A Series of Letters to a Fashion House

[billykins]

20.
Jeanette’s diary, 29 March 2022 continued…

So those weird devices…what could they be for?  Even Dolores’s next move didn’t shed any more light.  She made Donna Mae bend each arm in turn.  She got Pat to hold the device underneath his arm, with his elbow in the crook, then took out a reel of surgical tape, and taped upper and forearm to it, so he could no longer straighten it.  Then, with a little difficulty, she got him into his dress, threading each of his bent arms through the sleeve.
Any warmer?  No, neither was I.  And then things only got weirder than ever.  First she produced from her box, a pair of short white nylon gloves with frilled, elasticated cuffs, which she pushed over his fingers and hand until she was satisfied they fitted snugly.  Next came two narrow pink straps, like those around his ankles, with buckles and D-rings.  These she fed through four little loops on the cuff of each glove, and buckled them up firmly.  Next, she produced a length of black cloth, and proceeded to blindfold him. 
“Just stay still, Donna Mae, there’s a good boy.”
She went to the door, opened it, and I saw her beckon to someone outside.
In came a middle-aged lady with greying hair tied up in a bun.  A fattish woman with small eyes and spectacles, carrying a lidded basket.  She seemed to know exactly what was required of her.  Drawing up a chair, she placed her basket on the ground, opened it, and took out a needle already threaded with white thread.  She started on Donna Mae’s left hand.  She pinched the tips of first finger and thumb to loosen the material, and then setting to work sewing them together!
Pat and I must have been frowning with puzzlement, because I saw Dolores dart an amused glance at us.  Anyway, the seamstress carried on her work with unsmiling professionalism, and soon both hands had received the same treatment.  It was her next move that finally offered the first clue.  She selected a point on the hem of Donna Mae’s skirt and began to sew the hem to the stitches between his left finger and thumb!  Then she did the same to the right.  Then she looked at Dolores for approval.
“Thank you, Vicky.  That’s perfect.  It can’t come loose, can it?”
“No ma’am.  That there’s nylon thread, that is.  Can’t break that.”
“Excellent!  You may go, then.”

After the door had closed behind the taciturn Vicky, Dolores retreated across the room until she was leaning with her rear against the counter.
“Donna Mae?  Stand up please.”
He hesitated.
“Stand up!  Now, please.”
He rose gingerly, and as he did so the front of his skirt inevitably lifted, revealing his puffy, shiny panties and the little quivering shaft with its silver bell.  He was trembling slightly, making it tinkle prettily.  It looked exactly as though he was deliberately lifting his skirt to show off everything underneath!
“Genius…” murmured Pat.
“Miss…?”
“Shh.  Not a word, please.  We’re not finished yet.”  Despite his blindfold, he seemed to understand what was being done to him.  I expect he could feel the hem lifting, for he bent forward in a vain attempt to conceal himself.  But Dolores was having none of that.  She touched her phone and he sprang back upright.
“Behave yourself, Donna Mae.  Remember I’ll be watching you, and any naughtiness…”  She touched the phone again, making him flinch.
“No, miss…please.  I’ll be good.  I promise!”
“I know you will, darling.”  She stroked his cheek.  “Now…”
Out of the magic box came a short lightweight spreader bar, about a foot long, pink plastic with steel ends and clips, which she attached to the D-rings on his cuff straps.
“That’ll keep your hands in the right place.  Now your ribbons…”
There was a big pink bow for his hair, secured firmly in his ringlets with a silver hairclip, tilted just to one side in a rather roguish, jaunty fashion.  But there was also one more: Dolores pulled out a length of broad ribbon, made of stiff pink satin, either heavy or starched, I couldn’t work out which.  Kneeling down, she wound it around the very base of the device, behind his balls, and knotted it.  Then she tied it in an exquisitely crisp, large bow.
“Walk up and down, please, Donna Mae.  Here, you can take that off now.”
She removed his blindfold.  He stood there blinking and blushing.
“Walk, please.  Now then.  Quick little steps.”
He trotted around the room, the stiff ribbon bouncing and quivering in time with the proud little plastic sheath, all to the accompaniment of his little tinkling bell.
“What do you think, ladies?”
“Dolores…” murmured Pat, “really…it’s quite…unbelievably...  I mean, the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen.  But surely you’re not planning to…”
“To send him out on the catwalk?  You bet.  We’re going to make this a show to remember for all those bored lady fashionistas.  Of course, they’ll pretend to be shocked, but they’ll be booking their tickets for our next one before this one’s even over.”
“So what about the girls?  They’ve been our gimmick up to now.  Everyone loves their little intros.  That Maisie Fawcett of Fawcett Fabrics told me they’re the highlight of the whole show for her.”
“The girls?  You really think I’d let them be left out?  No, they’re an integral part of my plan.  Wait and see.”   
Pat looked at Donna Mae, standing there wide-eyed, shaking his head slowly, and with an abject, pleading expression.  “But will he cooperate?”
Dolores simply raised her phone.  “He’ll cooperate.  Besides, I probably won’t even need this.”
“Really?”
“Sure.  Hold on a second.”
She went to the door.  “Girls?  Are you there?”
“Coming, miss!”
In tumbled Amira and Terri.  They had their show costumes on.  Each wore a ring-mistress’s outfit, with knee boots, red tail-coat, white gloves, and top hat.  Amira wore cream riding breeches and a frilly shirt, Terri a black round-necked body and fishnets.  When they saw Donna Mae they gasped, stared, then collapsed with laughter.
“Now girls, pay attention.  You’re going to be in charge of Donna Mae.  The three of you are going to precede each new model, and announce the ensemble.  I will tell you what I want, and you will do what is necessary.  To make sure he doesn’t try to escape,  I am going to use this simple device.”
Out of the box came a long piece of narrow red ribbon.  Dolores took one end, rolled it between finger and thumb, and, kneeling down, threaded it through the upper loop on the tip of the sheath, and knotted it tightly.  The other end she tied into a loop.
“Now, who wants it first?”
“Me!”
“Me!”
“Terri, I think you were first.  Here.  Now take him with you and keep him backstage till we need him.  And Donna Mae?  No tricks, or…”

