Freedom's Illusion: A Dance of Dominance

Chapter 19: Bound by Glitter and Pain

Alex left the salon feeling completely humiliated and awkward, the buttplug still lodged firmly inside him. The unfamiliar sensation of it was maddening—he couldn't wait to find a place where he could remove it. But, of course, doing so at the salon was impossible. The girl, or should he now call her his mistress, stood by the entrance with a sly grin, watching him as he stepped out. She clearly enjoyed his discomfort, and before he could leave, she leaned in and whispered into his ear, "You'll need to come back here frequently for nail maintenance, darling. Don't think you're done with me yet." The words sent a chill down his spine as he hurried outside.

But before that, the humiliation had reached new heights. The salon girl hadn't simply let him slip away quietly after the manicure. She had paraded him in front of the salon's clientele, proudly showcasing his glittering red nails to every woman seated there. "Look at this shade!" she exclaimed loudly to the room, holding Alex's trembling hand up for all to see. "Isn't it just perfect for him?" Her voice dripped with mockery, and Alex could feel the stares burning into him.

A group of younger women giggled among themselves, not even bothering to hide their amusement, while others whispered behind their hands. "Such a bold choice for a man," one woman said sarcastically. "Oh, he's really owning it," another replied with a smirk. Alex could do nothing but stand there, face flushed with shame, feeling utterly exposed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she let him go—but not without a final reminder that she controlled when and how his nails would be maintained from now on.

No sooner had he stepped onto the street than the bracelet vibrated once again, the display lighting up with new instructions: "Time for pierced ears..."

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened as he stared at the bracelet in disbelief. Pierced ears? Dread bubbled up in his chest as he processed the latest command. He wondered, his mind racing, Where will this end? But as he stood frozen, the bracelet sent a sharp jolt of electricity through his wrist. The sudden pain made him gasp, and he realized he didn't have time to hesitate. He had to comply.

Still sore from the buttplug and with the eyes of passersby on him, Alex shuffled down the street, the clicks of his red high heels echoing loudly against the pavement. His heart pounded with each step as he tried to keep his head down, avoiding the stares of strangers. Their eyes seemed to linger on him, as though they were all silently judging his humiliating transformation.

Spotting a nearby jewelry store, Alex headed there. Let's just get this over with, he thought. However, his dread only grew as he pushed open the door. Inside, a pristinely dressed middle-aged lady stood behind the counter. Her hair was neatly styled, and her eyes scanned him up and down. At first, her gaze landed on his shoes, and her lips thinned into a line of disapproval. Then her eyes traveled upward, taking in his manicured nails and the faint outline of his chest, barely concealed by his coat.

Her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms. "Oh no," she said, her voice cold and sharp, "we do not serve freaks here." She made sure to raise her voice loud enough for the other customers to hear, and the humiliation hit Alex like a wave. Several people in the store turned to look at him, sneering or laughing openly at his appearance. One young man even muttered under his breath, "What a joke," as he smirked.

Alex could barely muster the strength to respond. His mind felt foggy with shame as he turned on his heel and left the store, utterly defeated.

Wandering aimlessly down the street, still drawing stares from everyone who passed, Alex felt utterly lost. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small tattoo and piercing shop nestled between two larger storefronts. Maybe they won't care. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, the sound of rock music filling the air.

A heavily tattooed woman with bright blue hair greeted him from behind the counter. She glanced at his shoes and nails, but her reaction was far different from the others. "Seen stranger," she said with a shrug, and motioned for him to take a seat.

Relieved, Alex sat down, though the buttplug's presence made it uncomfortable. She quickly gathered her equipment and got to work, sterilizing his ears before marking the spot for the piercings. As the needle pierced through his skin, Alex winced but didn't complain—at this point, pain had become his companion. The woman placed two simple silver studs in his ears and handed him a mirror to inspect them.

"Looks good," she said casually, wiping her hands. Alex nodded weakly, offering a small, forced smile. It was done.

His new earrings in place, Alex stepped out of the shop, but the discomfort in his rear had become unbearable. He longed to remove the buttplug, but as soon as he arrived home and dropped his pants, the bracelet sent out its warning—a sharp, painful burst that told him the buttplug was staying put.

With tears of frustration in his eyes, Alex sat down gingerly on the couch, wriggling in place, trying to find some position that didn't aggravate the discomfort. His bracelet displayed a final message: "Another thing you'll wear permanently..."

Tears welled up in Alex's eyes as he sank onto the couch, the buttplug still firmly in place. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that wouldn't exacerbate the growing ache in his body. But there was no relief. His new reality had settled in—piece by piece, he was being stripped of his freedom.