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In the near future, a grim reality awaited those convicted of crimes deemed worthy of the ultimate punishment. In this dystopian tale, inmates found themselves transformed into jesters, their lives forever chained, both figuratively and literally. Forced to live as permanent clowns, they were condemned to wander the halls of a prison, their voices silenced, their every movement imbued with a twisted sense of amusement. Visitors were occasionally permitted inside the prison walls, and it was then that the jester inmates were compelled to perform ridiculous shows, entertaining the onlookers with their forced jests. Among the countless inmates sentenced to this bizarre existence was a young woman by the name of Lily. The day of her arrival at the jester prison was a moment forever etched in her memory. As the towering, iron-clad gates swung open, she stepped hesitantly into a realm she had never imagined. The air was heavy with a lingering sense of despair, the very aura of the prison seemingly suffocating. Lily was led through a labyrinthine maze of arched hallways, her footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. The occasional distant laughter only served to intensify the gravity of her situation. Eventually, she found herself in a dimly lit chamber, where a row of jester costumes adorned the walls. Her heart pounding, Lily approached the table in the center of the room, where a pair of somber prison guards stood solemnly. They handed her a vividly striped outfit, its colors appearing almost garish against the bleak backdrop of the prison. She unfolded the costume, and to her astonishment, she discovered that every piece of clothing was intricately adorned with tiny bells. Like a discordant symphony, these bells would jingle with each step she took, an audible reminder both to herself and others of her new existence as a jester. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, Lily began to undress. She carefully removed her ordinary attire, relinquishing them to a forgotten past. As she donned the striped vest and pants, it felt as though she was putting on a persona rather than a mere costume. In that singular moment, Lily transformed from a person into a representation of mockery, forever confined to the role of the fool. Next came the oversized, floppy shoes. Each shoe was comically enormous, making it near impossible to walk with grace or dignity. The discomfort of the ill-fitting footwear only served to amplify Lily's sense of powerlessness. Lastly, she reached for the iconic clown wig, vibrant and unruly, a crown of absurdity. As she adjusted the wig upon her head, she caught her reflection in a cracked mirror. The once familiar face gazed back at her, now distorted by exaggerated makeup and a painted-on smile which concealed her inner turmoil. Dressed in her jester uniform, Lily took her first hesitant steps into the prison's central courtyard. The jingling of her costume's bells seemed to reverberate throughout the desolate space, filling the air with an eerie soundtrack to her sorrow. For the remainder of that day, and every day thereafter, Lily's existence became a monotonous routine. She walked the prison's halls, her chains dragging at her ankles, her voice forever suppressed. Her days melded together, each one more indistinguishable than the last. When visitors were allowed into the prison, Lily would be shuffled onto a makeshift stage, forced to perform clownish antics for their fleeting amusement. With every exaggerated stumble, every ridiculous gesture, she begrudgingly obliged, her self-worth fading further into the shadows. In the solitude of her cell, Lily would often imagine a different world, a world where chains did not bind her and ridicule did not define her. A world where she could exist as nothing more than herself, free to express her thoughts and dreams without being trapped in the perpetual mockery of a jester's existence. But in the jester prison, such dreams were nothing more than a desperate flicker in the darkness, for Lily and countless others like her were destined never to escape the irony of their fate. The jingling of bells would forever echo, a constant reminder of their transformation into permanent clowns, bound by invisible chains that would follow them to their grave.

