|email@example.com | Forum Feedback|
|© Copyright 2016 - SwitchMan - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: M/f; F/m; fake-photos; revenge; tricked; bond; cuffs; susp; chains; gag; naked; photos; tease; toys; insert; denial; climax; cons/reluct; X||
|Bondage Fake SwitchMan M/f; F/m; fake-photos; revenge; tricked; bond; cuffs; susp; chains; gag; naked; photos; tease; toys; insert; denial; climax; cons/reluct; X|
|Entry in the Plaza Forum Story Contest 2016 - Winner|
Author's Note: I would like to thank those who helped proofread this work, and I especially appreciate Dannysuling (dannysuling.deviantart.com) and f-alexander (f-alexander.deviantart.com) for their valuable editorial contributions.
From 2002-2005, Courtney Artison’s image was unavoidable in any grocery check-out line. She was the undisputed queen of the tabloids. Virtually every gossip magazine published a photograph of her with some insane headline, like “Courtney Secretly Gives Birth to Triplets! Uses Body Double to Hide Weight Gain!” or “Courtney’s Mystery Illness and Her Deathbed Confession!”
Her sitcom’s ratings had never been higher, and her decision not to renew with the network gave her a blank check for her next project. Surprisingly, the demand for her talent didn’t interest her. If her plans had worked out, she would have married John Pittman, her movie star fiancé, settled down in her ocean-view mansion, and raised a cute little family. But sadly, the constant presence of photographers took a toll on Courtney and John’s relationship.
The beginning of the end came when an enterprising young photographer lowered himself down from Courtney’s roof onto the elevated deck in the back of her mansion. The glass doors separating the deck from the house provided an unobstructed view through an upstairs entertainment area all the way into her bedroom. The photographer made a fortune with an artistic shot that showed the silhouettes of Courtney and John making love in the background while capturing a pair of handcuffs on a table in the foreground. Even though the handcuffs were just a prop from John’s latest movie, the tabloids had a field day.
Within a week, the headlines read “C&J try S&M” and “Courtney Cuffs Cute Co-Star!” and the stars’ relationship was never the same. Pittman couldn’t handle the negative publicity, and he abruptly broke off their engagement. Eventually, he married one of his action movie co-stars, leaving Artison to deal with her heartbreak, her suddenly stalled career, and her stalking photographers.
Naturally, Courtney despised the paparazzi and the publishing industry. After her breakup, she began a public crusade to avenge herself and her fellow celebrities against the tawdry rags that had sullied the good names of so many. She filed dozens of lawsuits against photographers, writers, publishers, and website operators, demanding that they take down, retract, and/or apologize for the wrongs they had perpetuated.
Even with her career on hold, she had more than enough resources to fight and win her legal battles. A number of entertainment attorneys donated their time just to call her a client, and she won every case. Even so, she considered her success rather limited, since judges typically ordered the defendants to remove the offending stories and/or photographs from publication. On occasion, the defendants would be required to issue an apology, but the apologies often ended up at the back of the offending publications. One clever tabloid actually turned the tables on Artison, and made its court-ordered apology the subject of one of its own headlines in order to sell more magazines. Eventually, all of the losing tabloids followed suit, turning their legal failures into marketing successes.
Moreover, in the rare cases where damages were awarded, they were donated to charity, and the tabloids even took credit for that. So, Courtney was left with a simmering anger that the legal system was ill-equipped to resolve.
Perhaps the worst fallout from publication of that fateful handcuff photograph was the subsequent proliferation of so-called ‘bondage fakes’ — Photoshopped images of bondage. Usually, an image involved Artison’s head atop another model’s bound body, but occasionally an image was of Artison overseeing the bondage of some unfortunate male. It had been easy for Artison to track down and punish the people in the publishing industry, but it was nearly impossible to catch the Photoshop geeks who created the bondage fakes.