[billykins]

21.
Jeanette’s diary, 29 March 2022, continued…

My own work being over now the show was under way, I was going to make sure I had a ringside seat for the upcoming event.
“I’ll go keep an eye on them, Dolores,” said Pat.
“Me too,” I added.
Dolores watched with a wry smile as we hurried off in pursuit of the kids.  We soon caught up with them, the girls skipping along in front, Donna Mae trotting along behind, intent on keeping his lead slack.  As they passed by, heads turned, people stopped and stared, there were gasps and giggles.  Arriving backstage, with only half an hour before the show, the girls decided to freshen up their makeup.  While they were in the bathroom, they simply tethered Donna Mae to a radiator pipe outside, knowing he was incapable of freeing himself.  He attracted quite a little crowd of admirers, including most of the models preparing to go onstage.  Of course they started asking him questions.  Where did he get that lovely outfit?  Was he going down the catwalk?  (With giggles), what the bell was for?   In the end, he found it less embarrassing to reply than to stand there red-faced and dumb.
“I-I’m going to be miss’s special announcer.  I’m going to introduce the models.  I-it’s a very important job…”
“But darling, why are you holding up your skirt like that?” sniggered one girl.
“N-no, i-it’s all part of the costume, you see…  I…”
“You must be very proud of your panties,” said another, straight-faced.  “They are very pretty, I must say.  I wish I had panties like that…”
“I bet you wish you had a little bell-post like that too, Michaela,” laughed her friend.  She gave it a gentle flick, making the bell tinkle.  “I bet that gets up to some mischief, eh, little boy?  When it’s free, at least.  At the moment, though…”
“At the moment, all it can do is to look cute point the way,” said another.  “You’re obviously very proud of it, despite its smallness, showing it off to everyone like that…”
At this point the girls emerged and, ignoring Donna Mae’s admirers, untethered him and led him away to the side of the stage.  At the same time Dolores arrived holding some sheets of paper, a and a small bunch of record cards.
“Girls, come here.  You too, Pat.  And Sam, yes.  Right.  This is the order of appearance.  On these cards are the descriptions.  Girls, when you get the cue from Sam or Pat, you bring Donna Mae out onto the stage - there, stage right.  Introduce him to the audience, and tell them that today he will be introducing the models.  Now, Donna Mae.  This is what you have to do.  It's very simple.  You'll be standing on that right-hand wing of the stage, where you can be seen but you’re well clear of the catwalk itself.  Amira, you will be in charge of him, holding his lead.  Before each model, give it a little tug so his bell rings.  That will get everyone’s attention.  Then Terri?  You come on and hold up the appropriate record card so he can see it, and then, young man, you need to read out the name of the model and the description of her outfit in a loud, clear voice.  Understand?”
“Yes, miss,” said Terri, excitedly.
“Yes, miss.  I understand,” added Amira.
“Donna Mae?”  Dolores looked at him sternly.  He looked as though he was about to cry.  She took out her phone.  “Donna Mae?  Do you understand?”
The response was immediate.  “Y-yes, miss.  A-absolutely, miss.”
“Good.  Now put on a good show.  All the big buyers are here.  Including, by the way” – here she looked straight at Donna Mae – “including Sherri Anderson from Bashful Boys.  I invited her specially just because I thought she might find you interesting.  You’re more in her line than ours.  You never know – she may make you an offer.”
With this cryptic remark, Dolores retired from the stage to take up her special place in the front row of the audience.  It was her philosophy that success or failure could only be judged from the point of view of the client.

