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Subject: {ASSM} RP: A Goth's Story (4/8)
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Date: Fri, 18 Mar 2005 17:10:02 -0500
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   Chapter 4 The Presentation ===================

   The antechamber was decorated in the kind of overblown style that I was
coming to expect.  Candlelit, with black walls, the room was like a refugee
from a Hammer Horror movie.  The door by which we had entered was cushioned
with velvet, the double doors, that, I presumed, led to the room in which
the Patrician entertained, were flanked by two grandiose statues of naked
women lithely contorting around severe looking spikes.  I sat on a marble
bench along one of the walls, flanked by Aisling and Hawk.  The Hairdresser
sat twittering to Sepulchre on a bench on the other side.  I, in my new and
humiliating dress, sat contemplating my new situation.  I had been
captured, treated like a piece of meat, an item, and made to wear a corset
and a Goth dress.  I was currently tottering around on a pair of
ridiculously high-heeled boots that, combined with the corset, made me sway
my hips provocatively as I walked.  I had to escape, partly to regain my
freedom, but partly because I was, almost subconsciously, enjoying this. 
That was the truth that I had to escape from; I enjoyed being the centre of
attention, being made to feel special.  It was appealing to depths of me
that I had seldom, if ever, explored before.

   The double doors opened, to reveal a man dressed as a butler.  "The
Patrician will see you now." He said, in a stereotypically stately manner.
I stood, half voluntarily, half propelled by Hawk and Aisling, the two
intimidating guards that had marshalled me through the transformation and
were still ensuring my compliance.  I walked, still unsteady, but trying
for as much grace as I could manage, through the doors and into the
presence of The Patrician.

   The room into which I walked was much larger than I was expecting.  I
realised that the building I was in was, or at least had been, partly a
church.  This cavernous hall had been the nave, along the side, columns
rose high, to a vaulted ceiling.  Candles, flickering slowly, lit the room.
As I walked up presumably what had been the aisle, although the pews had
been removed, my heels clicked loudly on the stone floor.  I felt like a
bride going to the altar.  I wondered how apt that analogy was going to
prove as I approached where the altar had been.  On the dais a throne rose,
designed in similar style to the one at the club, but on a much larger
scale.  The Patrician sat, looking imperious, upon it.  People, who I can
only describe as club bunnies, gathered in small cliques around this end of
the room.  They had been talking, gathered in small cliques, but now were
silent, watching me with interest.

   Lacking instruction I continued walking until I stood before him. 
"Kneel!" Hawk hissed in my ear.  Startled, I complied, ungainly in my
unaccustomed attire.  There was a ripple of amusement, a shifting, from the
courtiers.  Hawk and Aisling, up to this moment escorting me, dropped back
a couple of paces.  The Patrician stood.  I continued to face forward as he
paced around me, inspecting the handiwork of the Hairdresser, who I could
hear nervously murmuring some distance behind me.  "Well then." He said,
after several agonising minutes.  "How we have been changed.  You probably
have many questions.  You may not ask them, but I will answer some." He
reached forward, and lifted my chin.  "You are mine now.  Bought and paid
for.  You exist to do, and to be, what I will.  I have paid for your
transformation, and will continue to pay for it, for it is not over." I
couldn't understand.  What more could he do to me?  I felt the answer
gnawing at me, an expanding darkness within.  "Something permanent." I
whispered inaudibly.  "Your old life is gone.  I would imagine that James
has sold of most of your belongings and thrown away the rest.  You resigned
from your job, pleading family problems.  Your bank account has been
emptied and closed.  Your family, well, they might miss you but not for
long, at least not after the letter that you're going to send them. 
Understand this.  There is no going back.  There is no escape, either. 
Your old life is gone.  I think you'll enjoy your new one, though." He
paused.  "Your old name is gone as well.  I give you a new one.  From now
on you are Sable.  You have no other name, nor any need of one." His hand
caressed my cheek and gently stroked my hair.  "You may call me Master, or
The Patrician in the third person.  You kneel in my presence as does
Sepulchre.  You will do what she tells you until you become more accustomed
to your life." He walked back to the throne and sat.  "Oh, one more thing.
You have seen your last daylight.  Your apartments, in this building, are
blacked out.  You will find no windows in the parts of the building that
you can visit.  You will only be allowed outside during the night." I was
surprised that I was to be allowed outside at all.  I obviously showed
that, for he continued.  "Oh yes, you will be allowed out.  Within certain
limits, of course.  You are now a creature of the night.  My creature of
the night and I am proud of my possessions.  How could I resist showing you
off?" He turned away from me.  "Lucy!" He commanded.  The Hairdresser
clattered forward.  "Yes Bri-sir." She caught herself just in time.  The
Patrician frowned slightly, but let it pass.  "We are pleased, as always,
by your efforts." He commended her.  "She is, however, overweight, which
the corseting and the diet should deal with.  However, I am displeased by
her lack of cleavage and a little with her face.  I don't believe that
hormones alone will correct this, and so I have decided that she will
undergo surgery tomorrow." I stiffened, appalled.  I must, must escape. 
"Can you arrange it?" He finished.  "Yes, sir." She replied.  "I'll contact
Darren.  Breasts and face?" "Yes." He confirmed.  "Take her to a 36D cup,
that should be adequate for her size.  Do her lips, nose and cheekbones on
her face.  Her eyes are really quite acceptable." He reached down, lifted
my chin a bit and peered into my eyes.  "Yes, quite, quite acceptable."
"You may go now." He ordered, dropping my chin.  "Take her to her rooms."
Hawk and Aisling stepped forward as I rose gingerly.  At their prompting I
backed off before turning and leaving the room via the doors we had
entered.

