Emily, sex still throbbing, let out a shuddering breath that ended in a moan.


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