The phenomenon started slowly, but it steadily grew. Bondage fakes of Courtney ended up all over the Web and, years after the incident, more continued to be created. The practice began with simple photographs, but it spread to GIFs, memes, desktop backgrounds, manipulated videos, and fake movie posters. Just when Artison thought the fad had peaked, that damned Fifty Shades of Grey book came out, and then they made a movie!
Once again, the tabloids exploited Artison’s misfortune by suggesting she was up for the starring role. One tabloid even published a popular bondage fake on its cover with a two-paragraph article on the bondage fake phenomenon. The article, though small, allowed the tabloid to hide behind a ‘fair use’ defense, and Artison knew it.
Infuriated, Artison enlisted the help of renowned internet hacker, Allen ‘Minty’ Mintinez. Minty, a self-described Artison fanboy, agreed to track down the source of the offending manipulated photos. Courtney was impressed at how quickly she received Minty’s report with amazingly complete information. Seemingly out of thin air, he had provided a list of URLs with offending material, the originating IP addresses, names and email addresses associated with the IP addresses, and physical mailing addresses associated with the names. With Minty’s information, she could see to it that the creators of the most egregious ‘bondage fakes’ were confronted at their homes and offices.
During her review of offending material, one photo editor’s material seemed to be distributed far more often than the others. His name was Theodore Justman, but he called himself ‘The Manipulator.’ In addition to creating fake photographs of Artison in bondage, she learned that he was active in the BDSM community. She easily located his FetLife and DeviantArt profiles and learned all she could about him. With the help of a private investigator, she discovered that he lived in an expensive two-story house about twenty minutes from her own residence, just outside of Los Angeles.
To her surprise, he operated a successful, legitimate photography and photo editing business. Among other things, he created posters and advertisements for movie studios and distributors. For all she knew, she had actually met Justman at some movie premiere or awards show after-party. Regardless, with her industry connections, she knew that she could destroy him.
Since the Courts had never handed down what she considered justice, she decided to take matters into her own hands and personally destroy Justman’s career. She easily rationalized her vigilante justice: he deserved it, she figured, for misappropriating her likeness and making her life a living hell. Using a pseudonym, she created a FetLife profile, and over several weeks, she slow-played The Manipulator until she finally arranged to meet with him for a possible photo shoot.
Little did he know that she had no intention of allowing him to tie her up. Courtney’s personal trainer had often told her that she could incapacitate any attacker with the self-defense techniques that she knew. In fact, Artison had ‘choked out’ several classmates in simulated attacks during class. Without warning, she would take out The Manipulator, restrain him, and create her own portfolio of bondage photographs. Unlike his work, however, her photos would not be fakes. They would be raw and real, and he would be the unwitting model.
For her plan to work, she needed to change her appearance so that she was little more than a passable doppelganger of herself. In the week before her meeting with The Manipulator, she cut and colored her hair, and she refreshed her kickboxing and self-defense skills with her personal trainer. She focussed on self-defense techniques, like sleeper holds and striking an opponent’s vagus nerve, a nerve in the neck slightly below the ear.
On the day of the meeting, she rented a nondescript car. As Courtney drove through her victim's neighborhood , she became increasingly impressed by the upscale houses. Once she was within several blocks of Justman’s house, she removed the license plates, then placed her identification, mobile phone, and photography equipment in the trunk as a precaution. Once he was trussed up to her satisfaction, she would retrieve it to document his submission.
Her route culminated in a stop at The Manipulator’s front gate, where she was required to identify herself before being remotely allowed access. She provided her FetLife pseudonym, “Switch4Real.” She drove up the double-wide circular drive and parked near the front doors.
The house was a magnificent sculpture of frosted glass. Justman, The Manipulator, a fine looking young gentleman, opened the door for her and invited her inside.
“Welcome. Please come in,” her host said with an inviting demeanor.
Artison entered the house and was struck by the spacious layout and fine contemporary furnishings. A circular staircase with solid glass steps wound its way to the second level, which housed an office and studio. Although the studio was in the corner of the house, exposing it to two exterior walls, the frosted glass prevented any prying eyes from discerning any private activities, such as those Courtney and Mr. Justman had planned for the evening.