   Hawk led me through the corridors of this, apparently vast, building
that was now my prison.  The corridors were decorated to look like the
passages of a medieval castle.  The floor was tiled and the walls painted
to look like stone.  My footsteps rang hollowly as I hurried along, behind
Hawk but with Aisling prompting me.  I soon lost my sense of direction, and
track of the turnings, as all the halls looked identical.  Hawk suddenly
stopped, causing me to almost fly into his back, I stumbled but managed to
retain my precarious balance.  He opened the door he stood before.  "These
are your rooms." He said.  "Do not leave them before you are collected.  Do
not do anything stupid.  Your position is quite hopeless.  Understood?" I
nodded.  "Ok.  Get some sleep.  You'll find a night-dress in your closet."
He held the door for me, and I walked in to my new apartments.

   As a prison, this one was fairly comfortable, I decided.  I had two
large rooms, a spacious bathroom and a large and mostly empty closet.  The
first large room, which I had entered from the corridor, was a sitting
room, black-walled, with a wooden floor.  The only light came from candles
in large wrought-iron candleholders.  There was a large, comfortable sofa,
black, of course, and a matching armchair.  I had a dark wooden writing
desk and a fairly large bookcase.  Glancing over it, I saw that it was
stocked partly with gothic horror novels and partly with fetish erotic
books and magazines.  The lifestyle that I was to be forced to lead was
becoming obvious.  The second room was my bedroom.  It too was black and
candle-lit, with a wooden floor.  It was dominated, however, by a vast
four-poster bed, with black satin sheets and covers and a black canopy.  It
had a dark wood chest of drawers and a bedside table in one corner was a
vast dressing table with a mirror.  Doors led from this room to the
bathroom, which was spacious, with a large bath, but remarkably normal
otherwise, even including an electric light, and the walk-in closet, which
had space for thousand of garment, but actually contained only two.  On a
hanger on the left-hand side was a long flowing black nightdress, on
another a hooded black satin dressing gown.  The most notable thing about
the rooms was the entire lack of windows.  It seemed The Patrician was not
joking about never seeing daylight again.

   I sat on my sofa, considering my options.  If I stayed here then I was
going to become the permanently feminised slave of The Patrician.  I would
be given breasts, my features changed beyond recognition.  Beyond that,
however, I had no idea what would become of me.  My mind turned over all
sorts of sordid concept.  I resolved to escape, this very night, if it was
night.  I realised I had no idea what time it was, or where I was. 
Nevertheless, a break for freedom must be undertaken soon.  Before the
situation was irretrievable.  Before, a voice at the back of my mind said,
I became too enamoured of this dark and hedonistic world I had been
forcibly inducted into.  When I knelt in front of The Patrician, when he
ran his fingers through my hair, something felt very right.  I had felt
very safe, protected by this powerful man, more powerful than I had ever
been and giving in to him, doing exactly what he said, letting him make all
the decisions, was a very seductive proposition.

   I shook my head, trying to clear these degenerate thoughts from my head.
I must not succumb, or I would lose myself in this new life.  I tried the
door.  To my surprise, it opened.  Hope flickered within me.  I quickly
unlaced my boots, as speed and quiet would be crucial.  I didn't think I
could run that fast wearing the corset, but removing it was not an option.
In stockinged feet, I padded out into the corridor.

   I picked a direction, right, and, hitching up my skirt, crept quickly
along the hall, ears straining for the slightest hint of someone coming.  I
padded along, turning almost at random, until I came to a staircase leading
down.  Reasoning that down was more likely to be closer to out, I tip-toed
down it.  At the bottom was another corridor.  I paused, breathing quick
sharp breaths, my lungs and diaphragm restrained by the corset.  I heard
voices, approaching me.  I looked around desperately.  Underneath the
staircase, was a door, I tried it, it opened.  I crept in and held the door
closed.  "The Patrician does pick his toys well." One voice said.  "I quite
liked the look of that new doll," A second one agreed.  "Sepulchre and
Sable.  The names go together well.  Which will you prefer?" "I don't
know." Replied the first.  "I think I'll wait until Sable is finished
before deciding." "Good idea." The voices faded as they went past.

