As Mistress Samantha had said, every dominant woman in the room was accompanied by a slave, every slave dressed in a variant of rampant femininity, while the mistresses were generally clad in leather. Not every slave was male, either--about half of them were real women who reveled in their submission as much as the males did. Many of the cross-dressed males were difficult to tell apart from their female submissive counterparts. Obviously, a great number of these lesbian dominants were experts at transforming men into acceptable, even attractive women.
My mistress noticed me eyeing the panoply, as I paid special attention to the other forced-dressed men. "Don't worry, Carol, honey," she cooed. "Not a one of them can hold a candle to you. You're sure to win the competition!"
Competition? I was going to be a participant in some kind of contest?
Ignoring my obvious consternation, Mistress Samantha pulled lightly on my lead and took me to an empty table on the far side of the room. She sat on the one chair at the table, while directing me to kneel beside her. Though this was not the most comfortable of positions, I was grateful to get the weight off my feet, thus giving them some relief from the strain of the "ballet shoes" the mistress had forced on me.
Over the course of the next hour, we were visited at our table by a wide range of the dominants present, always with their slaves in tow. A typical encounter was the one with Madame Tanya, a striking redhead dressed in a flowing satin ballgown with a full, floor-length skirt. Her slave was a beautiful brunette girl named Robin, dressed in a bondage version of her comic-book counterpart's outfit. The black mask was more a blindfold, since it had no eyeholes. The red jacket was really a corset, laced to a nearly unbearable tightness--perhaps some 16 inches. The green gauntlets were merged into a single glove, forcing her arms behind her back, partially hidden by the short yellow satin cape. The final touches were the seven-inch heels on her short boots and the eight-inch chain that bound her ankles, forcing her into a mincing step. her.
"Wow, Sam! She's really attractive," the redheaded dominant told Mistress Samantha. "She's sure to win the competition among the female slaves."
My mistress smiled and said, "Come close, Tanya. Let me let you in on a little secret...." Madame Tanya leaned toward Mistress Samantha and exchanged whispers, ending with, "No kidding--really? Well, Carol here's going to be a big surprise to the others!"
With that, Madame Tanya took her sightless slave by the hand and led her away. I turned to Mistress Samantha from my kneeling position, my eyes pleading for information on the rest of the night's events. Once again, she merely smiled enigmatically, saying, "You'll see, Carol, dear. It's almost time for the competition to begin."
Almost immediately, a bell rang and the lights came up on a small stage at one end of the club. A tall, slender dominant dressed in red leather strode onto the stage and addressed the crowd.
"Ladies and slaves--our submissive beauty pageant is about to begin! As usual, it will be split into two: real females and crossdressers. Contestants will be judged on beauty, poise, costume, bondage, submissiveness and creativity by their dominants. Mistresses--bring your slaves forward: females to the left, TVs to the right."
With that, the crowd broke up into about equal halves, with Mistress Samantha and I heading toward the right side of the stage. We were stopped halfway by the mistress of ceremonies. "Mistress Samantha," she called, "real girls go to the left!" And she pointed at me.
My mistress gestured for the MC to come closer and whispered to her. "Well, I can't say I believe it--but all right," the red-clad dominant replied. We took our place with the other submissive TVs and their lesbian mistresses.
First on to the stage were the "real" girls. About 25 in number, they were judged by a trio of dominants who walked down the line, occasionally tapping a submissive on the shoulder, indicating she was one of the five finalists. In time, the non-finalists left the stage, leaving only the quintet competing.
They were quite a group: first was a petite blonde, completely wrapped in "bandage-bondage." Only her breasts, ass, pussy and feet were unbound. She stood, perched on six-inch heels, as each of the judges fondled her naked privates.
Next was a rubber-clad beauty, her hands sealed to her hips, elbows akimbo, her head encased in latex as well, save for her face.
Third was Madame Tanya's Robin. Her outfit was clearly an audience favorite and she received a great deal of attention from the judges as well.
Next to Robin was a girl completely naked, except for eight-inch heels and the ropes which bound her into a compact bundle, knees tight below her chin.
The final female finalist was a "bondage bride," clad completely in the stark white satin and lace of a traditional wedding gown, but with several unique differences: Her mouth was stuffed with a dildo gag, the skirt of her gown was cut in an inverted vee, allowing the audience a full view of her shapely, white-stockinged legs, all the way to her naked, shaven pussy. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back, preventing her from hiding her sex from view.
After testing each of the finalists for obedience and submissiveness, the judges retired to make their decision. A few minutes later, they announced the popular choice of Robin as first-prize winner, with the bondage bride as a close runner-up.
Now we submissive TVs were paraded onto the stage. Again, the three judges looked us over, tapping the finalists. When they reached me, the three stood, studying my appearance carefully. The MC whispered to the lead judge, who nodded. Behind them, the audience hooted, some crying that I couldn't possibly be a crossdresser, that I must be an impostor. The MC quieted the crowd. Then the lead judge tapped me on the shoulder--I was a finalist!
The other finalists included Evelyn's slave, Christy--still mostly naked, wearing nothing but her garterbelt, fishnet stockings and t-strap heels, locked onto her feet.
The third finalist was costumed as a '50s-style chanteuse, in a form-hugging sequined gown. Her bust was padded to explosive proportions, her makeup theatrical in the extreme. But this songbird would never sing--for her mouth was plugged with a rubber ballgag, its red color matching that of her crimson lips. Her elbows were tightly bound to her waist by satin ribbons, allowing her satin-gloved hands only the slightest of movements.
Now it was my turn. Again, there was much whispered consultation among the three judges as they examined me. Obviously, like the audience, they had difficulty believing my image of luscious bound femininity was a false one. They turned to Mistress Samantha. "You said she would demonstrate her bona fides," the lead judge said.
Mistress Samantha responded by unlocking my bound arms and delivering an order. "Remove your panties, Carol--" I hesitated--"now!" That did it! The control spell took over, as my hands fairly ripped the satin panties off my loins and my cock popped up in all its rampant glory.
The audience gasped, then applauded with delight. I was obviously the popular winner now--and the judges confirmed the crowd's selection, naming me the first place winner in the TV division.
THE END
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