The Manipulator guided Courtney over to a sitting room where he had already placed a bottle of fine white wine on ice. Once he confirmed that she approved of the wine, he poured them both a glass, and they became acquainted. They each discussed their bondage preferences, and Courtney couldn’t help feeling as if he was studying every inch of her. Of course, she did the same to size up her eventual adversary.
They discussed the kinds of photos each of them were interested in, and they agreed to a ‘TF’ (trade for) shoot. They would shoot two scenes, and each of them would have the rights to the photographs from one of the scenes. Theodore quickly told her that he wanted to shoot a rope bondage scene. He asked her about her hard limits, and she said she didn’t have any. She wanted to appear as experienced as possible, and it didn’t really matter since she would be the dominant partner soon enough. So Courtney expressed an interest in shooting a leather bondage scene, and she playfully asked him if he had any hard limits.
“Why no. Come to think of it, I don’t,” he replied with a chuckle. “I am happy to play as rough as my partner.”
Courtney merely smiled and nodded politely.
Her host then led the way upstairs and gave her a brief tour of the office before showing her to the studio. Along one of the interior walls, there were a series of mirrored doors. Each door led into a walk-in closet. The first was filled with all manner of fetish clothing: predominantly leather, latex, neoprene, and silk, with the occasional animal print and librarian’s garb. The second contained every form of restraint imaginable: leather harnesses, straitjackets, ropes, tape, and steel stocks, among many others. There was also a section for accessories like gags, blindfolds, and nipple clips. In truth, Courtney couldn’t even figure out the intended use of some of the restraints and accessories. She made a mental note to do so once her prey was subdued.
As Courtney was moving from closet to closet discovering their contents, her host was lagging behind, collecting items for her to wear. She discovered that the last mirrored door led to a well-appointed changing room complete with dual showers, a Jacuzzi, expensive towels, and a makeup area that rivaled those of the movie studios. But as she turned to leave the changing room, she was startled by her host. He stood in the doorway, uncomfortably close to her, and he handed her a leather catsuit.
“We can do your preferred scene first. I believe that this is your size,” he said firmly but politely.
Courtney instinctively took the catsuit, turned away, and closed the door. Instead of blindly obeying her creepy host, however, she silently opened the door a crack to see what he was doing. He had his back to her, and he was obsessively laying out the restraints he had selected on a table along the opposite wall. Before placing each piece in its place on the table, he slowly and ritualistically inspected it.
Courtney knew this was her best opportunity. Staying outside of his peripheral vision, she silently approached him from behind, then attacked with an uncontrolled ferocity. She channelled all of her aggression into the self-defense techniques she had learned, and he was caught completely off guard. Just as she had in her kickboxing classes, she began to choke him into unconsciousness.
Justman dropped the few restraints that he had yet to place on the table, and he instinctively tried to pry her hands from his neck. He quickly realized that his fingers could not compete with her practiced choke-hold, and she felt his hands drift away from his neck. She redoubled her effort and continued to squeeze the life out of him when, without warning, she felt his elbow explode into her solar plexus!
Her world suddenly began to move in slow motion. She noticed his left hand covering his right fist, and she understood how he induced such heart-stopping pain. Her lungs were empty, a vacuum, and they no longer seemed to work. She pushed herself away from him, staggered, and tried desperately to inhale without success. As she doubled up waiting for the condition to pass, he grabbed a set of plastic zip-cuffs from a pouch hanging off the table. He swiftly and easily secured one of her wrists, but once Courtney realized what was happening, she fought like a trapped animal. With her breath slowly returning, she swung at him wildly with her free hand, but he easily dodged the blow.
Instead of settling for a defensive position, he lunged at her, tackling her to the ground along with a nearby photography lamp. Face down among shards of broken glass, he held fast to her zip-tied wrist, forcing his knee cruelly into the middle of her back. As she groaned in pain, she buried her free hand beneath her and tried in vain to roll over. With double her weight and his superior position, Justman immediately and painfully twisted her bound wrist high behind her back.