The lights were dimmed, and Sam opened the show.  She stood on the left hand side of the stage.  A spotlight sprang up, surrounding her with a bright circle of light.
“Ladies and gentlemen!  Welcome to the eighteenth Delicia Designs fashion show.  Most of you have been here many times before, so I won’t bore you with the format, except to say that our two little mistresses of ceremony, Amira and Terri, will today be assisted by the latest addition to our staff.  Please welcome them.”
From behind the half-drawn curtain on the other side emerged Terri.  The first spotlight waned, and a new shaft of light fell upon her, twinkling on her jewelled eyelashes and illuminating her rouged cheeks.  She had an excited look on her face.  She smiled, and bowed three times to the three sections of the audience.  Then, throwing out her left hand in a dramatic gesture, and simultaneously drawing back the curtain with her right, she cried, “Say hi to my co-MC Amira, and meet our new assistant, sissy-boy Donna Mae!”
Amira strode forth into the light, holding the end of the lead.  Whatever was on the other end seemed a little reluctant to follow, but a sharp tug changed its mind.  Donna Mae came stumbling forth.  He looked around, blinking.  He could see nothing.  But his audience could see everything.  He stood there, blushing, skirt lifted high, apparently at his own volition, everything on full display.
There was a moment’s absolute silence as the audience took in the scene – the terrified teenage boy, bare girlish legs exposed from the lacy tops of his sweet little socks right up to the ruffly legs of the shimmering rubber satin panties, a pink bow in his golden ringlets and another at the root of his little tightly-sheathed trembling coc-k, with its slightly bulging tip glistening with moisture.  Amira took advantage of the sudden hush to give the lead a gentle shake, the musical sound audible all around the crowded room.
Then pandemonium broke out.  Gasps and screams and whistles of delight.  Several women, Dolores noted, were making good use of their opera glasses.  A hand touched her shoulder, and a voice from behind her whispered in her ear.
“Dolores, you scheming bitch.  Where did you find him?  He’s absolutely darling!”
“I didn’t, darling.  He came to us.  It was too good a chance to let go.  Do you like him then, Sherri Anderson?”
“I like him.  I want him.  He would be ideal for our shows.  A sissy introducing sissies.  What could be better?”
“Well he’s not for sale.  If this doesn’t make them sit up and take notice, I don’t know what will.”
“Hmph.”  Sherri looked up and down the rows.  “The ladies love him all right.  And those disapproving ones are the worst.  Look at that sourpuss Patience Carshalton over there – her eyes are nearly falling out.  Well, anyway, we’ll talk about it later.  I’ll see you after the show, yes?”
“Okay, darling.”
“Later, darling.”

The show proceeded.  The first model was set to come out onto the catwalk.  Amira gave a tug at the bell-pull, and Terri thrust a card in front of Donna Mae.
“Read it!” she hissed.  “Nice and loud and clear.”
Donna Mae stared at the typewritten card.  The letters swam before his eyes.  Amira gave another tug on his lead.
“Get on with it!”
“L-ladies and g-gentlemen…I…I’m proud to p-present out f-first m-model.  Er…Cheri is wearing a…er…one of our latest creations, a l-liquid g-gold…er…l-lame…p-pleated halter…er…dress.  Cheri’s hair by Ralph Ferguson of M-Melbourne, jewellery by Denise of Sydney…”
“Good.  Keep it up!” whispered Amira.

