воскресенье, 10 мая 2015 г.

The Beginning
As all of you know, just dressing is never enough. So as a TV, I would dress up to the best of my ability and head out. Most of my trips were just to ride in the car. I would head for a bar or someplace that I would feel safe but would “chicken out” when I got there.
After several years of this, I got up enough courage to go to a local park, at night, and finally got out of the car. I walked for ten minutes than returned to the safety of my car. Sitting in the car, shaking from the excitement and the thrill of what I had done, it was great!
With this first hurdle conquered, I would go at least once a week to the park and walk. I was so free, walking in my heels and dress, feeling every bit the woman I fantasized I was. I used every outfit that I owned.
After the first year, I wanted more! Much more! Again I would head to the bar, chicken out, than head to the park and walk. After several attempts, I went to the park first, walked than headed to the bar. When I arrived, I was much calmer, parked the car, and walked in. I went straight to the bar and in the most feminine voice I could muster, ordered a Vodka and tonic. After two drinks, I calmed down and looked around. No one was paying any attention to me. The bar advertised a show that had male entertainers that looked female. Thirty minutes and the show began. The “girls ” were great ! I nursed the third drink the rest of the night, went home, and felt Fabulous !!
I now had two places to go Dressed, I started to dress more often, twice a week. Life was good and I could not have been feeling better. My dressing was getting expensive, but the feeling of freedom and femininity were worth it. The makeup was getting better as my experience grew. With practice my mannerisms were being honed to the feminine side and life was good.
Several months later, while at the bar, a man bought me a drink, this made me quite nervous, I was not sure how to handle it. Fortunately, he walked over and told me how great I looked, and wished more TV’s would come and see the show. That was the end of it.
Each time I went, if he was there, he would buy me a drink, not even talking, just send the drink over to my table. I also met several other TV’s during this time. Our friendship was at the bar and really talked about clothing, the entertainers and how great it was to have a place to go.

Life Changes
Six months later, I was at a table, the bar was quite full due to some new entertainer. A drink showed up, I looked around and sure enough, he raised his glass, I raised mine, end of story. Not quite. After the first show, He showed up at the table with two drinks in his hand and asked if he could sit due to the place being so crowded. I said, Sure. He talked about my outfit and how good it looked on me. He complemented me on how well I did my dressing and actions. I, unfortunately, was not paying attention to how much I was drinking. He asked what I did for a job and I answered vaguely.
At the end of the second show, I said it was time for me to go. He extended his hand and thanked me for the company. I tried to get up but as I stood, the room turned. I tried to shake the cobwebs out, without luck. The next thing I knew he was helping me out the door to my car. He opened the door and set me behind the wheel with a warning not to drive until I could see straighter. He started to walk away than returned. He suggested I was in no condition to drive and it was not safe to just sit there. He told me to slide over and he would drive me home. I moved over, that was the last I remembered.
I started waking slowly, feeling like I had way too much to drink. Nothing was working right. I couldn’t even move my arms. I sat up by pushing on my hands. I was partially dressed, blouse, bra , garter belt, stockings and my heels.
I did not recognize the room I was in and realized my hands were tied behind my back. I was really scared ! The door to the room started to open and in walked the guy from the bar. He said good morning and asked how I was. I didn’t answer but gave him a very dirty look! He looked at me and said I should be more polite considering the position I was in He than said that he had decided to make me his “Woman”. I shook my head NO thinking he was crazy. He had a smirk on his face and said I should slow down and listen to him, or else!
I spun my legs over the edge of the couch I was sitting on and was about to get up when he said to sit still Daniel. This took me back, he knew my name and he noticed my hesitation , laughed a little chuckle than pulled up a chair at the end of the couch. He told me to just listen! He was about to tell me how it was going to be from now on. He also commented that giving him dirty looks was not going to help my situation.
He got up went to the counter and came back with my wallet in his hand. I always kept it under the seat just in case I was ever stopped. He than proceded to tell me that he had all of my information and he even called where I worked to tell them that I was sick today. He knew where I lived and if I did not do as he said he would call everyone he could find and e-mail the pictures he took last night, and wouldn’t that be cute, trying to explain my actions and how I was dressed and what I had done last night. I told him I had done nothing last night except pass out. He reached into his pocket and took some paper out. He put them down so I could see them.
I was horrified and crushed. I said I did not remember Sucking him or doing anything like that, referring to the pictures. I went on that I was not gay, I liked women, not guys. He told me to be quiet. He said he had posed me for the pictures while I was out. Except for my eyes closed, no one could tell. I asked what he wanted? He said these were only samples of probably 100 shots he took last night. He said the ones where I was getting laid were even better. He inquired how my back end was feeling, It was sore all over, and I told him. Proceeding, he said it wasn’t only from the rape but also he had injected me with some hormones to calm me down for the future.
He explained what he wanted me to do, how often and when. He told me where I was going to dress and informed me that as he decided I would purchase clothing he wanted me to wear and where I would wear it. He also informed me that from now on I could consider myself his slave.
He grabbed me by my arm and put me face down on the coffee table He than tied my legs to the legs of the table and taped my mouth.
He said he was going to untie my hands and I was not to fight him or else!
He pulled my blouse off and retied my hands to the other end of the table. I knew what he was going to do, again! Taking off his pants, with a lear on his face, he got behind me, put something cold on my butt hole than inserted his dick . Slowly he pushed and the pain was to much. I must have passed out.
When I woke up I was on the bed. He was looking at me. It was dark out from what I could see through the window. I was tied again and still had the tape on my mouth. He had put my blouse back on
He said that he was going to release me and I should get dressed and go home. He would call me and also email me with instructions and a few more pictures. None of this needs to change my life as long as when I am with him I do as I am told, nothing in the rest of my life will change. I was NOT to dress unless I was with him or got his approval. He asked if I understood? I nodded yes. He untied my hands and legs ,than walked out. I moved quite slow and dressed. I left the room and went down to where he said my car was parked, found it and drove home.
the new day
I was in a total fog on my ride home from the Motel. None of what happened was what I had wanted. I was really enjoying my freedom as the TV I wanted to be. Living in a fantasy of my own making. It was wonderful!!
And now this, sore all over, having been raped and violated by someone I did not know. All my identity taken so I have no privacy. And being told that I was someone’s slave? Than to make matters worse he said he had injected me with hormones! What was going to happen?
All of these thoughts were going through my head as I pulled into the garage. I gathered my purse and everything else from my car and entered the house. I went directly to my bedroom. Undressed than took a shower. It felt good to have the hot water cleansing me. I left the shower, dried off and got into my male robe. I went to the kitchen and made coffee, lit a cigarette and sat at the table. With the coffee made I downed the first cup than made a second. I checked the clock and saw it was only 9:30. I was out of steam and decided to hit the sack early.
I entered my bedroom and gathered all the female clothing and took it to the spare bedroom, putting it away as I went. This whole thing felt like a bad dream. On the way back to my room I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a aspirin, hoping it would help me get some rest. I opened the drawer and removed the aspirin, taking two and returning the bottle. As I reached for the glass I saw a pill bottle that wasn’t there yesterday. There was a note under it . I picked up the bottle and the note.
Reading the bottle it said premarin, I knew what that was, so I read the note.
Dearest Danielle,
I stopped by earlier while you were at the motel. Please take one of these pills every night before you go to bed. I will be able to tell if you did or did not. Talk to you in the morning. 
Love,
Richard
So that was his name, the Bastard. I thought to myself, he can go to hell! As I was putting the bottle down I began to have second thoughts, If he could really tell than I should take one until I figured out what I was going to do. I took the pill and brushed my teeth. I headed straight to bed.
The alarm rang as soon as I hit the pillow, or so it seemed. I got up and walked to the kitchen. I made coffee and lit a cigarette. After the third cup of coffee, the phone rang. Not thinking I answered it. The voice said hello, this is Richard. I almost broke out in a cold sweat. I asked what he wanted in a not to friendly voice. He told me to cut the attitude or so help me he would e-mail everyone on my address book ALL the pictures he had taken. He told me to address him as Sir. I thought for a minute and said yes sir. He than told me he had removed my underwear and because I was buying him lunch , he wanted me to wear my panties, black pantyhose and a girdle under my street clothes. I was so upset, I almost told him to go to hell, almost. He than said I was good for not answering him back. Than he told me to shave my legs and crotch and it had better be a close shave.
He than said, Listen, we all have fantasies, you, me, everyone. What I am doing will fulfill my fantasy and hopefully some of yours. You will do as I tell you and if you are smart, you can have some fun with it. If not you will do it for me or I can really louse up your life, so the decision is yours, enjoy or be miserable!
Now, get ready as instructed and go to work. At noon, meet me at the char pit on Smith St. and we can talk. He than hung up, leaving me in a real quandary. I really had no choice at the minute but hopefully I can figure a way out of this. In the meantime I better go along and do as he says.
I went to the shower and started shaving. I had done this once before at the start of a vacation and in the two weeks I had, most of my hair had grown back, so I shaved. After I finished ,I went to the spare room and going thru my things retrieved the black opaque pantyhose white panties and the white panty girdle. I removed the garters from the girdle than put the rest back where it belonged.