The Kindness of Neighbors Part 7 Part 7, David spends another evening under his dominant sister's thumb… and toes. CW:Femdom, Forced Feminization, Sisterdom, light Momdom, Chastity, Humiliation and Maid Work. I stood up and walked over to Jenna where she stood in my doorway. I should clarify (and maybe this is obvious), we are fraternal twins, not identical. She was quite a bit shorter than me. But the dominant smirk she wore on her face made me feel 1 inch tall compared to her. She reached into her bag and pulled out a lacy yellow pair of panties. "Go put these on in the bathroom. Then come back here." I nodded and was reminded of my sister's joy of humiliation as I replied. "Yes, Princess Jenna." My eyes grew wide as my voice was still low and sultry. I realized that Kathy had (probably intentionally) failed to tell me to stop using that voice! Jenna almost fell over laughing as I blushed and rushed to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and stripped off my pants and boxer briefs. I froze in horror when I did. Kathy had also not removed my chastity cage! When I slid the panties on, my manhood was still compressed and out of sight, leaving me looking smooth down there! I realized that a program might make me ignore the discomfort! Panicking, I slid my pants back on, put my boxer briefs in my pocket and returned to my bedroom where I saw Jenna doing something by my dresser. She looked up and noticed me. "Come here, I have something to show you." I walked over and saw that she was at my underwear drawer. I was shocked by what I saw! The drawer was filled to the brim with panties in all colors and styles. There was everything from soft microfiber panties to skimpy g-strings. I looked at her in shock and found her grinning back at me. "Come on, slave. I'll explain." With that, she closed my drawer, turned on her heels and walked to her room, with her subservient slave in tow. When we entered her room, she closed the door behind us, sat on the edge of her bed, snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor in front of her. Without another word, I knelt in front of her. She smirked down at me, clearly enjoying every second of this. "So you're probably wondering about the panties. Well, Kathy was texting me today and told me all about your session today." A cold chill of dread ran down my back. She knew about my humiliating day of objectification and humiliation? Jenna smiled, nodded and continued. "That's right, she told me all about what you said in today's session. How you don't respect women, how you hold deep resentment toward us and how you fantasize about dominating and abusing us." I breathed a sigh of relief. At least she didn't know EVERYTHING. I looked up at Jenna and was surprised to see sympathy, understanding and caring. "She… she said that it was rooted in dad leaving us and never knowing him. David, dad hurt all of us when he left. I grew up without him too. I feel the same pain you do. You know that right?" I was stunned. Was this a real conversation happening?! She called me 'David' and was speaking from the heart. Was this a sign that she was softening to my plight? Had Kathy made a misstep by bringing dad into this? I nodded to Jenna, letting her know that I understood. Jenna took a deep breath and her face returned to its dominant expression. "Good, then you'll understand what I'm about to say. It's not fair to blame mom and me for his leaving. You are punishing us and all women for what a man did, and that ends here! Kathy says that getting you in touch with your feminine side will help you work past this deep set hatred you have and she insists that the more degrading this is, the more helpful it will be for you." And there it was. Kathy hadn't made a mistake, she had made sure that new torturous punishments and treatment could 'ethically' be introduced at home. And as far as she knew, Jenna could now let loose and think that she was helping her brother. I could have killed Kathy in that moment, but even that thought sent a painful jab straight through my brain. "So to help you, Kathy used CashApp earlier to send me money to buy you panties." She started cackling as she continued. "Because it's probably pretty hard to try and act like some big, tough, strong man when your in frilly little girl panties!" When she finished, she fell over laughing at the absurdity of the idea. I could only kneel and take it until she finished. "So, let's help you get more in touch with your girly side. You'll give me a manny/peddy with French tips. Oh wait." She grabbed her phone and scrolled through some text messages. "Kathy said to tell you 'Make my nails perfect and make them FRENCH.'" That was the trigger word. I looked on her bed and saw that she had all of her nail polishing supplies ready. My body took the supplied and got started. I spent an hour, bent over and painstakingly painting each nail to perfection. My hands and back got sore from the posture, but my brain prod wouldn't let me stop until each nail was perfect. After I was done, Jenna looked like she had more for me to do, but we heard mom coming up the stairs calling my name. Jenna rolled her eyes in annoyance and looked at me. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be selfish with the household slave. Go. But stop using that stupid voice. Kathy said mom doesn't know everything and that's probably for the best. She said, "If you don't respond well to my order to check your phone." I took out my phone and saw I did have a text from Kathy. Kathy: Your sister said she enjoyed your voice, but speak normally to your mother. She doesn't need to know what's going on yet. Give me time, one day you'll be an obedient little sissy slave both at my house and your mother's. I promise you that. I groaned as I left Jenna's room and found mom at the top of the stairs. She looked a little annoyed with me. "David, I really appreciate the changes you're making and I'm very happy with your progress, but you are not living up to your new commitments. The laundry is piling up in the laundry room and that was something you said you would handle." I felt a sharp pain in my head, my punishment for failing in my duties. "I'm so sorry mom. I have no excuse. I'll get started on it right away." Mom raised an eyebrow. "Yes you will, but you owe me something first. Come with me." I followed mom to the living room and sat next to her on the couch. "My feet are so sore. Rub them for me and tell me how your session went today." With that, mom kicked off her shoes and put her stockinged feet on my lap. I spent about 20 minutes rubbing her feet and regurgitating the cover story that was implanted in my mind. As I spoke, mom's attitude toward me changed, becoming less annoyed and more understanding. "Oh David. I always suspected that your dad leaving had some effect, but you never wanted to talk to me about it. I'm so sorry that you feel so hurt that you strike out against others. But Kathy is right, you have to stop punishing others for your pain. Does that make sense?" I nodded my head. "Yes mom. I'm so sorry for taking my anger out on you and all women. I realize now that my male hormones and affinity towards violence led me down this destructive path. I hope that my chores and service will help me get a new, more constructive perspective." I gritted my teeth at the words I was saying. Forcing me to blame my male hormones would just sink in the fact that I would be better off as a sissy! Darn that woman! I endured another punishing mental jab for that sentiment. Mom was smiling at me. "Wow, Kathy is really helping you get a new perspective! Well, my feet and mind feel much better. Get the laundry done before you go to bed okay?" I nodded, knowing that the laundry would probably only take me about an hour and a half. I got to the laundry room and found a modest stack of laundry. I got to work, but was heavily guided by my mental prod. First of all, I found that I needed to separate panties from the rest of the clothes. As I started a load of darks, I carried the panties to the sink and to my chagrin, I started hand washing them all. As I did the laundry, I found that there were new thorough practices that must have been part of my new chore programming. I hand washed the panties and stockings, made sure that the washer and dryer setting were uniquely set for each individual load and after the dryer, I found myself ironing each individual piece of clothing. It took me hours of slaving over each individual garment and sorting the clothes into different laundry baskets. By the time I carried the baskets and set mom's clothes by her door and Jenna's clothes by hers, it was well after midnight. I dragged myself into bed, physically exhausted from the non-stop chores and mentally exhausted from the torture, humiliation and mental discipline I had suffered throughout the day. As I laid down, I wondered how I could possibly go on another day, but then I saw Kathy's sadistic smile in my minds eye and heard her voice in my head, answering my miserable thoughts. "You'll go on because I own you, and I say so." To be continued…