And so it went on until lunch, which was served as a buffet at the far side of the room.  There was a buzz of conversation, little of it devoted to the ensembles which had been paraded in the morning.
To Donna Mae’s great credit, he had become more confident with each model, despite the fact he seemed to be receiving at least as much attention as they were.  Dolores was pleased.  After the last model had left the catwalk, she gave him a couple of little short buzzes, not as punishment, but as a sort of “well done”.  He sighed with relief at the prospect of a break, but after a brief visit to the toilet, Terri, who was having her turn with the lead, took him back towards the stage, where Dolores was waiting.
“Well done, Donna Mae!  You were sensational – just as I knew you would be.  Now, I think it’s time you met your public.  Girls?  Will you take Donna Mae to the buffet, please?  Have whatever you want to eat and drink, all of you.  Here, let’s take your lead off for the time being, shall we Donna?  Pat will go with you to keep an eye on you.”  And she bent down and untied the ribbon from his sheath.
“No…  Miss, I’d rather just stay here, if you don't mind.  It’s going to be awkward…my arms…  I won’t be able to shake hands or anything…  I’m sure no-one will want me down there…  Anyway, I'm not hungry at all...”
“Nonsense!  You’ll me mobbed.  And Babs is there, and your mum and her sister and Chelsie…  They’re dying to see you.  I saw Babs and Chelsie jumping up and down screaming for you at the end of the first session!  And my clients are wild about you.  No, you go and have fun.”  She hesitated and raised a warning finger.  “But look out for that Sherri Anderson.  I guarantee she’ll be all over you.  Be very careful what you say to her.  She’d like nothing better than to steal you away from us for her boys…”
“Her boys?”
“Oh, yes, well, never mind about that now.  Just go and mingle.”
“Please, miss…”
“No arguments.  Pat, would you look after him?  He must be starving, and he’ll need help  eating and drinking.”
"Happily, Dolores.  Come on Donna Mae."  She hooked a finger round his spreader bar.  "Let's go meet everyone."
Dolores smiled.  "Girls?  Behave yourselves, won’t you.  And don’t drink too much pop.  Remember there’s the whole afternoon session to go yet…”

[billykins]

22.
Jeanette’s diary, 29 March 2022, continued…

The girls ran down the stage steps, along the front row of seating, and disappeared into the throng of people eating, drinking, talking and laughing at the buffet.  Pat, Donna Mae and I followed at a steadier pace, Donna Mae hanging back and Pat towing him along.
“Pat…  I don’t want to go there…”
“Don’t be silly.  Look.  There’s Babs and the others.  They’ve seen you.  You’ll have to at least say hello.”
But Babs and Chelsie were already running over to see him.  Babs grabbed him by one arm.
“Oh my god, Donna!  I can’t believe you did that!  In front of all those people!  You did great!”  She was investigating the supports under his elbows, and the stitching at his fingertips.  “How does this work?  Shit – I get it now!  You’re, like, totally helpless, aren’t you?  You couldn’t drop your skirt if you wanted.  That’s awesome!  Totally evil!”
Chelsie was unashamedly checking out his panties and sheath.
“Babs, look at this shaft thing.  It’s, like, jelly plastic.  It’s too narrow for his little coc-k – you can see it all squashed up inside - that’s why it has a bulge at the end.  It’s being, like, squeezed really hard.  See?”
Chelsie was ultra-goth today – hair black as a black widow, red eye shadow interspersed with black spikes, shiny black lips, a little strapless vinyl dress, calf boots with three wide straps with big silver buckles, and fingerless leather gloves.  She had absolutely no inhibitions, and was holding the compressed shaft between finger and thumb for Babs to see.  Babs didn’t seem to mind, though.  She would have been quite happy to share her boyfriend with Chelsie for a bit of fun.  Chelsie gave a short laugh, and shook it, making the bell ring.  Donna Mae tried to back away.
“Oh, don’t be shy, Donna.  And I always thought you were a bit effeminate!  But I see now it’s quite the opposite!”
Donna Mae had always, secretly, had a bit of a thing for his cousin.  And now the mere sight of her, let alone her brazen handling of his chastity sheath, was having a subtle but undeniable effect.  He could feel the pressure on the shaft of his pen-is increasing, forcing the head to swell inside the unyielding plastic bulb.  She was just about to relinquish her hold on it when a little bead of clear juice oozed forth from the very tip.  The two girls looked at each other with delight.
“You bad, bad boy!” giggled Babs.  “Is that how you react to my cousin?  Wait till I get you home!”
Chelsie produced a tissue and wiped it off with all the coolness of a mother wiping a baby.
“There.  We can’t do things like that in company, now can we?”
Donna Mae was betraying signs of distress, squirming and biting his lip.  Had it not been for the special chastity device, a potentially embarrassing erection could have resulted.  But the soft jelly plastic was quite without elasticity.  The only indication of tumescence was a slight, taut quivering of the shaft.
Pat was highly amused to see how Donna Mae could be completely dominated by two females.  It fitted in perfectly with what she had already seen of him, and convinced her they would be able to get him to do almost anything they wanted.  She even toyed with the idea that Babs and Chelsie – especially Chelsie – may be persuaded to help.  But now here came his mother and Tammie, all smiles.  I did the introductions.
“Hello Mrs Graham.  Hello Tammie.  This is Pat, Dolores’s right-hand lady.  Pat, meet Donna Mae’s mother and her sister.”
“Hello.  Nice to meet you.  Babs I know…”
“Chelsie is my daughter, Pat.  You’re a naughty girl, Chelsie!  I saw what you were up to.”
“But mum – you can’t ignore it, can you?  Specially when it’s pointing straight at you!”
“Love the little bell, sweetie,” said Melinda. 
“You should keep it on him, sis.  You’d always know when he was coming.”
“c-umming?” said Chelsie, innocently.  “Yes, you certainly would!”
“Chelsie!  You’ve got such a dirty mind!”
“Wonder where I got that from, mum…”
They all laughed.  But already several other women were approaching, amongst them Sherri Anderson.
The kisses and cuddles Donna Mae was receiving from everyone can’t have helped his arousal.  But Sherri stood patiently aside, looking at him like a cat contemplating its next meal.  Eventually she approached.
“Donna Mae.  So lovely to meet you.  I’d already heard about you, and now today I’ve seen for myself.  I appreciate Dolores’s skill with costumes, but if you’ll permit me to say, you have something special which transcends mere superficial attractions.”
“Thank you, but…”
“That performance was nothing short of breathtaking.  You realise all eyes were on you, even when those beautiful models were moving down the catwalk?”
“I don’t think…”
“Don’t be so modest.  Dolores must be paying you an awful lot of money for your services.”
“Money?  No…  I’m just visiting…  She’s been very kind…  allowed me to take part…though not quite how I’d hoped…” 
“I’m sorry.  Do I understand…you’re not being paid?”
“Well…no…I…”
“Nothing?”  She took a step back, and looked him up and down.  “How can she do that?  Is it even legal?”
“What are you saying, er…Miss...?”
“Sherri Anderson.  I own Bashful Boys.  You may have heard of it.”
“No, but…”
“We specialise in dresses for boys.  We’re unique.  We have regular shows, but our MCs get paid – and paid well.”
This clearly appealed to Melinda Graham’s streak of materialism.
“How much?  Er, I mean, what sort of remuneration…?”
“For a day, at least two hundred and fifty dollars.  In a costume like that, more.”
“Really?  Donna Mae?  Has Dolores offered to pay you?  Anything at all?”
“Er…I think she may have said we’d talk about it…  Really mum, I don’t want anything…”
Tammie interrupted.  “Mel?  There she is, look.  Why don’t you ask her?”
“I shall.”