As I dressed the silken panties felt great on my now nude skin. I than put the pantyhose on and this also felt great on my legs. I slid the girdle up my legs and set it in place. This was going to be difficult if I had to go to the bathroom and hard to work in, with the erotic feelings I was having. I than finished dressing in my usual shirt, tie sport coat and black slacks, somewhat of a uniform I had adopted over the years.
I drove to work, entering and proceeding to my desk. I did feel that everyone knew what was under my clothing. I started my computer and started to enter the data from last week. At mid morning I went to the bathroom and used the stall. It seemed to take forever to undo everything. Than to reposition it again. I fixed a cup of coffee and returned to my area.
I decided to check my e-mail, most of it was inter company except for 1. I checked who was looking, than opened it . It was from Richard, just letting me know he had my address. I than opened the attachment, it was another of those damn pictures. I suppose, just to remind me. I quickly deleted the attachment and the email. Than emptied the delete files.
I answered the rest of the emails and went back to work. Accounting was not the most exciting line of work but it paid well. With a math major I suppose I could have gone into other lines of work but this was the easiest.
Before I knew it, lunchtime had arrived. I headed to the lot and drove out. I was very apprehensive about this meeting, but could not stop myself from going. I parked the car and entered. He was waiting at the door , I followed him and the waitress to a booth than sat down.
He said as soon as the waitress left , that he was glad I came. I asked if he thought I had any choice in the matter. With that He just smiled. I than asked what he really wanted. He said we should order than we would talk. When the waitress returned we ordered. The lunch showed up pretty quick and we started to eat. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small plastic case with glass inside. He asked for my hand ,which I reluctantly gave , He opened the case cleaned my finger than pricked it with a needle he had in the case. I asked what the hell he was doing? He told me to be patient and he would explain. He than put the blood drops on the glass slides and returned everything to the case. He told me to put a bandage on the spot, which he gave me.
He than said we should talk, he really meant that he was going to tell me. He said he owned several small labs that dealt in microbiology. Blood tests for doctors were just one of the things he did. He was going to sample my blood to check the hormone levels and several other tests. The good news was I would know exactly how healthy I am. Now I want you to know what it is I expect of you.
First, I hope you will enjoy what we are about to begin. I have had the idea for quite a while and when I first noticed you I thought I could do this. I followed you home and checked you out. You are exactly what I wanted; Hetro, intelligent, TV, no deep relationships, and you earn a good living with a compatible job for our adventure. Now I want you to get ALL of your stuff for your hobby and bring it to my place tonight. He handed a slip of paper with his address on it , Continuing, I want you to come dressed, sharp but not slutty. If you have any ideas of getting out of this ,let me warn you, The pictures the tapes and all the information I have on you is in a safe place and it will all come out if anything happens to me. For tonight, be there at nine.
Now , did you do as I requested ? Yes, I replied. Well, I want to check. Lets get out of here. He handed me the bill ,I left the money on the table and we exited. He told me to follow him to his car, which I did. He opened the rear door and I got in. He got into the drivers seat told me to drop my pants. He watched as I unbuckled and lowered my slacks. He told me to lower my girdle, panties and hose, I complied, feeling very embarrassed. He reached back and felt where I had shaved. He commented very well, now get dressed and I will see you tonight. I left his car, went to mine and returned to work.
The afternoon was a disaster; I could not concentrate on my work. I finally left early telling everyone I was not feeling well. I went home and just crashed on the couch. About Six, I finally got up and with a feeling of inevitability, Took off my outer clothes. I shaved again, went ot the spare room and selected a outfit for this evening. I dressed, picked out a pair of flats and proceeded to pack my stuff. I had to find some boxes than move all of it to my car. It took up the trunk and all of the back seat . I also had to use the passenger seat for my dresses. With the packing done I went to the bathroom, opened my purse and applied my makeup. I than donned my wig and brushed it out, setting it as I went. I checked the time ,a little after eight. I had a drink of wine to relax me, went to the car and switched my flats for a pair of three-inch heels. Backed out and headed to the unknown.
Another Beginning
I thought I knew the city, I also thought I knew where the address was that he had given me. It took about a half a hour to find it , but there it was. I drove slowly down the street until I saw the address. The house was Large, older style, and brick with a gated entrance; thankfully it looked like the gates were never used. I turned into the drive and headed for the house. The garage door started to open as I approached. He was standing there and waving me into the garage. I drove in ,put the car in park as he opened the car door. He was looking me over a I exited the car. He said welcome. Let me show you where to put your things. We walked out the backdoor of the garage, along the rear of the house to the back entrance. He opened the door and made a immediate left turn into a room. As I followed him into the room he said , Well this is your room. It used to be the maid quarters when this house was new. It has a closet thru that door and a bathroom thru this one. He turned and headed out with me following. He said I should put all my things in the room than he pointed down a hall and told me to come in the sitting room when I was done. He than left for the front.
I went out the door, to the garage and returned with a armload of clothing. That I dumped on the bed. I continued until the car was empty. It was like moving a good friend out. I opened the closet to put my things away . I noticed several maids’ uniforms hanging there. I took one down and it looked great. I put it back and started to put my clothing away. I used the top shelf for my wigs and the drawers in the dresser for my intimate apparel. When I finished I went to the bathroom and checked my hair and makeup. I than headed to the front of the house to see what awaited me.
I walked down the hall to the room that had a light on. I turned the corner and he was sitting there. He looked up and told me to have a seat , waving his hand at the room. I sat on one end of a long couch He was sitting in a armed high back chair. I said now that I have done as you told me, what’s next? He asked if I wanted a glass of wine? I said that would be nice. He than said ” well get up and pour us both a glass, the wine is on the side table”. I got up and returned with 2 glasses and returned to my seat. He raised the glass and said here is a toast to your new life. I raised my glass than took a sip. Sitting there waiting to hear what he had to say.
He took his time, looking at me while I waited. He than started,” I have spent several months checking you out. I know you love to dress in women’s clothes, I know you like to walk in the park, go to the bar where we met, you do not have many friends, especially women. I also know you make a decent living, also you are heterosexual. Those are the reasons I chose you. Now this is what you are going to do for me. You will become my blow broad, You will also be my bondage model and when I want we will go out together. You will also be my part time maid around here. You will do everything I want you to do or I promise you I will let everyone you know and work with what you have been up to, such as the pictures I showed you. I also have another hundred you haven’t seen. Do you understand? I said yes. Now any questions? Yes, how did you get me to pose for those pictures? He chuckled, Than said You were out from what I put in your drink. So when I carried you to the room, I posed you with the camera on a tripod like the one over here, pointing to a camera near his chair. He than said, If you look at the pictures your eyes are closed. Anything else, I said no.
He than said we will work at this slowly so you can get comfortable with your second life. I want you to continue working and living on your own but be available when I want you, understand? I said yes. I also want you to wear stocking, panties and girdle every day, all day. I also want you to keep yourself hairless. I will eventually have all your body hair removed by laser treatments, eventually. I also want to have you chastised. I do not want to have any medical problems from you screwing around on me. Outward, I want you to remain as a male. I want you to be a female in everything else, feeling, desires, undergarments and every other way, the complete female. This will take a long time and I want to approach this slowly and document the complete change on film.
Now get over here and give me your best blowjob! I thought, “How can I do this? He than repeated himself, much louder. I got up and walked over to his chair. I took hold of the soft arms of the chair, one on either side of him, and leaned on them, and lurched to my knees between his knees. In a single swift motion he undid his buckle and pants, unzipped his fly, slipped his pants and underwear out from under him and down to his ankles, gently put his hands on either side of my head, and pulled my face toward his crotch. His cock rose up toward me as I approached, still fascinated and horrified, unable to do anything about it. The thing wasn’t that impressive in size, but respectable. To me at that moment it looked liked a monster. I’ll help you.” He leaned back. “Just put your hands under my balls and cup them gently, Then kiss the tip of my prick, right where you see that little drop of clear fluid. Lick it with your tongue. That’s it. What does it taste like?”
I thought, here goes nothing, and leaned forward, and touched my tongue to the tip of his penis, where he had directed me. “A little salty,” I said, not wanting to say more, wondering if I was going to retch if I said more.
“That’s it,” he said, “Think about each taste, each feeling, so you’ll remember. If you pay close enough attention to everything, your mouth will remember. And I want your mouth to remember. Now, just open up, and form an “O” with your lips, and slide it over the head of my cock. It feels silky, doesn’t it. That’s it. Lift your head up and tell me how it feels.”
“Silky,” I said. I was trying not to notice, to close off my mind, to put my attention somewhere else.
“Yes,” he said. Now slide your “O” mouth down onto my cock head again, this time a little further, until you can feel the soft ridge it ends in, all around. Do you feel it? Clamp down a little just below the ridge with your lips.”
