Tracy unveils her plan.

The lawyer inspected the paperwork and saw that everything was in order. He didn’t touch his champagne, clearly sensing that something was amiss with the couple but uncertain. That had been Luke’s lawyer for the last five years but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. The lawyer stood, shook Tracy’s hand professionally and looked down at Luke, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. Then he turned and left with the paperwork.

Luke eyed the untouched glass of bubbly but felt little desire to celebrate. He sipped his Shirley Temple. “So...?” He asked.

“So...” Tracy echoes as she pushed a phone across the table. It had a cute pink hello kitty case. “This was mine. Passcode is set to your thumb print... I’ve set up your daily callender. You’re going to be busy. A couple of dancing classes. Cooking classes. Sewing classes. Fashion and makeup sessions. Massage training. Yoga classes. And I’ve got you two regular jobs. Casual waitress work and ... well a dancing job.” Tracy’s eyes danced with mirth.

“I can’t dance.” Like muttered, fearful of the implications. “Where am I waiting and dancing?” He asked.

“You’ll be waiting at Earls Tavern,” Tracy said and watched in amusement as the penny dropped. Earls Tavern was a topless bar. A seedy place that no self respecting girl would enter let alone work in. “You’ll be dancing at Goldfingers...” a strip joint. “Dancing skills and wait skills are secondary to your being cute, sexy and half naked.”

“Half naked?” Luke repeated, knowing that at Goldfingers the girls usually left the stage buck naked. They did lap dances. Some of them went further. And with his pitifully small breasts the focus would be on what was in his panties. He grabbed the champagne and took a drink with shaking fingers. It tasted terrible and his pretty lips formed a pout of disgust. Undeveloped taste buds... the **** churned warmly in his stomach.

Tracy shrugged. “You’d know. You and your friends and clients frequented the place often enough. I was thinking of you... and you’ll still be able to spend time with Mandy Melons...” Tracy said archly, mentioning the stripper Luke favoured and had slept with on occasion. She knew? “But you’ll need a stage name. Tracy Tightlips? Tracy Tiny Tits? Racy Tracy... Hmmm we’ll see.”

Luke flushed, realising how much Tracy wanted him to squirm. He imagined himself topless and serving men, petite, nervous and self conscious amongst giant males. His bee stung breasts jiggled inconsequentially as his G-string hung hips swayed sexily. It should have disgusted him but it did the opposite. He’d be cute and sexy and... And stripping - hot and sweaty on stage, an sinuously graceful object of desire and beauty on display, revealing more and more of this female body he wore. He shivered as he buried the thought and the emotions it engendered.

“You want me to be a whore?” He whispered.

“No. Hardly. Just reduced to a sexual object. What you had planned for me.” She sipped her champagne and took Luke’s from him. “You’re too young to drink my pet.” She admonished him. “But not too young to sleep with. But you’re mine. You can’t sleep with anyone unless I allow it. No matter how much you want too.”

Luke snorted high and effetely. “Like I’d want too,” he said, all girlish bravado. He almost giggled at how ridiculous he sounded.

The smile that played on Tracy’s lips told Luke he wasn’t fooling anyone. She looked at the small timid girl her husband had become and felt a dominant urge fill her. “Oh, I think you’ll want too. But you wont be able to. The loyalty ingrained in you tome is way too strong. You’re in for a busy few months. You’re going to be too tired to think...”