Now what I didn’t know at the time, but I discovered afterwards, was that this was a put-up job, dreamt up between Dolores and Sherri, to get Donna Mae contractually bound to Dolores, in return for which she hire him out to Sherri!  I know!  Machiavelli would have looked an innocent compared to these two!  But Melinda took the bait.

“Dolores?  A word, if I may.  I believe it is normal practice” – a glance towards Sherri – “normal commercial practice, that if someone works for you – say as an MC – he or she gets paid for it.”
“Absolutely, Mrs Graham.”
“So…Donna Mae?”
“I have a contract in my office, all prepared.  He would have to commit to a certain number of hours a week – I was thinking in terms of ten or twelve.  His salary would start at twelve hundred dollars a month, with one-off payments of three hundred dollars a day for special work like today’s.  He will of course be paid for today irrespective of whether he signs a contract or not.”
Melinda, startled, looked at Sherri, who made a face which said, “well, that sounds like a really good deal”.
“Really?  Well, that sounds very reasonable…”  She was thinking that sort of cash would come in very useful to her. 
“Of course, you’d have to agree, and it would be signed by Donna Mae and counter-signed by you.  I realise it would be quite a commitment for both of you.  Though of course, Delicia would also pay all his travelling expenses.  Why don’t you think about it and let me know?”
But Melinda Graham knew a good deal when she saw it, and she was not about to let this one get away.  “No, I think it’s fair.  Very fair.  Let’s go to your office now and tie things up.  Donna?”
“No, it’s all right.  Donna Mae can sign any time.  Your signature will be enough for now.  You are the parent.  It’ll be quite binding.”

They left him to attentions of his many female admirers, and by the time Pat dragged him away to the buffet he was in severe discomfort, his little bell tinkling almost non-stop.  Meanwhile Melinda had signed the contract.  So eager was she to realise the deal, she ignored Dolores’s advice to check the small print, and she failed to register the notice clause, which demanded six months’ notice either way with a penalty of ten thousand dollars.  In other words, Donna Mae was now virtually a prisoner of Delicia.  But then, avarice reaps its own rewards, though in this case it looked at first sight as though the rewards were shackles not for the avaricious, but for the innocent.