“It will be a lot easier if you just give me your other wrist,” he said impassively, almost inaudibly over her agonizing scream.
“You know I am going to get it eventually,” he said confidently, convincing her to give up the cause.
Slowly, reluctantly, Courtney relinquished her free wrist, placing it behind her back. As promised, he relaxed the tension on her zip-tied wrist, and lowered it down her back far enough to capture its twin.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked as he helped her to her feet,
“I just thought I might spice up our scene with some nonconsensual bondage,” she said, trying to feign innocence.
“Well, then, I expect that we will both enjoy this scene. I am in the dominant role that I prefer, and your bondage is surely non-consensual.”
“You bastard!” Courtney hissed. “Let me go this instant!”
“Wow! That, coming from the confident woman with no limits?”
She twisted wildly to escape his grip, but he held her easily with one hand. Meanwhile, Justman’s other hand began to reach for the restraints he had previously laid out on the table. Courtney knew she needed to get free before this went any further. Since she was no match for his strength, especially with her wrists welded together behind her back, she used the first thing that came to mind — her mouth.
“Let me go, or I’ll scream so loud your neighbors will call the police,” she threatened.
He finished taking a restraint from the table, and he turned her so that they were face to face.
“You realize that in my line of work I would have thought about that, right?” he asked, as he smiled and raised his eyebrows. “The house is completely sound-proof.”
Courtney smiled back timidly.
“But just in case…” he continued, as he deftly jammed a spongy ball gag into her mouth and began bucking it tightly behind her head.
The leather strap of the gag cut cruelly into the sides of her mouth. The sponge-rubber ball was surprisingly easy on her jaw, but it completely filled her mouth whether she closed her lips tight or opened them as wide as possible. It was also incredibly effective at absorbing any sound that she could muster. It didn’t completely silence her, but the volume of a full-throated scream was reduced to the level of everyday conversation.
Courtney quickly discovered why he called himself ‘The Manipulator.’ It wasn’t so much because of his Photoshop skills, but because of his bondage prowess. While she continued to test her bonds, he tapped on his smartphone and lowered various chains from the ceiling.
Before she knew it, he had stripped off her clothes, and replaced the zip-ties with leather suspension cuffs. It all happened so fast that she couldn’t even explain how he did it. She quickly found her wrists clipped to the overhead chains, and, with a few more taps on his smartphone, she was stretched to her limit.
To her surprise, the flash lamps temporarily blinded her, and she heard the telltale sound of a camera capturing several frames. As her eyes readjusted, he added leather cuffs to her ankles and secured them to attachment points in the floor. Another flash captured her futility, and in a matter of a few short minutes she was on full display, unable to resist anything he might decide to do to her.
Next, in almost a single motion, and while she was still examining her situation, Justman encased his captive’s neck in a strict posture collar and connected it to another chain that hung from the ceiling. He was very good, Courtney realized, as another flash memorialized her enslavement.
She was helplessly at his disposal, and they both knew it.
Only now, after she was no longer resisting, did she consider the enormity of her predicament. She was now just his toy. Worse yet, the inevitable publication of the photographs he was capturing would force her to relive her subjugation long after she was physically unfettered.
To her dismay, she felt a tingle growing between her legs, and noticed that he seemed to sense it. Justman bent down to pick up the restraints that he had dropped during their scuffle. She tried to turn to see what they were, but her body merely dangled from the ceiling. She tried to use the reflection from the closet doors to make out what he held, but his body blocked her view. Her imagination of what was to come both thrilled and frightened her.
What else could he possibly do to her? He had her completely trussed up from her ankles to her mouth. The only movement she could manage was to wiggle her hips.
She heard him moving about behind her. She concentrated on the sounds he was making, and they seemed like rustling and maybe opening or closing a jar.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Courtney Artison?” he asked as he worked.
Courtney was stunned. Her entire body tensed up momentarily, but she shook herself back to reality. She twisted her head in an exaggerated fashion and voiced an extremely muffled “No” through her ball gag.