I did as he said. I felt the ridge with the moist inside of my lips.” Now open your jaw wide. Wider. We don’t want your pretty teeth interfering with our pleasure, do we. But keep the “O” nice and tight below the ridge. Stay still a moment, and notice how it feels. Now pull back against the ridge slightly, then tuck your lips under it again.”
I did that.
“Now slide your lips over the ridge by tightening your lip muscles on it a little bit, like kissing it all around with your mouth open. Ah, that’s right. Let a little saliva lubricate everything. Lovely. Now very gently, make a slight suction with your mouth.”
My wet lips slid a little bit down the shaft of his penis as the suction pulled him into my mouth. I noticed that his hands on my head kept up their gentle pressure, so I couldn’t back off as the main part of his penis entered my mouth.
“Feels good, doesn’t it. Slide your mouth up and tell me, but do it slowly, so the “O” stays snug, and when your lips reach the tip, kiss it. Aw, that’s sweet. Kiss it again. Ah. You feel now that your lips are empty, don’t you, and you want to refill them with something for your lips to squeeze. Is that right? Tell me I’m right.”
His hands twisted each side of my head gently, turning my face up toward his, and I saw he was looking into my eyes, waiting for an answer. I looked back at him, still whirling a little. I couldn’t look away. My mouth was still pursed from kissing his prick, and I could still feel his cock-head ridge on my lips, and I could still sense his pre-cum in my nose when I exhaled. Would I ever be able to forget this?
“Oh, God!” I said.
“That’s right,” he replied. “It is heavenly, isn’t it. If you’d like, lick me and kiss me anywhere you want. From the base to the tip. Underneath especially. Yes. Yes. That’s right. Now make your little “O” again and wrap your mouth around me again, and pull me in. Only this time, deeper. I’m getting eager to fuck that little mouth of yours. This time we’ll go all the way. But don’t worry, I’ll tell you what to do. I’ll remind you what to do.”
Before my head went back down on him I started to say something, but it didn’t get very far. I don’t know what I would have said next anyhow. My head once again facing the tip of his cock, I made my “O” and opened my jaw just in time as he thrust it in.
“That’s it,. Suck. Slide. Again. If you need to come up for air every now and then, or to ease your jaw muscles, do. I’ll feel your head pressing on my hands, and I’ll ease off. Suck. But each time you leave my head behind, I want you to kiss the tip. Kiss it passionately. Devotedly. Lovingly. Try to stick your tongue into that little hole at the end. Slide. I want to feel you can’t get enough of kissing me. I want you to know you can’t get enough. I want your lips to feel they can’t wrap tightly enough around me. I want you to slide me all the way into your mouth until my tip bumps on the back of your throat and maybe slides down into your throat. Suck. Press your tongue flat against me and slide. Lick my head and down again. Ah. More. Suck. Again. Slide. Now. Again.”
He kept pumping my head against his crotch, slowly and gently, and kept up his steady chatter, while I formed my “O” and held my jaws wide open and felt more and more of his meat fit into my mouth, and each plunge brought my nose closer to the base of his shaft, I sucked him in and slid him away. Now and then when I came up, my head would wait on his tip as if it were the lips of the most gorgeous woman imaginable, my lips pressing on him and caressing him and my tongue flicking the delicate hole at the end until again I opened up wide and took him back into my mouth, and slid my lips down his shaft as far as I could reach, and pulsed them at the bottom. His hands held me and moved me, and his hips began bucking up toward me, he was plainly getting hot. My nose was now getting down into his hairs, and his cock kept cramming against my throat then backing away, and I worried about gagging. I realized that at this angle there was no way I could bring him all the way in to relieve that pushing at the back of my neck, so I concentrated on bringing him off as soon as I could. He pumped me while I pumped him, and my lips compressed and pulled and puckered and tightened and loosened around the “O” they formed, and my tongue swiped his underside on my upswings, and danced over the helmet-shaped head. I realized irrelevantly that I couldn’t have much lipstick left on, I found that except for the back of my throat, it wasn’t too bad. Some odd sensations, certainly very different. I took his advice and began paying attention to the alternating slippery, satiny, bumpy ride my lips were making. It was interesting, that sensation. If he’s turned on because I seem to love this, I thought, I’m going to seem to love it like crazy, and we’ll get it over with. I concentrated on satisfying him, and began to let my fingertips fly over his balls and squeeze them gently, and sometimes I caressed the base of his cock. Every now and then I gave a kind of pathetic muffled cry deep in my throat, “Ohhh!”, “Oooohhh!”, as if I couldn’t get enough. Suck, slide, suck, and slide.
Suddenly he said, I’m going to come. Hold me deep and start swallowing as fast as you can! Hold me, don’t spill me. AHHH!” And hot cum splashed against the back of my throat with each pulsation. He shot his load into me, and I swallowed, and I held him sealed in my mouth and swallowed, and I reached into my throat with the back of my tongue and swallowed, and I rolled his thick liquid forward in my mouth and swallowed, and each time I thought it would overflow my mouth I swallowed. Meanwhile his hands crushed my face into his crotch, deep into its hairs, and he bucked against it, and I couldn’t breath. His climax seemed interminable. He kept pulsing. My mouth filled with something sort of slick and creamy. Not too bad I thought, as he pulsed on and I kept swallowing. I’m surviving this, I said to myself. I leaned in and sucked the last of his cum out of him as if his prick were a straw.
He let go of my head, still breathing heavily. I looked up, and he grinned at me.
Then I leaned back off my knees and sat down on the floor. For a moment I couldn’t look at him. I kept working my tongue around my mouth and swallowing, trying to get the last squeezes of his cum off my teeth and out from the crevices of my cheeks, and off from where some of it had coated my lips. “I hope you really do love that stuff,” he said as he watched me licking my lips and working my mouth, his breathing almost back to normal. I didn’t say anything. “Clean me up,” he said. “Lick me until you have it all.” I got back on my knees and licked his prick, up and down and all over, then stood up. “You know, that was pretty good for a first time,” he said. “You have a talent.” This stopped me for a moment. If I were gay, or a real woman, it probably would have been enjoyable. “Thank you. It was very different!” I said with some cynicism. What else could I say? I began wondering what would get rid of the cum-flavor in my mouth. It really was creamy, and slick in texture. He than said I should go to my bathroom and fix my makeup. I went to the bathroom in my room and washed my mouth several times with water. I thought to myself ,what the hell have I got myself into, I only wanted to dress and now this, what a mess! Resigned, I fixed my makeup and returned to the front room.
As I reentered the room, He was getting some rope out of a closet. He told he to sit on the ottoman, pointing to it. I sat as he continued to gather more rope. He turned and approached me saying, “I think I got some great pictures with my camera, you will see how good you looked, sucking on my cock. Now for my other hobby, I am going to tie you up for awhile. He ordered me to put my arms behind me and he started to tie me up. He tied me very tight than gagged me. Walking to the other side of the room, he focused the camera and started taking pictures. I could not move, here I was dressed with my leather skirt and gold tone blouse with my three inch heels and not able to move. When he finished he sat down and asked if I could hear him? I nodded my head yes. He than proceeded, “I like this arrangement, we are going to have a lot of fun, at least I will. We will be doing both things a lot! You better start to enjoy or else. Now I have several places to go and I am going to leave you for a while, don’t go to far” he said with a little chuckle. And he left.
When he returned, several hours later, my arms were numb as were my legs. He took the gag out of my mouth and asked what time I had to leave my house to get to work? I told him by seven am. He said good, and untied me completely. I tried to get up but I did not have a lot of feeling in my legs. He helped me up and told me to go to my room and strip out of my street clothes. I wondered what this was all about, but did as he said. I was down to my slip when he came in. He told me to put my heels on and lay down on the bed. He than retied me.
Leaving to get his camera, he returned and started to take pictures. He must have taken four rolls. Grabbing the camera, he said he would get me up in time to get dressed and return home to finish dressing for work.
I woke with a start, he was rubbing my cock thru my panties, with my legs tied the way they were, I could not do anything. I was getting very hard, than he stopped and untied me. I was ordered to get cleaned up and ready for work. I went to the bathroom, showered, shaved and went to the john. When I came out he was there with some clothes on the bed. He told me to get dressed but no makeup. I looked over the clothes and started to dress.
He asked me to stand near the mirror in the old fireplace. I did as he asked and he took more pictures. I put my blouse and skirt on ,stepped into my heels, added my coat than stopped and looked at him for direction. He snapped a few more pics than said he would be in touch. In the mean time I was to wear my underclothes every day. He would be checking. And I was to ALWAYS have the girdle, panties and stockings on, Always. I walked out the back door to my car, the door was open, I than drove out and returned to my rented home. I went in and put my man clothes on after removing the skirt, blouse, bra and shoes. I returned to my car and headed to work.