[billykins]

23.
Jeanette’s diary, 29 March 2022, continued…

The confidence Donna Mae had acquired during the morning session should have supported him through the afternoon.  But what equanimity he felt was now being undermined by the constant pressure on his constricted boyhood. 
“Pat?  Could you ask Dolores if I could have my arms released?  I think I’m getting cramp.”
“Sorry, Donna Mae.  Dolores would never agree.  Think how disappointed your audience would be if you came out for the afternoon session with your dress down.”
“But…” -  he lowered his voice – “but, I’m feeling…you know…”
“What?”
“I think – I mean I can’t see it, but I think…my thing…is getting bigger…”
“Let me look…  Nonsense.  It’s just as it was – little and cute.  I mean, obviously the sheath is quite nice and…er, perky, but the device will keep what’s inside firmly under control  It doesn’t matter how aroused you get, be assured it will stay just the same size.  So relax.  I’m sorry if it’s a bit uncomfortable, but I’m afraid that’s the price you have to pay for the honour of being an MC.”
“But…”
“Now settle down.  You’re on in ten minutes.  Here, let me see what you look like.  Just straighten your ribbon…so…”   She winked.  “Better check the other one, eh?  There…”  She frowned.  “Hmm.  Yes, I can see you are getting a little bit…you know…juicy.  I’ll just give that a wipe.”  She took out a tissue and gently wiped the tip.  But as soon as she took it away, another clear drop appeared.
“Everything okay, Pat?”  Dolores was making a final check.
“Yes…  Just a little…oozing…”
“Let me see…  Goodness!  We can’t let him go on like that.  And we can’t be wiping him every five minutes.  What can we do?”
“Maybe we should take it off and let him drop his hem…”
“What?  Can you imagine the reaction?  I’d be a laughing-stock!”
“I don’t know what to suggest…”
Dolores turned to me.  “Jeanette?  Any ideas?”
I blurted the only solution I could think of.  “Maybe a condom?”
“Condom?  Are you serious?  Can you imagine…  No.  But wait.  I have an idea.  Stay here.  Don’t move.  Don’t start the show till I get back.”

She was away no more than two minutes.  Donna Mae stood there with an expression of injured dignity.  She returned with Amira and Terri following in her wake.
“Girls.  Stay where you are.  I just have to…er, to make an small adjustment to Donna Mae’s costume.”
“What adjustment, miss?  Mum?  What are you doing?”
“Nothing darling.  Just stay well back, all right?”
“But…”
“Shh.  Dolores is busy.”
“But what’s she doing?”
Dolores was holding her phone in one hand and a little red party balloon in the other. 
“I’m hoping this will do the trick.  Left over from the last show.”
“Miss?”
Dolores turned Donna Mae with his back to the girls, and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Here, girls.  Take this into the back room.  Play some games and leave us be for a couple of minutes.”  She slid her phone across the floor to where they were standing.   Amira picked it up.  They were still curious but they did what they were told.
Dolores carefully removed the bell from its loop.  The she pulled open the balloon neck as wide as she could and attempted to push it onto Donna Mae’s device.  Pat held the shaft still.  It was a bit of a struggle getting the neck over the bulge, but Donna Mae’s juices helped lubricate the process, and with a final effort it slipped on.
“Yes!  Perfect.”
She and Pat together rolled the neck back to the base of the shaft.  The bulge at the end fitted nicely into the body of the balloon.
“It was made for the job!” grinned Pat.  “That was a stroke of genius, Dolores.”
“Necessity is the mother of invention.  How does that feel, Donna Mae?”
“O-okay…,” he said, slowly.  “I s’pose…”
“Right.  Pat, you can get things under way.  I’m going to wash my hands.”

The afternoon session commenced.  The girls were curious to see what “adjustment” had been made to Donna Mae’s accoutrements, and were surprised to see the shaft now sheathed in red rubber. 
“What’s she done, Terri?”
“It’s a balloon!  See?  A party balloon!”
They giggled delightedly.  The modification would have been lost on all but the front row of the audience, however.  As Donna Mae appeared from behind the curtain, he was greeted by a burst of applause interspersed with wolf whistles.  He was clearly the star of the show.
“Well done, Dolores,” whispered Pat.  “you saved the day.”
“Now he can ooze to his heart’s content,” laughed Dolores.

[billykins]

24.
Jeanette’s diary, 29 March 2022, continued…

Unfortunately for Donna Mae, the afternoon session included several rather sexy outfits – revealing tops, skin-tight leggings, latex ensembles, thigh boots with mini-skirts, and so on, none of which were calculated to soothe his overwrought state.  Nevertheless he worked his way though the announcements with only occasional stammering and blushing until the last model had left the catwalk.  The balloon was doing its job.  Only those in the first row noticed the bulge at the tip had swelled slightly since the beginning of the session.  Then came the closing valedictions.  I knew that the girls had been well-briefed on their part in the ceremonies.  And I have to say that, up to a point, everything went absolutely to plan.