“Well, you do,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And you’ll look even more like her in this wig,” he announced, as he placed a wig onto her head from behind, hiding her freshly cut hair.
She could see in the mirrored doors across the room that she now looked exactly as she had before her haircut — except that now, of course, she was wearing nothing but leather restraints. The sight heightened her tingling sensation, and she began to feel moist. She tried to close her legs, but they were no longer hers to control. They remained spread for whatever was to come. Suddenly, Courtney’s body temperature seemed to be increasing, and she found herself trembling involuntarily.
Goddammit! she thought. He had turned her into a trembling sex object… and she was enjoying it! What had he done? She was a star. She was Courtney Artison! The more she thought about her own degradation, the more turned on she became. Then, another flash interrupted her lament.
She tried to reconcile her situation with her emotions of anger, defiance, resignation, and defeat. Suddenly, though, Courtney was shocked back to the moment when Justman slipped his finger into her and began to firmly massage her moist vagina. The muscles in her legs and arms quickly became tense and well-defined. She struggled uselessly against her restraints, screaming into her gag in protest, but deep within she wanted him to continue. She wanted him to do whatever he wanted to her—she was his to control!
Courtney involuntarily thrust her hips in time against the pressure of his fingers — first one, then two, then three. Just as she began to shudder in climax, though, he slipped a dildo into her lubricated passage. The dildo was attached to a leather body-harness that he expertly wrapped and secured around her torso, and she could do nothing to stop him. She was physically, emotionally, and sexually helpless to stop what was happening to her.
This was not the way her evening was supposed to turn out, but from a shadowy corner of Courtney’s mind a voice screamed out that it couldn’t have been better! As he silently covered her eyes with a leather blindfold, she realized that it no longer mattered… her eyes had been closed for several minutes anyway. She continued to hear the camera, over her increased breathing, as it intermittently documented her plight.
Just as her sex began to adjust to the intruder, she felt the dildo begin to vibrate. It was enough to keep her stimulated, but not enough to push her over the edge. After a few minutes of exquisite torture, Theodore gently his hands on Courtney’s hips from behind. He slowly ran his hands up and around her breasts. He fondled her hardening nipples and ran circles around her areolas before returning his hands to her hips. His audacity, his taking advantage of her with impunity, infuriated Courtney, and yet she was disappointed that he had moved away so soon. She longed to feel his hands taking her vulnerable, unprotected breasts by the handful.
Then, quietly, she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
“I know your secret,” he whispered as he kissed the back of her neck.
Her heart fluttered and her body twitched. She managed to shake her head feebly.
“Oh yes… yes I do. You don’t just look like Courtney Artison… you are Courtney Artison.”
She trembled with panic, and he increased the vibration of the dildo. She could feel her juices begin to drip down her thigh, and it excited her even more. She forced herself to shake her head more forcefully, now. She couldn’t let on who she was. Her captor thoughtfully turned the vibrator up yet another level, and Courtney’s knees began to give out. Of course, it made no difference as she hung by her wrists, partially supported by his firm grasp at her waist.
“I’m sure that you figured out that I am your biggest fan… or at least the person who has honored you with the most bondage fakes,” he admitted.
“I’m also sure that had something to do with your failed attack,” he continued.
Courtney shook her head even more violently, but she couldn’t tell if it was in response to his revelation or the intruder’s rumbling activity between her legs. She could now feel his breath in her left ear, and she almost passed out. Beads of sweat covered her body, and she was certain that the vibrator was cycling even faster.
“I have manipulated so many photographs of you… thousands of photographs of you… and in every shot of your left profile, I’ve admired this lovely little birthmark just below your left ear,” he whispered. And suddenly, yet sensually, Theodore kissed her birthmark, and Courtney screamed into her gag, tearing at the unyielding straps that held her wrists and kicking with her cuffed ankles, resulting in a feeble, almost imperceptible movement of her feet.
Her sex exploded. Her body began to spasm, and she began to see flashes of light even though her blindfold completely blocked her vision.