As I arrived at work, the only thought was to get some coffee. I headed to the coffee pot and made a cup than went to my desk. After drinking the coffee I could not get started. The happenings since last Saturday were catching up to me. How my life had changed in just a few short days. Wednesday morning, I had sex with another man, been tied up as a women. Been photographed, lost my independence, Sitting in my office with a girdle and stockings on, my panties giving me a very erotic feeling and as I thought, I worried that the garters would show thru my pants. I finally realized it was nine thirty already, I went to the break area and made another cup of coffee. Returning to my office, I fired the computer up and tried to get to work. I had to work at being productive. I did not go to lunch and the afternoon was like the morning, fighting off my personal thoughts to accomplish anything.
I stopped at a fast food restraunt on my way home, than continued home. I made some coffee when I arrived than sat in the kitchen going over my life changes again. The hardest part of all this is trying to figure out what Richard is really after. If all he wanted were a blowjob and someone to model for bondage, it would be easier to hire some people for that. That is the quandary, what is he really after?
It was early but I decided to retire. I removed my outer clothes, than my feminine wear, washed the nylons, took my pill and hit the sack. Next morning I had my coffee, dressed and went to work. This went on for the rest of the week. Friday morning I received another Email telling me to be at the house at seven.
The attachment was as always, a picture of me with a cock in my mouth. I deleted it and the complete file, knowing what I had to do.
I hurried home and changed, using the same skirt and blouse I came home in earlier in the week. Applied my makeup from my purse, put on my wig and headed to Richards place.
When I arrived, I pulled into the open garage, walked around the back and into the house. Richard was waiting for me just inside the door. He said he hoped I did not have anything planned for the weekend because he had many plans for it already. I said no, I didn’t have any plans. He said, well, now I want a blowjob before we get started. We walked into the sitting room; I got on my knees while he lowered his pants. He said just remember what I told you earlier. I took his cock in my hand and started kissing his prick. I could hear the camera clicking while I blew him.
He held my wig out of the way of the camera. As he became excited he told me to keep his come in my mouth and not to swallow. Just as he finished talking I felt the surge of come against my throat. I pulled his cock out to make room for his come. When he had finished, he asked if I had a mouth full? I nodded yes. He said good, Do not swallow ! He than told me to go to my room and put on the clothes he had laid out , we were going out tonight to the club.
I did as he said. He had a cute little black dress for me to wear with some 4 inch heels. I changed while he watched. He than instructed me to change my wig to a black one. I did this as he told me to forget about my makeup. I changed my purse to a small black shoulder bag, than we went to his car and drove to the club.
When we arrived he again asked if I still had his come? I nodded yes. We got out of the car and walked to the club. When we entered he directed me to a table and had me sit so anyone could see me. A little while later, one of my acquaintances noticed me and came over. He/she asked how I was doing? Richard replied that I couldn’t answer because my mouth was full of his come and I would speak to her later. She looked at me with a questioning look; I nodded yes to the unspoken question. She looked amazed as she left. Several others approached that I had talked to in the past and all received the same answer. They all had the astonished look on their faces as they left.
Shortly after that he told me to swallow and ordered a drink for me, he was on his third. After drinking quickly he told me to get one of my friends and go freshen up my makeup. He said I should say that I decided to get myself a real man and wanted to be more submissive women.
After we went into the ladies room, the questions flowed! I told Angela what I was told to , She couldn’t believe what I was saying. She swore she thought I was very heterosexual, not into the gay scene. She than asked if I really had come in my mouth? I told her I sucked Richard before we had arrived. She wanted to know how it really tasted, Did I enjoy sucking a cock? Was I going to take hormones? I answered as quickly as I could while fixing my makeup, than told her I had to get back. She said she wanted to know everything whenever I saw her again.
I returned to the table, we watched the scene for a while, than Richard said we should get going. I picked up my purse, then we left. Richard asked what went on in the ladies room as we headed for his house. I filled him in and finished by telling him that she wanted to know all. He said I would have the chance soon.
When we arrived I was told to use my entrance and go to my room, and wait for him. He showed up a few minutes later with some leather and his trusty camera. He told me to stand still while he got me ready for some pictures. He put a collar on me than added a belt around my ankles and my legs just above my knees. He told me to put my arms behind my back, he than added two more belts to my wrists and above my elbows. Pushing me into the uncovered bed and moving me to the center, he pulled my legs up into a fetal position attaching a metal hook to my collar and the knee belt. After adjusting my wig, he took several rolls of film from every angle. He than left the room with me still bound on the bed.
Along time later , he returned ,untied me and told me to remove my dress but to leave everything else on. I did as he said than I was told to change the sheets. When the bed was remade, he had me put my arms behind my back and he retied me with rope, both the elbows and my wrists. He also gagged me with a silky scarf. He pushed me down on the bed and started taking more pictures.
After another role of film he left to reload the camera. When he returned , He tied my legs and my ankles. Again he took more pictures
I was getting quite uncomfortable but also very hot. With my girdle on I did not get hard due to the lack of room but hot non the less. I had always wanted to be tied as a TV, but never imagined it would feel like this, so helpless.
He seemed to notice my condition and roled me over and lifted my slip. He than took several more shots. Leaving the room ,he said nothing. When he returned again it was with several pieces of leather and some locks. He approached me and started to play with me through my girdle. It did not take long before I was bucking on the bed . He slapped my ass and told me to be still. It only took a couple of seconds and I came. I could feel my girdle getting all gooey inside from my come.
He started to untie me than replace the ropes with the leather straps. He took my heels off and replaced the gag. He than removed the pillows from the bed. He took several more shots of me bound with his leather straps than connected the knee strap with the collar. When he finished the shots, he undid the strap from the knees, rolled me on my stomach. He proceeded to attach my ankles to my collar and my wrists, slapped me on my ass, said, “Sleep well” and left.
I was so horny; I did not sleep for a long time. When I woke ,it was because Richard was patting my ass telling to wake up, we had a busy day ahead of us. He untied me and removed all the bondage. I was told to remain in my slip and make some coffee. Everything hurt so nice from being bound all night, but got it all working as I headed to the kitchen.
After we each finished coffee, I was told to dress in a skirt and blouse, We were going to see a doctor friend of his. She was a gynecologist who he had met on a local chat room and several months later had convinced her to meet for dinner. He found out She had fixed her husband for cheating on her by feminizing him. Richard had asked to take pictures but she refused, however She volunteered to do the same thing for Richard if he had a “friend”, I was to be the friend.
I did the dishes than went to my room. I showered, shaved and got ready after washing out my girdle. I put on my curly wig, a light blouse and a medium length skirt with Garter belt, panties and my mid high heels.
Robert came into the room and added a small leather choker. We proceeded to his car and drove downtown. We pulled into a parking lot and went to the building next door. We took the elevator to the 9th floor and than down the hall to a office 922. Thankfully no one was in the inner office. Richard walked me down the corridor to a room. He had me get up on the examining table, than he produced some rope from a bag he had brought. He tied me than took some pictures.
He left me tied and exited the room. I could hear voices than footsteps. They entered the room and I was really embarrassed. She walked over without saying anything, looked me over and felt my chest and in general gave me a good looking and feeling all over. She had Richard untie me, while She told me to unbutton my blouse and raise my skirt. She than put my feet in the stirrups and did a complete exam of me. She seemed to pay particular attention to my cock and my chest. She took many samples of blood from my arm. When she had finished ,She told me to get dressed while she ran some tests on my samples. Richard commented that he had done some work in his lab and handed her the results to measure against hers. I was told to remain on the table. They both left the room.
I was on the table for over a half an hour before Richard returned. He told me to get up and straighten my clothing. I pulled my panties up and buttoned my blouse when he told me to stop. I was told to turn and face the tables he tied my hands and arms to my waist with my skirt raised. He taped my mouth and pushed me down on the examination table where he tied me to it with my butt in the air.
He took more pictures of me in that position.
The doctor returned and chuckled. She commented that Richard sure did like tying me up and taking so many pictures. She said she would like some copies showing my progress. He readily agreed to do that. She walked over so I could see her and introduced her. She was doctor Worth and would be setting up appointments during the weeks to follow. She told me I was to come dressed and to plan for about a hour each visit. She told me I was to receive several injections today and She would give me a couple of prescriptions I was to take per instructions. She wheeled in a small cart and swabbed my backside with alcohol after moving my panties out of the way. Richard took many pictures as she injected me, first one side than the other, I was starting to feel like a pin cushion. Richard than untied me and we walked to the doctors office.
We sat down and she explained that I would probably start to feel a bit nauseous in the mornings in about a week, I was not to worry, it was from one of the shots I received. She said the first prescription would make me feel better. I was to continue the hormones I was given by Richard and to take two other pills as she handed over two more prescriptions. She than gave Richard two more to help me with what he had in mind. She than set up appointments for Friday afternoons every three weeks. As a parting conversation, she said I would enjoy the ride to womanhood and all the changes, after a few months we would be getting together with her and her husband. Who I would meet soon. We got up and left the office and the building. My bottom was sore as I sat in the car.
Richard parked outside a pharmacy and handed me his prescriptions and some money, telling me to go in and have them filled along with mine. I was so frightened. He literally pushed me out onto the street. I walked in and went directly to the pharmacist. I handed the prescriptions to him. He looked up with a smile and told me to wait a few minutes. As he handed me the drugs he gave me a little wink and said he hoped to see me again. I paid him and left as soon and fast as I could. I got in the car and we headed home.