After the models had, one by one, taken a bow, Dolores appeared on stage with all her staff – including me – for a final curtain call.  Then all of us, except Dolores, left the stage.  Everyone was beginning to collect their things together, preparatory to leaving their seats, when Dolores spoke again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I think you will join with me in expressing particular gratitude to out three young MCs…” - (wild applause) – “and especially to our new recruit Donna Mae, who played such a striking and upstanding part” – (laughter) – “in the proceedings.  Girls…Donna Mae…please…”
The girls appeared on stage, holding Donna Mae between them by his arms.  Again the audience had a chance to admire those loose shimmering pink panties sprinkled with little red hearts, and the proud little beribboned sheath, quivering with excitement, jutting from them.  I saw a woman pointing.  I think she was wondering what had happened to his bell.  Having all the attention focussed solely on him, Donna Mae began to feel self-conscious again.  The girls marched him down the catwalk, just as if he were one of the models.  I wouldn't be surprised if he was experiencing a little involuntary thrill of excitement, realising for the first time the sensation he had dreamt of for so long.  They led him to the centre of the turntable.  He was dazed by the adulation, the bright lights, the whole heady experience - so much so, he didn’t notice the girls stoop and, with a short chain fitted with carabiners, clip his ankle straps to the turntable bar!  Their mission accomplished, they quickly retired  to the stage, and then slipped down into the audience. 
At Dolores’s signal the turntable started to revolve.  Donna Mae woke up to his predicament too late.  To his dismay, he found himself quite unable to move.  His feet were held firmly side-by-side, in the middle of the turntable.  It turned slowly, allowing every section of the audience a perfect view under his uplifted skirt.  People rose to their feet and pushed forward to take photos and videos.  Dolores and her friends congratulated themselves on the success of their little subterfuge.  Dolores thought she would ring Sherri and see if she approved.  She reached for her phone.  Now, where did she put it?  Oh, of course.  The girls.  Now where were they…?

I was sent to look for them.  I found them in the front row of the audience.  Terri was watching Donna Mae's helpless embarrassment  with great amusement.  But I could see Amira, at this moment, was more interested in Dolores’s phone.  I decided not to interrupt them.
“Terri?  What’s this app?”  A red shape like a candle on a holder inside a red circle.  Definitely not something she recognised.  She touched the icon.  Hmm.  A bar graduated from zero to ten, with a movable control.  It was on zero.  She moved it up a couple of notches.  As she did so, Donna Mae gave a little cry, and began squirming.  A coincidence, surely.  She moved it back to zero.  Immediately he relaxed.  She tried again.  The same effect!  She moved it up to five.  He began to struggle and make a strange noise, a sort of “ooo…ooo…nooo…” 
“Terri!  Terri, quick!  Look at this!  Watch!”  She gave her friend a demonstration.
“Is it that making him….?”
“Yes!  Here, you try!”
Terri slid the control back and forth a few times.  Donna Mae reacted proportionately.
“How does it work?”
“No idea.  Maybe little electric shocks or something.”
“Have you tried it on ten?”
“No…”
“Shall we?”
“Go on, then…”

The result was so remarkable that the girls were quite shocked by their own power.  Donna Mae, revolving at a rate of about a circuit every fifty seconds, began to emit “ahs” and “oohs”, interspersed with pleading sounds, and to perform a sort of dance; thighs pressed tightly together, bottom pushed out, body bobbing up and down, sheath bouncing in time with his movements.  The audience went wild.  Amira and Terri looked at each other.
“Turn it down.”
“Yeah…”
“Okay, Terri, tell you what.  Let’s not be cruel.  Let’s put it on four and leave it, yeah?”
“Yeah.  There we go.  That’s better.  He doesn’t seem to mind that too much.  He may even be enjoying it.  He looks sort of, like…sexy.”
It was true.  Donna Mae’s movements had become slow and sensual, as if he was being made love to by some invisible entity.  The audience loved it.  They thought he was putting it on for their benefit. 
“I think that’s just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” said a woman behind me.
“I know!” said her friend.  “He’s so naughty!  I hope Dolores gives him a good spanking after this.”
I could see Dolores peering into the audience from one side of the stage.  She must have guessed what was going on.  But she couldn’t see the girls from where she was, and I wasn’t about to help her.  I looked back at Donna Mae, slowly revolving and slowly gyrating.  His cries had been replaced with barely-audible moans.  His little constricted coc-k was quivering of its own volition now, and the end of the balloon was noticeably distended with his juices.  The buzz of conversation and the ripples of laughter slowly subsided as the audience watched in fascination.  There was sense of expectation in the air.  All that could be heard was the occasional murmured comment, and his increasingly frequent gasps and moans.  It was soon obvious to everyone that he was in a highly aroused state.  His cheeks were very red, his eyes closed.  The balloon rubber was taut, and wobbled slightly as he moved.  I, like many of the others, was on tenterhooks.  I decided I couldn’t wait any longer.  I took the phone from Amira, and opened the app.  I waited until he was facing away from the audience, then turned it up to ten.  I reckoned the climax would peak after about a hundred an eighty degrees.  I congratulate myself I calculated it about right.

