Penelope Takes Over

by WishItWereMe

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© Copyright 2015 - WishItWereMe - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; M/f; F/m; brothel; sexslave; escape; stuck; cd; public; bond; cons/reluct; X

Victor walked along the dark Parisian street. As a budding (but successful) artist, he had come to Paris with the romantic idea that he would draw girls as they stripped in the clubs. He thought that although he was sure that cameras would be unacceptable, no-one would object to some discreet sketching with pencil and paper.  He had found an address of a less ‘touristy’ strip club but it was eluding him. In front of him, an old woman stood in a doorway. He paused.  “Strip club?” he enquired. “Troisièmeàdroite.” she growled without looking at him. He went on without thanking her.

The doorway had no signs and he hesitated. A tall elegant woman with dark hair and an air of both menace and  authority looked him over, took in his long hair and effeminate appearance  (Victor would have said ‘artistic’) and grudgingly said “Suivez-moi , monsieur.” in a way that told him that the ‘monsieur’ was for appearances only.

He followed her upstairs to a large dark room. As his eyes adjusted, he could see two long cross-wise trestle tables in front of him with benches. There was a lone man on the furthest table sitting with his head in his hands. He did not look up.  A third bench ran at right angles to the others along the left wall. Seated at this were a number of men who had drinks and were laughing and joking together. Standing at the farthest end of the bench was a thickset man in a suit who was watching him carefully and not taking any part in the revelry.

She indicated to him to sit at the first bench, threaded through the other tables and walked on through a door at the far left corner of the room behind the doorman. He continued to stare at Victor. Victor felt menaced, like a rabbit in car headlights. He knew he was easily intimidated.

He looked around the room, trying to take his mind off the feeling of oppression. Behind him to the left was a large television screen which was not showing anything. In front, the wall had the door the woman had walked through, a large black curtain, which he presumed hid a stage, and another door on the right, matching the first one. There appeared to be no windows and all the walls were painted black, contributing to the general air of gloom.

After what seemed an eternity to Victor he was suddenly aware of a young girl slipping herself onto to bench alongside him. He moved left slightly to accommodate her. “Bonne soirée, monsieur.” She whispered. “Je suis Penelope.” She pronounced her name like “Penny – lope” and it took him some time to work out what she had said. He looked at her as a potential subject for drawing. She was not pretty, but had a firm square face and strong jawline.  Suddenly, the situation dawned on Victor. “Is this a strip club?” he asked desperately.  She looked at him incredulously. “Non, c’est un bordel.”

“I must go.” He said. “C’est impossible.” She replied , then changed to English .”They will beat me for failing with you.”

“Combien?” he asked, dredging up some French. “Deux cent.” She replied.“For the night.”

He was taken aback. So much?  He thought that was about all his wallet contained. “I am a virgin.” He admitted with shame.

“Unevierge? Moisaussi. C’est ma première fois.” she replied. ”Ne vousinquiétez pas.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. He realised he was concerned for this girl.

“Because I owe them money.”

At this, she stood up, took his hand, and led him through the right hand door. He was unable to resist. To his surprise, she was as tall as he was. As they crossed the room, he could see the doorman relax and out of the corner of his eye he spied movement as one man rose to switch on the TV. As they ascended the stairs Victor said “Are they going to watch us?”


They arrived at the second floor landing and she preceded him into a bedroom. It surprised him how clean and friendly it looked. The room was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp. He looked quickly around for a camera, but was unable to spot one. He resigned himself to his fate.

“Money first.” She said, speaking in English again. She had scarcely any accent, he realised.

He took the two hundred Euros out of his wallet and gave it to her. It was virtually all he had in it. She put it on the dressing table.

She faced him and kicked off her high heels. He removed his shoes and socks.

She smiled at his actions and removed her cardigan. He removed his fleece.

She pulled off her blouse and he followed with his shirt.

While she stepped out of her short skirt, he slid out of his jeans.

With a wave of her hand to indicate he should wait, she removed her tights and her bra, which he saw was heavily padded, to reveal two small appealing breasts. He realised that he was very attracted to her.

She smiled again and started to remove her pants. With difficulty, Victor copied her, but he was hampered by his erection that he had not been fully aware of. He realised that he had actually enjoyed the whole sequence and had forgotten about the camera.