Final chapter
When we arrived home, Richard told me to change into a black skirt and light sweater and to leave my heels on. He said he would join me shortly. I changed ,checking my butt as I did. It seemed I had gotten several injections from the little red marks. I freshened my makeup and sat on the bed for awhile. Richard came in with some rope and cuffs. He hand and ankle cuffed me than laid me on the bed, attaching rope from the hands to my ankles, as always he took several pictures.
He said he had to go out and would return shortly. I laid there for quite a while and began thinking about what was happening to me. I loved the dressing and the thrill of being out, it was also very humilifying, I might look good in the dark but in broad daylight, I wasn’t so sure. I also wondered what was going to happen with the shots and the pills. Nothing had seemed to change yet but what was in store for me as a man ? what would happen with my job? And I had very mixed emotions about the sex Richard was having with me. I know many TV’s have fantasies but mine were becoming reality. I also wondered what was going to happen next? I sure did not have a life of my own. If I just said the hell with it what would Richard really do, would he publish those pictures? I knew in my heart he would. I summed up my thoughts by figuring it was probably better to go along until he got tired of all this than try to put myself back together. I than must have dozed off.
I thought I was having a wet dream, I was close to Cumming in my panties. When I opened my eyes, Richard had his hand up my skirt and was playing with me. I came almost instantly! He asked if I was awake yet, with a large grin on his face. He rolled me over on my back and undid the cuffs, with that he said I should change my panties. I got up and went to the bathroom than changed. He told me to fix a light dinner than we would be off. After fixing, eating, and cleaning up the dishes and pans we were ready to go, but where?
He told me to change into a dark skirt and sweater ,no bra and no stockings. I was to wear this gaff as he removed it from the bag on the counter. He also said I should wear the clogs with the high heels that I had. I went to my room and changed. When I returned to the kitchen , he was just finishing a cup of coffee. I was ordered to pull up my skirt, which I did. He looked pleased. The flesh colored gaff really hid the real me. I looked like I had a shaved pussy. He ordered me to turn around and pull my skirt down. I did and he attached hand cuffs. He told me , tonight we were going for a walk in the park and hoped I would enjoy the evening he had planned.
We drove to the park ,me with my hands behind my back and a large knapsack in the back seat. I really did not have any idea what he was up to.
We parked in a fairly remote area , the sky was just heading to dusk but you could still see pretty good. He exited the car , grabbed the sack than came to my side of the car. He opened the door ,I exited than we started to walk. I was getting really horny, here I was walking with my female clothes, handcuffed and enjoying the walk. We walked for many minutes deeper into the park, than off the path into the woods. Several more minutes followed until he came to a spot he seemed to like. He said that this looked pretty good, dropped his bag, reached in and pulled out a piece of rope . With the rope he tied me to the tree. As always he shot several pictures. He than cut several small saplings off and cleared a area around the stumps. He untied me than fastened a rope around my waist and between my legs, I thought he was trying to crush my balls! He unfastened the hand cuffs and attached some rope to each wrist.He put a cloth gag in my mouth than told me to lay down on the ground. He positioned me where he wanted, than tied the two ropes to the cut trees. So here I was spread tied to the trees on the ground while he set up his camera and tripod. He than tied my leg with a rope and attached it to the third tree. The camera was clicking away as he finished the other leg.
After I was totally immobilized, he undid the gag ,put a pill in my mouth and redid the gag. Sitting next to me he said that I liked the park so much he was going to leave me for most of the night. This sent shivers and fear through me, I struggled against the bonds without any luck. He got up and started taking more pictures. When he was finished, he reached into the bag a pulled out a dark blanket and covered me. He than said he was going to cover me with leaves and to be still. I could feel the leaves covering me but could not see anything. Than the noise stopped and I heard footsteps leaving. He was serious! He was leaving he, What if someone found me? There was nothing I could do! Every noise made my heart jump. I thought of so many weird things happening. I did not seem tired ,so I just laid there thinking and getting very hot! If I could only touch myself. I started to enjoy my predicament. I thought “the hell with it , I was scared but horny at the same time”.
With what seemed days my mind just kept going, than I heard footsteps. Now I was really scared. The leaves and the cover started to move but no words Than I felt a hand move the ropes around my crotch. I couldn’t scream, than the hand started to jerk me off through the gaff. I came almost in a second than relaxed. The hand removed itself and the footsteps left. I had so many emotions happening all at the same time I thought I would just expire.
A long time later it happened again . I knew I was going to have a heart attack! Than the covers moved from my legs ,than the rest of me . Now I could see Richard and it was light! I don’t know if I even slept. He asked if I had a good night. I didn’t answer but asked what time it was. A little before Seven he said. I than said I do not remember sleeping and no, I did not have a good night. What if someone found me like this? He replied that they would have had a good time. During the conversation, he had untied me and helped me up. He said he had some fabulous pictures especially with me struggling on the ground. He put all the stuff back into the backpack and we started for the car.
When we arrived at the house he told me to go and get cleaned up, he would make the coffee. I stripped all my clothes and the wig off , throwing the clothes in the hamper. I washed myself in the shower for a very long time. I dried myself off and shaved. I than put on my long wig and applied my makeup, fixed my nail polish than proceeded to the room. On the bed was a belt with rings and four leather straps that looked like they fit on my wrists. I thought “oh no know what?” Richard walked in and ordered me to put the belt on. I did, he than attached the leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles. He told me to wear my black heels only. I asked if he wanted me nude! YES was the answer. I was not used to walking around nude and I had a hard on which he snickered over. Ha said it did not fit the rest of the image. I followed him to the kitchen and had some coffee, it felt funny sitting in the nude drinking.
When we finished , I cleaned up the cups and put them away. He told me to go to the bathroom and wait. Entering with a douche bag ,he instructed me to bend over as he filled it. Lightly lubing up my backside he inserted the end and released the water. It filled me very quickly. He told me to hold it for a few minutes than expel it. I waited as long as I could than let it out . He repeated the process. I wiped myself than he lubed my bottom a lot. Than he told me to go into the little room and sit on the wooden chair facing the back.
Richard followed me into the room. As I sat me attached my arms to the belt than tied my legs to the chair. He ordered me to lift myself off the chair. I could feel the pressure of something being inserted into me, I also heard the camera clicking. it was Large!
I told Richard it hurt! He said I had better get used to it because I was going to have one up me from now on. I asked what he meant and he said I was to have the dildo up me at all times, this included at work. I just moaned. He said I would get used to it and it was necessary to stretch me out so I could be fucked when he wanted to. He left me sitting in the chair with the enormous dildo in me for a long time.
When he returned, he untied me ,than handed me some stockings to put on. It was difficult bending with the dildo inside me but I finished. He than put a rope to my arm cuffs and pulled my arms over my head using a hook in the ceiling. He than placed a ring gag in my mouth. Everything hurt and I started to cry. He again took some pictures.
He than grabbed my balls and squeezed a ring behind them. I leaned back against a padded bar as far as I could to try and hold the dildo in. Attaching a snap to the ring than a chain from my ankle to the clip than to my other ankle. He ordered me to spread my feet as far as I could.
Taking more pictures before he left.
It was a long night. When he came in, it was still dark outside. Undoing my bonds, he told me to dress for work . I went directly to the bathroom. Removed the dildo and got cleaned up. I washed the dildo off ,than proceeded to the room. He took one look at me than ordered me to give myself a enema. With frustration ,I returned to the bathroom and did as I was told. Handing me the KY jelly ,I lubed myself up and reinserted the dildo. It went in a little easier this time. I returned to the room where he had laid out my outfit. I put on the girdle, stocking and a waist cincher. I must have looked puzzled but he just said he wanted me to start wearing it from now on. I than put on my skirt blouse and heels for the ride home. Before I left he told me to sit and have some coffee. It was somewhat difficult with the dildo, but I managed.
He decided that we needed to talk. Reaffirming his threats to let the world know he continued, I would now wear everything I was wearing except for the outer clothes. He would be having lunch with me this week and checking to make sure I followed orders. He handed me a bag and said I was to wear the night gowns when I was home ,he would be checking on that also. No mens clothing except to work. If I had to go out at night ,it would be dressed as I was now. He than said I could go.
The ride home was interesting, every time I hit a bump it felt like I was being raped. I got into the house at six am. To early for work and to late for sleep, this was going to be a difficult day. I went to my room, removed my skirt and blouse, opened the bag and spread the contents on the bed. There was a douche bag, lube, pills and two nightgowns. I put everything away in the spare room. I than dressed for work in my male clothes, made some coffee and waited for the proper time to leave for work.

пятница, 8 мая 2015 г.