And then, as though from another room, Courtney heard The Manipulator speaking to her once again.
“I think this session has to be over for me, but you can continue to enjoy it for a while,” he said, tapping several times on his smartphone.
“I have a new bondage fake to create and upload,” he said under his breath.
Courtney felt him Justman walk away, and she heard the camera make noises that she hadn’t heard before. But she couldn’t think about that now. She was too exhausted and distracted.
Defeated, but enjoying her satisfaction, she hung from her wrists, and the vibrator continued to taunt her. She could feel another wave building in the distance. She knew, though, that all she could do was wait and brace herself, until it came crashing down upon her.
Within seconds, the camera beeped to confirm that the session photographs had been successfully uploaded to The Manipulator's secure, off-site server. While Courtney was stuck floating ephemerally between heaven and hell, Theodore quickly reviewed the photo set from the session, then selected and edited the image that he thought best captured the essence of the evening. Theodore couldn’t help but smile as he worked, but he worked quickly for Courtney’s sake. He knew that the evening had been hard on her, and he didn’t want to leave her at the mercy of her own desires too much longer. He could hear her muffled screams of pleasure growing in intensity behind him, and he estimated she had one more orgasm in her before it would prove to be too much.
As his alter ego, The Manipulator, Theodore uploaded his newest creation to FetLife, DeviantArt, and several other sites under the title, “Real Fake” before he turned his attention back to Courtney. Once the image became available to the public, there would be nothing anyone could do to ‘unpublish’ it.
Despite the research he had compiled on Courtney over the last five years, it was impossible for Justman to predict her reaction to tonight’s events. Regardless, now that the potential damage was done, he took extra care to make sure that she felt comfortable, safe, and even loved. He carefully helped her out of her predicament, removed her restraints and gag, and — to his surprise — she thanked him. He covered her with a luxurious robe and carried her in his arms to the changing area, where he had prepared a warm bath. He massaged her shoulders as she bathed, and he kept her wine glass filled with his best white wine.
As Courtney began to recover from the evening’s events, Theodore reminded her that they had agreed to two scenes, and she scowled at him silently. Then, although it was against his better judgment, he offered to switch places if it would make her feel better. He felt like he owed it to her if she was up to it.
Courtney sat up in her bath, and her scowl slowly became an evil smile.
In the year following that night of Courtney’s failed attack, the Manipulator’s “Real Fake” photograph proved to be a complete disappointment to his fans. It was such an embarrassment that it ended his underground career. His detractors ridiculed him for boasting that the photograph was “real,” when any fool could see that it was an amateurish fake at best. His fans’ critiques of his work pointed out dozens of issues that were conclusive evidence that the photograph was fake: pixelation, missing or illogical shadows, and graphic remnants were the issues most often cited. One particularly insightful critique pointed out that the mole behind Artison’s left ear was missing.
The photograph was so poorly executed, in fact, that it gave Courtney Artison a credible platform to denounce the entire ‘bondage fake’ phenomenon. In a press release following the photograph’s publication, Artison’s agent stressed that her client would never be involved with a project having such poor quality. Shortly following that press release, Artison announced that she had signed on to a project that would show her fans the kind of quality that was possible in the fantasy distress genre.
The project, a film entitled “Dominated,” starred Artison as a dominatrix kidnapped by a client, and it turned out to be a critical success. Artison was up for “Best Actress,” and the film’s director, Theo Justman, was nominated for “Best Director.” Of course, that film became the anchor for a franchise of several more bondage-themed movies.
So Courtney was back on the tabloid covers again, but this time she didn’t mind. Her career was hotter than ever. Her favorite cover was the Academy Awards issue of Hollywood Vision magazine. The red carpet photographer caught her with her new beau, showing off her wedding ring, and the caption read “Courtney and Theo Tie the Knot!” In the lower right corner was a smaller inset publicity still from Courtney’s latest movie, over the caption “Is Courtney Just a Bondage Fake?”
You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum
|If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!|