Phyllis: Part Thirteen

~ beetleypete

This is the thirteenth part of a fiction serial, in 770 words.

Terence had some thinking to do. If Clive could become a regular, five hundred a week was good enough, and showed he had money to burn. It would be no problem increasing the prices over time, and if he could afford it, which seemed very likely, he might get him to two meetings a week at seven-fifty a time. Much better than treading the boards in a provincial theatre, or a walk-on part as a drag queen in a drama that hardly anybody watched.

Also preferable to travelling around the country in the hope of fleecing some desperate old men. As for Clive’s fetishes, there was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had certainly done worse than spank a man dressed as a girl, and that was only to get a job touring in a bad play. Perhaps he should diversify? Advertise his domination services on the website at a price. If he could get three regulars, that was fifteen hundred a week minimum, without leaving home.

There were dozens of direct messages on his profile page, but he decided to ignore them for a while. He would order in a nice Chinese meal, and wait to see what Clive wanted next week.

Clive messaged him on Wednesday. ‘Okay for Friday still? Mind if it gets a bit dark?’ Terence relied immediately. ‘Friday is fine. Dark as you want to take it’. After he sent that reply, he opened some decent wine and chuckled to himself. The darkest he could imagine was probably that Clive had some kind of cannibal kink. Well he wasn’t about to eat the chubby man, even if he probably tasted like pork.

The Miss Phyllis outfit could get a second outing, Clive was unlikely to care, and that saved buying any other clothes. Terence had checked out some domination websites, and they seemed to infer that you had to dress up in shiny PVC, with laced-up corsets and studded neck chokers. He wasn’t about to waste money on that, so Clive would have to make do with the tweed suit and blouse.

When Clive turned up he was carrying the sports bag, and seemed happy. “Can you come into the bedroom with me please, Phyllis? I need your help this time”. Terence stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched Clive strip naked. Then he reached into the sports bag and produced a number of long leather straps with buckles on them, also digging out a black leather mask, and a leather gag.

“I’m going to put the mask and gag on, then lie down on the bed. I need you to secure my wrists and feet with the straps, making sure I cannot possibly escape, okay?” Terence nodded. “Then just leave me here, helpless. I don’t have any deadline to get back to Derby, so you can choose how long you leave me in here. It’s the not knowing you see, the anticipation”. Terence nodded again. He didn’t have to play Miss Phyllis this afternoon.

Though not as easy as it looked, he finally got Clive secured on his bed. Checking the tightness of the straps to make sure he couldn’t move, he closed the curtains. Before he left the room he looked inside Clive’s jacket, removing his wallet, house keys, and car keys. It was already working well for Clive, judging by the scene on the bed.

There was a couple of hundred in the wallet, as well as three credit cards, a bank debit card, and Clive’s driving licence.

Terence had an idea, and quickly formed a plan. Although he didn’t own a car, he could drive, having passed his test in his late teens. The car keys had an Audi logo on them, and there wouldn’t be many of those parked near his flat. Clive’s driving licence had his address on it, and there was almost certainly a Satnav in the Audi that would guide him there. It was only a thirty-minute drive, so Terence decided that he would go to Derby and find out all about the naked man lying on his bed.

Going out as Phyllis, he took the next right past his flat, the easiest street to park on. Five cars up, there was a shiny new black Audi saloon. He pressed the button on the key fob, and it unlocked. Over half a tank of petrol, more than enough. He pressed a button on the media screen in the car, selected ‘Navigation’, and scrolled down the list until he found ‘Home’.

The voice on the Satnav was that of a very posh mature woman.

No surprise there.

30 thoughts on “Phyllis: Part Thirteen”

  13. (1) Clive has money to burn. If Phyllis ever dies, he’ll have a bunny to mourn.
    (2) Terence should have auditioned for a role in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. It’s sad that he missed he bus.
    (3) While eating his Chinese meal, Terence wondered if Clive would balk at a session of Chinese water torture. Perhaps he could at least talk Clive into a dry run?
    (4) “‘Okay for Friday still? Mind if it gets a bit dark?” This session will eclipse the previous one.
    (5) Clive: “I want you to andress yourself, pretend like I’m the mountain of the cannibal god, and climb all over me.”
    (6) Laced-up corsets and studded neck chokers are so yesterday. Terence should buy some Edwardian Era hats!
    (7) Bad citation: “I need you to secure my wrists and feet with the straps, making sure I cannot possibly escape, okay? Do you know how to handle an ice pick?”
    (8) Message inside a black Audi saloon: Don’t Drink and Drive!

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