Black Master, white sissy
Every one who saw me at work used to think I was Mr. Clean, Mr. Respectable. I work in advertising and I used to model my appearance on the sort of guys you find between the pages of GQ. Very American, very preppy. I was a nice middle-class boy with a nice expensive haircut and a nice expensive suit. I went to an up market health club to keep my body in peak condition. I’d even dated a nice girl from time to time. So you’d be right in thinking that I was a bit of a closet case. I used to pass a gay bar on my way home from work; in the summer the faggots would spill out over the pavement and ogle me as I jogged past. I wanted nothing to do with them and no way did I feel part of them. Don’t get me wrong – they didn’t bother me and I wouldn’t badmouth them; I just didn’t feel that I could relate to them. So I guess you could say I was an arrogant son of a bitch.
Well, I’ve changed now. Sure as fuck I’ve moved on and you wouldn’t recognise me. And I don’t just mean my appearance though God knows that has changed, too. No I’m talking about the real me, the me inside that was always there but needed a real tough black skinhead master to bring it out.
It’s a giveaway, isn’t it, speaking so contemptuously about ‘faggots’? I thought I was not just Mr. Clean but also Mr. Macho. So perhaps if that bar had been a leather bar, I would have changed sooner. I also used to jog past a building site and I sure slowed down a lot as I went past. A dozen or so workmen were always hanging around, smoking and chatting rather than working, and although some of these were the usual overweight, slack-jeaned type, there were a number of tough young hard-bodied lads as well. Of course, my arrogance meant that I imagined that I acted subtly, that I was able to size up the workmen without them noticing me doing so. 
Until one evening, arms working like pistons, breathing heavily, my blond hair flopping sexily over one eye, I heard a voice say, “Here comes the faggot again.” To which another instantly added, “Nah, she’s a sissy.” I flushed red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, and turned to look at the second speaker as I speeded up a little. Not too much – I didn’t want the creep to think that he had got to me in any way. I had little more than a glimpse of a black street tough, a guy at least four inches shorter than me, hair cropped close to his skull, and a cheeky grin plastered across his face, before I rounded the corner and was gone. I changed my route home from then on.
After that experience, I often found myself studying my face in a mirror for signs not just of of faggotry but effeminacy. I couldn’t see them. I thought I looked pretty hot, of course, but also very masculine. I mean I wasn’t overly hairy but nor was I smooth. But I was haunted by that glimpse of working class rough who felt that I wasn’t the man that he was. He was right and I had a lesson still to learn.

And so the fateful day came when I worked late at the office and was pressed for time and decided to go past the building site for the first time in weeks. It was after seven so I imagined there would be no one there. Almost from f***e of habit I slowed down as I neared it and there he was…sitting on a low wall, smoking a cigarette and watching me approach. I stared resolutely ahead and prepared to sail past him. The next thing the ground was coming racing to meet me as I went sprawling over his outstretched leg.
“Sorry, mate,” said a voice that didn’t sound remotely contrite. I looked up at him standing over me, stretching out a hand to help me up. I was winded and couldn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was clearly enjoying my discomfiture.
“You bastard!” I finally managed to get out, ignoring his hand and standing up. “You did that on purpose!”
“Yeah. I wanted to see what a sissy looked like up close.” I clenched my fist and swung for him. He stepped back and I almost fell over again.
“Hey. No hard feelings, mate. If you want it rough, we don’t have to do it here.” I blinked foolishly at this statement. “C’mon. Just follow me.”
Right. I should have turned and headed in the opposite direction. I should have landed a kick on the fucker and got going. I could have outrun him – he looked fit but my legs were longer. I should have… But I didn’t. What I did do was look furtively over my shoulder to see if anyone had seen this meeting and walk lamely behind him into the abandoned building where he had been working. He locked the door behind me which caused me a few anxious moments. He might have been a psychopath but I don’t suppose psychos kiss which is what he did as soon as we were safe from the outside world. It was a rundown warehouse with lots of smaller rooms leading off a big deserted store room. He unlocked one of the smaller rooms and, taking me by the hand, led me inside. He picked up a six pack of beer from a table and passed one to me. As we both pulled on the tabs he looked at me and said, “Do you trust me?” I thought at first I had misheard him and looked quizzically at him. He repeated what he had said and I thought for a moment before replying that I did. And in fact I did trust him. In spite of him calling me a faggot, I think I sensed that this guy had planned this meeting because he fancied me. Certainly I fancied him – manual labour had given him a body that I worked artificially for, the skinhead haircut accentuated the strong chiselled features of his face, the broad nose and generous lips – and the unexpected turn the evening had taken excited me. 
Plus he was black so that nothing could have emphasised the difference between us more effectively. My colouring was pale – he was ebony black, the kind of blackness so intense it begins to look purple.The hint of danger was a turn on too. But, yes, fundamentally I trusted him and told him so.
“Good,” he said. “Don’t go away.” And he left the room. I felt that I had reached the point of no return now in any case and that I didn’t have a clue how I’d get out of the building even if I had wanted to, so I sipped my beer and waited.
I don’t know where he went – presumably to one of the other rooms; I don’t think I wondered what he was up to; but I was genuinely surprised when he returned, dressed in full leather, jacket, jeans and boots, a pair of handcuffs dangling from the left hand side of his belt, and a glint of steel at his chest where his nipples had been pierced catching the light from the naked bulb above my head. Over his shoulder swung a back pack which weighed ominously heavy.
“Trust me,” he said again, looking steadily at me. I stared back as if mesmerised, neither acquiescing nor rejecting and he moved towards me, unfastening the cuffs from his belt. He stopped directly in front of me and looked up at me. Then he said softly but in a tone which allowed no dissent, “Strip.” Hurriedly, I pulled off my singlet and shorts, then hesitated.
“Everything,” he said in the same voice. Off came the socks and trainers and then, with a final slight hesitation, my jockstrap to reveal my cock standing to attention. He turned me round, rather gently as if to reassure me, and fastened the handcuffs on my wrists.
I was trembling slightly. I had not had many gay experiences and usually only when I had d***k a fair bit. Half a can of lager had not relaxed me much now and I was apprehensive. He stroked me gently as if he were calming a nervous colt and kissed me again, his tongue forcing open my mouth and pressing between my teeth. I relaxed into him as he held my face between his hands, now really turned on by the feel and smell of his leathers, and the hardness of his body. I had been kissed twice and already I felt that it was the most exciting sex I had ever experienced! He hadn’t even begun. Pushing me away, more roughly, he pulled open his back pack and rummaged inside it before producing a broad leather dog collar which he buckled around my neck.
“Hang on,” I said anxiously. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“You like it rough,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. “And you’re lucky, cos so do I.” He fastened a chain to the collar and pulled me after him, back into the large store room. I followed meekly behind him as he led me to one end of the room. Delving into his bag again, he produced a set of leather ankle restraints and bending down he fastened them on me. He then said, “On your knees” and when I obeyed he padlocked the restraints to a couple of heavy rings set in the floor. Had he set them there or had he chosen this place because of them? In any case, the difference in our heights had ceased to matter.
“Right, pretty boy. Now it’s time for a little training. And time you learnt your place. This date’s been a long time coming and I’m gonna make sure you remember it. So, for a start, a few rules. You’re gonna keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to speak and when you do speak you call me Sir. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl!“
I opened my mouth to protest but the look he gave me was so fierce that the protest stopped on my lips. And the first thing I’m gonna do is make you look like less of a faggot and more like a sissy.” His hand went into the bag again and came out with a set of electric hairdressing shears which he plugged in to the wall.
“Now just keep nice and still, slave, and it’ll be easier for you.” He started on my chest hair. I put up with that as I was reckoning that I could still get away with it at the gym – after all, many guys shaved their chests to show off the definition of their worked-out chests. When he started on my groin, I dared to protest.
“Hey, come on, man. I’ve got to show myself in the changing rooms.” He slapped me across my face and said, “Shut the fuck up, sissy. And you’ll regret not addressing me as ‘Sir’.”
“Please, Sir, please stop, Sir. You can do anything else, Sir but not that.” I should have saved my breath.
“I’ll finish it off with soap and a razor later,” he went on, as if I had not said anything, “but this should teach you your position in life.” I was pretty mad at all this but there was not much I could do and by the time he had finished removing the hair from around my balls and cock (which was still betraying me by sticking up in his face as he worked), I had decided that a few weeks of discretion in the changing room would see me through. 
He dropped the clippers and, sticking his hand into his bag, produed a blond, female wig. It was ridiculously effeminate, like something out of Gone with the Wind. Totally prissy sissy in effect.
“No, you bastard, you can’t do that. This is ridiculous!” He grabbed hold of my head and rammed it into his leather encased crotch, silencing my pleas, and planted the wig on my head. 
“That’s better. You are looking really girly already. But we have to soften that face a little.” 
Makeup! And where on earth had a black stud like this learned to apply women’s makeup? Little did I know at that point that he was doing a lousy job of it and was transforming me into a slutty whore with deep blue eyeshadow, sloppily applied eyeliner and mascara – and the glossiest, most scarlet lipstick you could imagine.
“What do you say, sissy? Let’s hear you.”
Brokenly I replied, “Thank you, Sir.”
“Lick my boots, girl.” Obediently I bent head with the blond ringlets cascading around my face to his dusty boots and started licking the leather. And that effectively ended the first stage of my training.