There was a moments pause, then he let out a shout of ecstasy, immediately followed, as he revolved to face the left hand sector of the audience, by a series of desperate cries, accompanying the spasms of his orgasm - cries which only subsided into sobs and whimpers after he had described a full three hundred and sixty degrees.  Considering the compression of his pen-is, his orgasm must have been almost as painful as it was pleasurable.  It made me shiver to imagine the force with which his semen was spurting into the balloon-condom.  I discovered later that the effect of the chastity device was to restrict the volume of each individual ejaculation, thus increasing the duration of the orgasm!  As he came, the pumping sperm gradually inflated the body of the balloon, and by the time he was facing the right hand side of the auditorium, it was as big as a hen’s egg, weighing down the end of his twitching shaft!
I don’t think the audience could quite believe what they had witnessed.  When eventually his climax receded, and his body was convulsed only by occasional aftershocks, Dolores gave the order for the turntable to be stopped.  Donna Mae sank onto his knees and fists, gasping for breath.  The audience, as if woken from their trance, erupted into wild applause.  I led the girls back up onto the stage, and gave Dolores her phone.  She glared at them with mock severity.
“It was an accident…” began Amira.
“Of course, darling.”  She sent them to release his ankles and help him to his feet.  With their support he stumbled back up to the stage, and slipped behind the curtain.  The audience was still applauding and calling for him.
“You know you’re going to have to do a curtain call,” said Dolores, smiling.
“No…”
“Yes.  Your public wants you.  You can’t disappoint them.”
“But…this thing…”  He nodded to the bulging balloon hanging from the end of his pen-is.
“Pat?  Could you…?”
“Sure.”
Pat took him aside and manged to remove the balloon without accident.  She held it up for him to see.
“Impressive, Donna Mae!”
“Very,” said Dolores.  “Shame to waste it.” 
She stretched the neck, threaded it around the stitches that connected Donna Mae’s fingers to his hem, and tied it off, so that it hung down as if he were holding it up for all to see.  Then she dragged him back on stage, made him take a bow, and led him up and down the catwalk a couple of times, with his little balloonful of semen swinging before him.  Ladies were calling to him a trying to reach him from below as if he were some sort of pop star!

What a finale!  I don’t think anyone present at that show will forget that afternoon.  I do know that Sherri Anderson and Dolores were ensconced together for a hour afterwards, and as a result Donna Mae is going to be seconded to Bashful Boys for their shows.  I’ve never seen one, but I gather the boys model a whole range of girls’ clothes, anything from elegant dresses for adults through teens and right down to toddlers and babies.  I’ve asked if it would be possible for me to accompany him on these occasions.  I’m really fond of Donna Mae, and I would like to make sure, since I know nothing at all about Sherri Anderson, that he’s well looked after, and not abused in any way.  As for Donna Mae himself, he seems no worse for the experience.  He signed the contract, and when he was made aware of the terms he didn’t seem too upset.  Babs and Chelsie have said they will support him in all his ambitions.  Amira and Terri are excited that he's here to stay.  I think he’s resigned himself to a life of sartorial slavery.  I have a suspicion that the lure and romance of the fashion industry trumps any misgivings he may feel, and that he is somewhat in awe of the Dolores’s reputation and professionalism.   The way he hangs on her every word, responds to her every command, and submits to her every whim, indicates to me it is a relationship agreeable to both of them.

[Dancer4Fun]

Hi Billykins.

I loved the ending.

I assume it is the end.

Your story was a long way from the way I had written the original.

Please let us know as soon as possible if it is finished as I would like to post my original but don't want to until you have finished.

DonnaMae

[billykins]

Hi DonnaMae -
Yes, that was the end.  I'm looking forward to reading your story, and I hope this is a sign your health is improving.  Thank you again for letting me steal - perhaps borrow - your idea.  It's always easier to build on someone else's foundations that to dig your own!
Very best,
billykins