London was a familiar city for Hannah Knight, it was where she grew up and lived most of her life after all. Of course, now that she lived in the US, things had certainly seemed to change whenever she flew back to visit her friend's and family. The place that always showed the biggest change though, was her older sister's business, Dress 2 Impress. Which was, as it so happened, where our intrepid librarian found herself today. The shop itself had been open for a long time now, it must have been approaching half a decade-Louise Knight, Hannah's sister had opened it alongside University friends Sarah and Mary not long after they graduated. Looking up at the exterior of the building, Hannah was both fascinated and impressed by just how large it had grown. This place used to be the size of a broom closet in comparison, now they even had multiple floors, even if it was still a bit cramped! Words simply couldn't state just how proud Hannah was of her big sister. It was as if Louise had

=======A Tutorial We’ve all run into the situation where we want a character to speak while gagged, but what do you write? You can put your hand over your own mouth, speak the lines and try to mimic it in print, but when faced with the task it’s not that simple. Good gag speak can help paint a more vivid picture of a captive's distress more vividly and make us feel that gag empathetically and viscerally, if there were just some rules to follow (and break). I am no expert, but over decades of DiD writing I have been evolving a set of guidelines in my head of how to convert normal speech into sets of letters that portray a character with gag hampered speech. These guidelines were first based on observation of other people’s writing, then an analysis based on what I have been able to learn and observe about sound and speech articulation. Only recently have I boiled these down to a set of written guidelines. Styles of my own writing are biased of course, but take, ignore, or break the

A Prison of My Own Making A short story about a husband who regrets encouraging his wife to embrace her darker side. CW: Femdom, Brainwashing, Bondage, Latex, Non-Con and Manipulation. Marital bliss, the goal of marriage pushed on us by Hallmark, Valentines Day and animated movies about princesses who talk to animals. It's the unobtainable paradigm that so many have lost their minds trying to find. Don't get me wrong, marriage has been a rewarding and enriching experience, but anyone who tells you it ends with a 'happily ever after' is trying to sell you an overpriced necklace, a box of chocolates or a movie ticket.  My name is Jerry and I'm married to my beautiful wife Allison. Okay, she's no supermodel, but her slender frame, wide hips and dimpled smile were enough to melt my heart. We met working at a retail job in our mid 20's and hit it off right away. We had common interests and shared a mutual attraction. I am no Adonis myself. I'm 6 feet tall, have a chubby build and not

It was a normal summer day in the Apex eSports gaming house. Rachel, Alice and Chloe were relaxing in the training room, playing a game not related to their job. The three girls were dressing the team's uniform, because it was their training period. The uniform was composed by a black shirt with the team logo and black striped shorts. The girl's training room was nicely decorated. Had many computers. The five used by the girls and two more for the coach and the assistant-coach. Also, there was a monitor above the computer Alice used. On it, whoever was watching, could see the game by the team leader's view, which helped understand what was going on. The floor was made in wooden tacos on a concrete surface. Nicolle, the organization owner and CEO, had chosen wooden tacos for the room‘s floor. Drawings were on the wall, and a art featuring Nicolle as a game character decorated one of the room's walls. The same art was in the main team's training room. The desks were all made in wood