And that was the easy part. Next out of the bag (and I was beginning to get worried about the contents of that bag) came a set of tit clamps connected by a chain. Had he set them on me when we started I believe I would have moaned and groaned because I was simply not used to such things. It’s amazing what a little humiliation does to the brain. I was in a mental state beyond resisting as the teeth bit into the virgin nipples and little more than a slight intake of breath escaped me. A hit of popper helped too and made me eager for what was to come.
“I’ll build these tits of yours up a bit, sissy, and maybe think about some nice implants and in a month or so I’ll get them pierced so you’ll know that you are owned. You want to be owned, don’t you, sissy?”
“Yes, Sir!” I said, firmly. At that moment I wanted it more than anything I could think of.
“Now, sissy, it’s time to punish you for resisting me. In future, you’ll do what your Master says without question, won’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“O.K. slave. Now let’s have you on your knees with your arse in the air.” I hurriedly complied. He stuck the popper under my nose and I took a big hit as he continued, “I’m going to beat you now for your disobedience and you are going to count the strokes and thank me for each one. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I was a wimp before I met him. I had gone to a liberal school where caning was not allowed so I wasn’t into reliving my school days or anything like that. The first stroke of his belt seemed to me then like the worst pain I’d ever felt but it wasn’t severe. I gasped with shock, nonetheless. And three blows had descended before I remembered that I was supposed to count them.
Or rather he reminded me. He stopped and said, “Right, sissy. We’ll start again. And this time, you’ll count and thank me.”
“Yes, Sir… One, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Waiting for the blow is worse than the blow itself I soon discovered. He did not beat me with a regular rhythm, nor did his belt always land on the same spot. And while I dreaded each blow, and my mind continued to worry about such things as whether my body would be marked or not, I found that the pain was greater. But then I discovered that, if I stopped anticipating where and when the belt would land, and simply accepted what was happening to me, when I reached that point of total submission, it just didn’t hurt. And a voice that didn’t sound like mine began to repeat over and over again like a mantra, “Beat me, Black Master. Beat me, Sir,” between counting and thanking him, of course.
I reached fifty before he dropped the belt. The bag again and I felt him lubing my arse which burned fiercely after the beating. Then his cock was pressing into my sphincter. I was amazed how easily it slipped in and then he was pumping me hard while he whispered in my ear, “Yeah, sissy, you love it, don’t you? You love having a black skinhead Master fucking your sissy pussy. Yeah, feel that cock up your poop chute. That’s your pussy, girl. I’m gonna train you up real good, girl. You’re gonna beg for it, sissy, you’re gonna beg your Master to whip you and fuck you and make you more of a girl than any girl you ever met. You are going dress nice for me, lots of sweet lacy things for my little girl, and you are gonna mince and lisp for me and beg for me and my black bros to use you…”
He came with a roar. I shot seconds later as he collapsed on top of me. Gently he withdrew and knelt in front of me. He raised my head and looked into my eyes which must have been glazed and focussing on something far distant and said, “You did well for a beginner, sissy.” The word seemed full of affection. Then he kissed me again and the kiss sealed it. I was his.
That was only the beginning of my transformation…
I was a romantic despite the cynicism I projected in my job. This tough black skinhead yob had abused me – he had shaved me, humiliated me and yet for the next week what I remembered most was the kiss. Sure, the abuse had touched something in me but until I had met him it was unacknowledged – something hidden deep in the dark places of my psyche where I was unwilling to go rummaging. He had brought them out to the light but I wasn’t ready to confront them yet, to see what place they might have in my life. Kissing was different – that I could relate to, that I felt was something I wanted more of. Especially with him, with my black working class thug and seducer.
I felt that the chemistry between us had been terrific, something exceptional. My head was way up in the clouds for days, dreaming of him, of being kissed again by him. After our impromptu session in the warehouse I just felt that of course he’d want to see me again and soon. I even imagined he’d come with me for a drink – somewhere far from where I lived because I couldn’t let my neighbours and the locals see me with someone so evidently rough and uncouth.
So I was waiting for him to make the invitation as I got dressed after that first meeting; but it didn’t come; he just looked at me insolently – almost with something like a sneer or with contempt. And I still hadn’t finished dressing when he turned on his heel and moved off. I called out after him, ‘Hey, just a minute!’ and he turned and looked at me, still with something that was halfway between amusement and scorn. I didn’t know what to say. He made me feel silly and kind of less of a man than he, and I was flustered. I was struck dumb and all I could do was pull out my wallet and give him my business card. He took it and looked at it as if it was something he had never seen before – maybe he hadn’t – turning it this way and that between his fingers as if he had no idea what this slender piece of card might be or what use it could possibly serve. For an awful moment I thought he was going to throw it away but he did finally slip it into his pocket and without a word walked off. Only then did I realise that I didn’t even know his name.
Getting the makeup off my face took for ever, seeing as I only had cold water and toilet paper to remove it. I wasn’t convinced I had managed it but by now night had been setting in and in the gloaming I was able to pass as I ran home.
Then – nothing. Silence. No phone calls. Part of me was relieved that this didn’t happen – what would I have said to my secretary when she fielded the call? She knew everything about me – or seemed to. She knew exactly what role every caller played in my life whether professionally or socially. But I would have thought of something, would have invented some excuse about a plumber or builder doing work on my fancy flat. But I had no need to invent because there was no call. I got angry – I was absurdly discomfited by having gone through something I saw as deeply intimate and deeply personal and deeply life-changing and that all of this seemed to mean nothing to this bastard. So he sissifies good-looking guys every day of the week? Beats them? Shaves them? Fucks them? Yes, all that and begins and ends with kisses? Deep male kisses, tongues exploring, flavours in mouths kisses? Anger was useless and got me nowhere. He still didn’t call and it didn’t help me forget about him. So I had to do something about this. I wasn’t just going to sit around and mope and feel sorry for myself; because the more I thought about it the more important it seemed – it wasn’t just about the kisses. It was something deeper. I had to explore it more. I just had to.
The one thing I was not taking on board was the feminisation and the way he had called me sissy all the time or girl. In fact, he just didn’t acknowledge any male aspect of me at all. So my mind turned away from this and concentrated solely on how deeply I felt attracted to him.
But what to do? I had stopped my run. I was afraid to do it, afraid of the catcalls and jeers that I had received before. Of course it was obvious what I had to do but pride held me back so it took a few weeks of stupid selfish egoism before I was prepared to accept that that approach was going to lead nowhere and that whether I lost face over this or not, if he told me to fuck off or worse ignored me, I had to go for what I needed, I had to make the run again. Changing into my running gear in the office I felt sick. I felt like abandoning the attempt and settling back to my old life. Three weeks had passed; my hair, had grown back somewhat. So mixed in with the fear of rejection was the fear that he would despise me for having changed the way I had looked. Maybe he would see it as having abandoned the changes he had wrought in me. But despite this surely he would know – just by the fact that I was resuming my old route home – that I needed him, that he had made an impact on me. But still the bigger fear was that I had made no impact on him at all.
So all of this was running crazily through my mind as I started my run home. Now, when I think back over all of this, I wonder at my arrogance – thinking that this guy should hang on after his mates had gone home, night after night, hoping for a glimpse of me. Why should he do this? Because I was such a stud was what I supposed, because I was a catch for him, someone he could never hope to meet otherwise. All that sort of rubbish was perhaps my answer – but you know I never really asked myself this or thought for a moment that he would not be there. Again it comes down to the significance of the initial meeting for me – it just had to be the same for him. It just had to be. So I rounded the corner, my heart in my mouth – and he was there, just as I had seen him on THAT evening, sitting on a low wall, smoking a cigarette, and, best of all, smiling broadly. I suddenly became shy as I slowed to a walk but held out a hand in greeting as I approached. He ignored it, chucked his cigarette away, stood up and entered the building. I followed him.
He didn’t look round but went to the same place as before. Now shut off from the outside world he turned to face me, still smiling. I moved towards him, ready for the embrace, ready to kiss that smoky mouth, to get my tongue inside it, to put my hands around his cropped head and rub my cheek against it. He slapped me, hard, across my face and before I could even cry out, backhanded me another. Then, taking advantage of my complete bewilderment, he punched me hard in the stomach. I doubled over and a hand chop to my neck brought me to my knees. That’s when he started kicking me with his Doc Marten’s. I cried out, as much in astonishment as in pain. I begged him to stop. I wanted to appeal to his better nature but not knowing his name I resorted to the only thing I had ever called him, ‘Sir’. And as soon as I did so, he stopped.
‘At last,’ he said, very calmly. His self-possession surprised me – for someone who seconds before had been kicking the shit out of me and giving every indication of being a vicious lout, he was suddenly very much in control of himself.
‘You really are a fucking useless piece of sissy shit, aren’t you? Did nothing I did to you have an effect on you?’ He ripped off my shorts. ‘a fucking jock strap! you have really disappointed me. I thought that AT THE LEAST you would have worn pretty sissy panties for me. Are you thick or something? Don’t you see I have no interest in some white boy stud? I want you as my sissy bitch, my little pet pansy or not at all. You think I should be bothered with a fucking fashion victim like you? Your idea of fashion has got to change, girl, before I nut in you again.’