   I waited for a couple of minutes.  There was no sound.  I left my hiding
place cautiously and continued my escape.  I soon found another down
staircase and descended to another identical floor.  After five minutes on
this floor, I came out onto a balcony.  I crouched, looking through the
railings.  The balcony ran along one side of what apparently was a foyer,
red carpeted and grand.  A master staircase ran from the balcony in a
graceful curve to the floor below.  A large door, with locks and bolts
indicating that it might be exterior was in the middle of the far wall.  I
crawled along the balcony towards the top of the stairs, the exit now in
sight.  Suddenly I heard the voice of the Butler.  "I'll just go and lock
the front door, Mary." He was saying.  "No one will be arriving now." He
walked across the floor, I lay as low as possible, praying he wouldn't
notice me.  He had almost reached the door, probably about to lock it
closed and me in, when a bell rang.  He paused.  It rang again.  "Damn. 
I'd better go and see what he wants." He cursed.  He turned and walked
swiftly back the way he had come.  This was my opportunity, I had to move
quickly before he returned.  All attempts at stealth off, I ran down the
stairs, grateful for the carpet muffling my footsteps.  I ran to the door,
fumbled with the latch.  I looked around, nobody was coming, and opened the
door.  The cold night-time air, for it was night, breezed through the door.
I tasted freedom, I ran through the door, not bothering to close it.  I was
free, I had escaped!

   I got about four paces from the door when I felt it, like a kick in my
neck.  Fire spread from my neck all through my body.  Over and over an
unknown force hit me.  I fell to the floor.  In the distance I heard a
alarm bell ringing and people running.  I was picked up and carried back
inside, half-conscious, half-aware and only half-disappointed.

   I was carried into the building and dumped on a couch.  Slowly, the pain
ebbed and I regained some semblance of normality.  I looked around.  I was
in a small room, with a single door.  The familiar frames of Hawk and
Aisling flanked the door.  Aisling looked disapproving, Hawk frowned, but
there was a glint in his eye and the hint of a smile.  The door opened and
The Patrician walked in a flowing scarlet dressing gown.  "You were
warned." He stormed.  "And you still chose to run.  Now you realise the
futility of your actions.  Your collar, which was locked on you, will shock
you repeatedly if you stray without permission from the places in which you
are allowed.  Alarms will sound and you will be found.  Now, Hawk, Aisling,
prepare her for punishment.  You will soon regret this, even if you don't
already." Without giving me a chance to say a word he spun and stalked out
of the door.  Hawk's grin was now plain.

   "Stand up." Hawk commanded.  I obeyed, dispirited.  It seemed that
escape was impossible.  Hawk unzipped the back of my dress and pulled it
down.  "Step out of it and hold out your hands." He commanded.  I obeyed.
Aisling pushed aside the bracelets I wore and fastened a pair of cuffs,
very similar to the ones I had worn throughout my transformation, around my
wrists.  These cuffs she then fastened together.  Hawk, having put away my
dress somewhere, returned with a long chain, one end of which he locked to
my collar.  There was a knock at the door; Aisling opened it to reveal
Sepulchre, who had a sorrowful expression on.  "They're ready." She said
simply.

   Hawk dragged on my lead and I stumbled after him.  He led me through the

   corridors back to the chamber wherein The Patrician had held his
audience.  The room seemed much as before, but a bar had been lowered from
the ceiling, to hang about seven feet off the ground.  Hawk led me in and
stood me beneath this bar.  The Patrician entered through a side door, as I
had been commanded, I dropped to my knees.