Penelope took a condom from a drawer in the bedside table, knelt in front of him, and rolled it over his erection. “They made me practise this on a banana.” She said, smiling. Victor, even more aroused, was speechless.

She stood up, took his hand again and they walked to the bed. “That gave them a good show.” she said, waving to the invisible camera.

She lay on the bed and opened her legs. The smile had left her face as she returned to the seriousness of her situation. He realised that he didn’t want to hurt her, he wanted to worship her. He knelt at the foot of the bed. “We had better see if we can both enjoy this.” he said. He leaned forward and, as gently as he could, parted her labia. He was aware of how inexperienced he was. He hoped his knowledge of the female anatomy was sufficient. As he cautiously lowered his head, she saw his hesitation and pointed to her clitoris with a finger and said “Just there, please.” He looked up and smiled in thanks, before applying his tongue and lips to the indicated spot.

Victor was surprised how good she tasted. There was a delicate aroma of her scent and a musky warmness. She wriggled gently as he stimulated her. After a short time she cried out “Je suis prêt!” and pulled his head up. He followed her cue and moved over her. Penelope transferred her hands to his engorged penis and guided it into her moist vagina and then dropped her hands to her side. He tentatively started gently to move in and out. She raised her hands and grabbed his buttocks. “No, no, faster and harder.” she exhorted and pulled him towards her vigorously. They writhed together then came explosively in mutual ecstasy. After a few moments, he rolled off her and lay still panting. She rolled towards him. “I was told it could take some practice to come simultaneously.” She laughed. She reached onto the bedside table and drew off a few tissues. She dried herself with the first. She carefully removed the condom from his shrivelled penis and wrapped it in the tissue. She wiped his penis with another. He whimpered slightly, as it was still sensitive. “Be brave.” She mocked him.

For some time, they lay together in each other’s arms. “I am sorry.” She said. “I like you a lot.” The apology puzzled him, but while he was thinking about it, exhaustion and sleep overtook him and he slept soundly.

Victor woke suddenly. It was light in the room and the older woman was standing over the bed. “The little shit has gone!” she cried. She scooped the money off the dressing table and stormed out of the room, yelling for the doorman at the top of her voice.

Now he knew why Penelope had apologised – she intended to desert him in the night. He rose from the bed and looked for his clothes. Slowly it dawned on him that she had taken his as a disguise and left hers behind. That explained how she had managed to leave the building, helped by their similar heights and his long ‘artistic’ hair. He suddenly felt very stupid.  He also had a feeling of great loss, realising how much he adored Penelope and how much the sex had meant to him. He wanted to repeat it again and again.

The woman returned to take a second look around the room. “What about clothes?” he asked, vainly trying to cover his nudity. She shrugged dismissively, waved at Penelope’s discarded clothes on the floor, and left again, closing the door behind her. He stood up and looked for clothes in all the cupboards and drawers. They were all empty.

He picked up her clothes and examined them. They were clean and presentable. He started by putting on the panties, which were white and lacy and were totally inadequate in retaining his balls and penis. He wondered why she had taken his underpants, as they wouldn’t have contributed to her disguise. He could think of no reason. He realised that he would need her tights to keep his tackle supported. Very gingerly, he pulled them on and, with some difficulty, managed to get them straight without holing them. His legs suddenly felt warm, which he had not expected. As a bonus, they were opaque black and concealed the few hairs on his legs. He admired his legs, which were surprisingly attractive and shapely in the tights.

He put on the blouse, realised that it hung emptily at the front, took it off and put on the padded bra. He was forced to hook it at the front, rotate it, and insert his arms, as he couldn’t manage the clasp behind his back. His appreciation of women was raised a notch. The blouse smelled of her scent and he had a sudden painful return of his sense of loss. He folded up several tissues to supplement each cup before replacing the blouse. He put on the skirt and was acutely aware of how close the hemline was to his crotch and how vulnerable it made him feel.  His appreciation of women was again enhanced.

Finally he slipped on the cardigan to complete his transformation.

He looked in the mirror. Despite his misgivings, he thought he would pass as a girl in all but the closest inspection. His long hair was a mess, however. There was a brush on the dressing table. He brushed his hair and, on impulse, removed it from behind his ears, gave it a more pronounced centre parting and brushed it so it hung down just clear of his eyes each side of his face. The result startled him – he looked quite feminine. Despite his fears, he was beginning to feel excited as his undiscovered feminine character began to assert itself.