   "Well," he said as he approached, "you learn some lessons at least.  You
are responsible for this.  Your choice." I sneaked a look out of the corner
of my eyes.  The Patrician had changed into a different costume.  He seemed
to be wearing riding boots of some description, and he was tapping
something against the side.  "Understand this.  To every action there is an
equal and opposite reaction.  You have spurned our hospitality.  You have
acted in an ungrateful and uncivilised way.  Therefore, we will be
uncivilised as well.  Stand up." I obeyed, cumbersomely.  "Raise your arms
above your head, touch the bar." I heard the all-too-familiar click of a
padlock as I did so.  I tried to lower my arms and found that my cuffs had
been locked to the bar.  "Raise the bar." The Patrician commanded.  The bar
rose jerkily, pulling me more and more upright, until I was off my heels
and standing on tiptoes.  "Enough." He ordered.  "After each stroke, I will
offer you the whip.  You will kiss it and then thank me.  You will say
'Thank you, Master.  I am a naughty Goth girl who deserves to be punished.'
Every time you do not say it, you will get another five strokes.  The score
starts at twenty." I heard a whistle and then my buttocks exploded; a line
of fire being etched across them.  I yelped.  At the same time, I felt a
stirring in my still-tethered genitalia.  Something about being whipped by
a powerful man appealed to me.  The Patrician proffered the whip in front
of my face.  I wanted to kiss it, to say the words, so that this agony
could be minimised, but I could not.  There was a wall in the way, a last
bastion of pride and reserve.  I turned my head away.  "Twenty-five, then."
He said evenly.  The whistling came again, followed by the crack across my
buttocks.  This time it hurt worse than before, as The Patrician had hit
across the first weal.  The whip was proffered again; again I refused. 
"Thirty." Thirty more strokes, I felt that I could not stand a single one
more, let alone thirty.  I must say those words.  The whistle came again
and I jerked with the blow.  Through the haze of pain I saw the whip in
front of me.  I felt the curtain part slightly, and I kissed the whip.  I
cleared my throat.  "Thank you, Master.  I am a naughty Goth..." I paused.
"Well." The Patrician asked.  "...  girl who deserves to be punished." I
finished in a rush.  "Not bad." The Patrician commented.  "But not quite
good enough.  You don't sound like a girl, and you don't sound like you
mean it.  Nonetheless, we are merciful.  The count remains at thirty." The
whip fell again and once more I jerked as my buttocks flamed.  I kissed the
whip and said, as softly as I was able.  "Thank you, Master.  I am a
naughty Goth girl who deserves to be punished." "Excellent.  Twenty-nine
strokes remain."

   Half an hour later I sat on the sofa in my room, weeping softly to
myself.  I had been led back to my room in tears by Hawk, who had at least
had the discretion not to say anything.  Lacking anything to wear, and
feeling rather vulnerable in my half-undressed state, I had put on the
nightdress and dressing gown.  It felt comforting to have them drawn around
me.  Then, still in a lot of pain from the beating I had taken, and
emotionally broken and distraught, I had sat on the sofa, fortunately soft
beneath my aching rear and wallowed in self-pity.

   There was a knock at the door; I looked up.  "Yes?" I managed to say in
a quivering voice.  The door opened slightly to reveal the head of
Sepulchre.  "Hello, Sable, may I come in?" She asked.  "I guess so." I
said. She came in, sat down beside me and put an arm around my shoulders.
"It hurts, doesn't it." "Yes." I replied.  "It hurt when it happened to me,
too." She said.  "You?" I asked.  "Yes." She responded.  "I made a bid for
freedom on my first night as well.  He wants you to.  It was made easy for
you, and for me.  They feel, and I guess they're right, that they can tell
you that escape is impossible, but you have to demonstrate it.  Besides, he
then gets to beat you." "It was deliberate?" I asked.  "Yes.  Tell me, do
you feel like trying to escape again?" "No!" I responded vehemently.  "Why
not?" She inquired.  "Because I can't cope with the pain, because the
collar would stop me, because I don't want to be whipped again and
because..." I stopped, surprised at what I had been about to say.  "Because
you like feeling special, and you like being the centre of attention." She
finished.  I nodded sorrowfully.  "Don't worry.  I felt, and still feel,
the same.  James is very good at picking his candidates.  You'll find, if
you haven't already, that you'll enjoy this life much more than your last.
I know I do.  There's something appealing about being humiliated and
serving a man like The Patrician." "Why does he do it?" I asked.  "James or
The Patrician?" She questioned.  "James does it because he needs the money
and because The Patrician has threatened to do it to him if he doesn't find
candidates when The Patrician wants them.  The Patrician takes people
because it amuses him, because he likes broken people serving him and there
is no-one more broken than a feminised man." "What about tomorrow?" I
asked. "Are they really going to operate on me?" "I'm afraid so." She
responded.  "He is much more keen this time.  I got to spend a week just
dressed before they operated on me, and it wasn't that severe.  You, I'm
afraid, are going to be changed quite noticeably and quite permanently."
She paused for a moment.  "Now get some sleep, you'll need the rest." "OK."
I said, feeling somewhat better.  "Oh; and Sable." She said, as she rose to
go.  "Give in.  Submit.  You really will enjoy your new life much more. 
Trust me." She bent down and planted a kiss on my cheek.  "Goodnight
Sable." She said.  "Goodnight, Sepulchre" I replied as she walked through
the door.  I took the dressing gown off and hung it back on its hanger. 
Then I crawled into the vast four-poster bed, and closed my eyes.  The
satin of the sheets and the nightdress felt unbelievably soft against my
shaved skin and, despite the constant press of the corset, I felt
comfortable.  Surprisingly, I was asleep in moments.

   -- Sable Darkness @@ Sable_d@yahoo.com Even in the darkness there are
flowers

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