He contemplated the high heels with apprehension. He had no choice. Apart from the spectacle he would make walking through the streets barefoot, he didn’t fancy negotiating possible Parisian dog-turds without shoes. He forced them on. They were clearly a half size too small and were immediately slightly painful. He stood up and tottered a few steps. He walked around the room, gaining confidence. He soon worked out that the smaller the steps he took the more stable he felt. His feet also became number and the pain was bearable.

Victor sat on the bed to rest and to compose himself for a few minutes. He realised that he had an erection and that the female clothes excited him. He could feel that the end of his penis was wet.

He saw that Penelope had taken his wallet and left her small clutch bag. His passport and his phone were in his fleece pockets. He opened the clutch bag. Make-up, tissues, a Metro pass, her passport and a small purse with a few Euro coins in it. He kept it and walked to the door. He continued down the stairs and into the large room, which was now empty. He crossed the room and down the last flight of stairs to the street. There was no one at the door and he walked out from the gloomy building into the bright sun without interference.

Victor retraced his earlier steps along the street until he reached the Metro entrance, where he started to meet people for the first time. He was apprehensive, but soon realised that no one was taking any notice of him. To his relief, Penelope’s Metro pass let him onto the platform.  On the train, an old man sat opposite ogling his legs and trying to look up his skirt while he stood by the door. He was simultaneously gratified and appalled when he felt his backside being groped as the old man passed himleaving the train.

He left the Metro at his hotel stop and walked into the foyer to the reception desk. “Cent quatre-vingts six s’ilvous plait.” he said in as high a voice as he could.

“Il est déjà pris.”

He rapidly ran up to the first floor and along to his room.To his immense relief, Penelope was sitting on his bed with his ready-filled backpack beside her. She cried with joy and rushed up to hug and kiss him. She stood back and appraised him. “You look fantastic!” she cried. “Just sit here – you need some make up.” She deftly applied some lipstick and eyeliner from her clutch bag to emphasise his mouth and eyes.

“Don’t we just change back?” Victor asked.

“You don’t understand. They are the Mafia. There is no time. We must leave France immediately. If we are caught, you can decoy them while I run away. I hope you were not followed.”

“Anyway, you can see that I have had my hair cut this morning while I was waiting for you. It is a lot shorter than yours and much more like your passport photo.”

Victor didn’t like the idea, but she was already moving to the door with his backpack and he followed docilely. She paid the hotel bill using his credit card. “PIN?” she demanded discretely. “9251.”he obediently whispered back. Outside, she hailed a taxi. “Gare du Nord.” She told the driver.

He realised that she was taking over the situation and he was readily accepting the submissive female role.

Again using his credit card at the station she bought two Eurostar tickets to London, retaining his passport and returning her own to him. He looked at the photo. It wasn’t a bad match but wouldn’t bear really close scrutiny, he thought. He need not have worried. The border control officer took a cursory look at both their EU passports and tickets and waved them through.

They found their seats in what was a quite empty carriage. Penelope waved Victor into the window seat and then joined him. She looked relieved to be leaving Paris and its dangers. She looked critically at Victor and then felt the wadded tissues inside his bra. “We will have to get you some hormone treatment.” she announced. “No, on second thoughts, implants. I need you to continue to be able to perform.” Victor looked horrified.” We’re not staying like this!”

“Oh yes we are. You will make a better woman than I and I will make a better man than you.” Penelope removed the draw cord and from the top of his backpack and neatly tied his wrists together. Victor didn’t resist. It was purely symbolic – he could easily untie the knots with his teeth – but he realised that it reflected the situation and perhaps he wanted it. She was in charge and he was clearly the weaker partner. She laughed in compassion to his weakness, leaned over to him and kissed him tenderly on the lips, at the same time gently massaging his balls with the palm of her hand.

“I’ve got to have some larger size shoes.” he said.

“With higher heels. And shorter skirts.” replied Penelope maliciously. “And we will need some more rope.”

“Two other things – on the subject of short skirts, keep your knees together, you are showing too much thigh – and from now on you are now Penelope and I am Victor”

The new Penelope nodded obediently and moved ‘her’ knees closer together.

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