I didn’t dare look at him. I just stared at his boots, worried that he’d start in on me with them again. I was curled up into a foetal ball. I could have straightened up but I was afraid to – not because it would have made my body vulnerable again but to conceal the enormous hard-on I was sporting through my jock strap. In fact I was hardly listening to him. I was so taken by surprise both by the unexpectedness of the attack but even more so by the undeniable fact that I was turned on. This guy treating me like shit turned me on.
‘Well?’ he continued. ‘Why should I be bothered with a sissy cunt like you who keeps me hanging around for weeks?’
‘But Sir,’ I protested feebly, ‘you have my work telephone number, you could have phoned me. I don’t even know your name, Sir.’
‘So I am supposed to go running after you? Who is the sissyslave around here, you or me?’
‘I didn’t know I was a slave, Sir,’ I replied.
‘Fucking hell’, he said and laughed. ‘Last time I saw you there was no fucking doubt about it then. Couldn’t get enough abuse, couldn’t get low enough, wanted to worship me, wanted to be changed, wanted to do anything. That right?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘OK, fucker, one last chance. You want to be my sissyslave then you come back here, same time, exactly one week from now. Understand?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘And remember, I want you as a sissy. I want you to look like a sissy whore.’
He kicked me one last time, on the backside, and left me lying there.
When I looked up, he had gone.
I was disappointed. I had gone through such a build-up in my mind, all that tossing and turning as to what I should do, how I could meet him again, what would happen when we did meet. Look, you have to understand that at that time I was used to getting my own way, having things on my terms.
After a few days I began to recognise that, far from being a disappointment, that second meeting had sharpened my appetite. I actually liked not having control, liked being told what to do. Also the fact that our one sexual meeting had little sex in it brought me face to face with what I had been avoiding. And that was, quite simply, that I also liked being treated like shit, I liked being abused and kicked and slapped around. This was hard for me to come to terms with, you know. It had been there through all my teen years and into my twenties but I wouldn’t confront it, wouldn’t look at it or acknowledge it. Now I had to. The truth was that I was beginning to identify with being a slave to a skinhead both from the physical and the mental points of view. 
Then there was his race. The fact that he was black made the abuse more thrilling. The idea of him getting revenge for the way his race had been treated for centuries by whites, the reversal of expected roles – this was definitely part of the attraction.
Then the sissy thing… I had never liked crossdressers, trannies, what ever you wanted to call them. I avoided drag shows and couldn’t understand why these were so popular with both straights and gays. Now I began to consider the idea what my antipathy was based on fear of a similar tendency in my self. It was difficult to unravel my feelings on this as it was so tied up with my need for humiliation. And it was on that level that I dimly began to recognise that I might begin to accept it.
Finally, I also knew for certain that I longed to escape from the boring, mundane, respectable life I was leading. I wanted to say, ‘Fuck you’ to the straight world I lived in. I had conformed too long. This tough, little black skinhead was offering me a way out and I was determined to go for it, no matter what I had to go through.
So the week that followed my second meeting was interminable; but it was useful too because it gave me a chance to come to terms with those things about myself that I had always run away from. And it led to a kind of recklessness to the extent that I was determined to show this cocky bastard that I was taking it seriously, that I did want to be what he wanted me to be.
But mostly I occupied myself with transforming myself. There were a number of problems with that. First and foremost, there was no way I was going to parade through the streets as a sissy. No matter what punishment he was going to inflict on me – and I was sure he would – I would only wear stuff under a tracksuit. Then there was the problem about what to get and where to get it. Time was of the essence so shopping on the internet was out. I did a bit of research about sizes and set off to a department store.
The shame of shopping for women’s lingerie was almost too much for me to bear. Everyone had to know who it was intended for just in term of sizes. There was NO WAY I would try anything on. I just had to hope for the best. Somehow I managed.
I bought… a black lacy bra, black panties, a black lacy garter belt with little straps, a red mini skirt, a black blouse, and red heeled shoes. About a four inch heel. I took them home. I stripped and put them on. I looked in a mirror. I was amazed by what looked back at me. Despite being wig-less and without makeup, I was …sexy. And my cock raised itself to a phenomenal hardness.
So, on the appointed day I took a long slow bath and shaved all my body below the ears. I put on my new outfit except the heels and covered it all with my track suit. And at the appointed time, I set off jauntily, confident, happy. A bit apprehensive because I knew that this cocky black bastard would have something up his sleeve that I couldn’t imagine but somehow I trusted him. Despite the fact that he had kicked me to bruising the last time I saw him I felt I was ready for him, ready and equal for whatever he might throw at me in the way of surprises. Well I was right – he did have a surprise up his sleeve. He was in his usual place, as usual smoking a cigarette, dressed as usual in his Fred Perry shirt, bleachers with white braces, tall DMs with white laces. He looked like a white power thug except for one obvious aspect of his look – the colour of his skin. He said not a word. Again he just flicked the cigarette away, stood up and moved inside, with me following lamely behind him.
We got to our usual place, the door was slightly ajar when, instead of pushing through, he suddenly stepped aside and said with mock courtesy, ‘After you, little lady’. In I went, like a lamb to the slaughter, he following me, so close behind me I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck. As I passed through the door his hands shot up and covered my eyes and mouth, other hands came from nowhere and grabbed me. Of course anyone’s first instinct is to struggle and struggle I did but it was useless – I was pinioned by the arms, the shoulders, the thighs, and the calves. I was immobile. Then the voice came to my ear.
‘Now this can be easy for you or it can be difficult. What is going to happen to you is going to happen to you one way or another. Make no mistake about that. Whether it is a struggle for you is up to you, you sissy cunt. Take it as it comes and it’ll go much more quickly and easily. Do you understand that?’ I nodded.
‘Now I am going to remove my hands from your eyes and mouth and I don’t expect a sound from you. Got that?’ Again I nodded. All the hands that held me were withdrawn, and finally the hand over my eyes drew back and I could see what was going on. I saw six black skinheads and one black girl. Somehow her presence made it worse… The guys were young, tough, hard, trying to look serious but I could see that laughter lay just behind the eyes – they were enjoying this. The one I thought of as my Master moved round to stand directly in front of me.
‘OK,’ he said softly, ‘you decided to come back. That’s good. But it’s the last decision you’ll be making for a while. Got that?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Louder.’
‘Yes, SIR!’
‘Now you want to be a sissy, don’t you, bitch?’
‘Yes, SIR!’
‘And you want to be a slave, don’t you, cunt?’
‘Yes, SIR!’
‘Well this evening your dreams come true. OK lads, let’s get started – there’s a lot to do.’
There was that bag again, the one that contained God knows what. First out of it was a pair of scissors. One of the blacks – a tall, lean guy with a ferret-like face, no looker that’s for sure but sexy for all that – pulled out a large pair of scissors. I almost shouted out, ‘But I have no hair except on my head and please leave that!’ but hair wasn’t what he had in mind. He caught hold of my expensive designer track suit top and cut it from top to bottom. A roar went up when they saw my flat chest boasting a lacy bra. Any tendency on my part to protest was instantly quelled by the look on my Master’s face. I kept my mouth shut as he continued to cut the pants in their turn, exposing garter belt, panties and stockings. Trainers were pulled off and the laces ritualistically cut. Socks too were chopped and rendered useless – and I was standing in women’s lingerie with a telltale erection.
A chair was pulled out and I was pushed down onto it and the girl took over as makeup artist. At least she seemed to know what she was doing.
I was naive enough to think that the makeup constituted the whole of my transformation but worse was to come. The sight of a needle was enough to bring out a spirit of rebellion in me and I confess I did make a dash for the door – only to be dragged back to the chair kicking and screaming. But as my Master had said, resistance was indeed useless and I saw that I really was powerless in this situation as I was firmly held while both nipples were pierced and rings inserted. Of course I cried out when the needle went through the nipple and I watched the bl**d trickle down my hairless chest and stomach.
Still, you’d think by now that I would have stopped fighting but when I suddenly understood that I was going to have a ring through my septum, a nose ring like a pig or a****l, I couldn’t take it. I screamed and screamed and writhed and twisted and they just let me get on with that until I had exhausted myself and then proceeded quite calmly to ring me. I was broken by now. I accepted it. It’s funny – there comes a point when you do accept that you really can do nothing to change events; everyone has a different breaking point I guess and the nose ring was mine. And then there’s a kind of peace – even the pain seemed to recede, things became dreamlike and drifting and all problems, thoughts of the future, even memories of the past, of what I had so recently been – all, just melted away.
After this, having the word ‘sissy’ tattooed on my upper left shoulder and ‘slave’ on my right was the least of my worries or problems. It was like an out of body experience. I saw the needle, I heard the buzz and hum, I watched bl**d and ink mingle with a kind of bemused detachment, as if it were happening to someone else, not to me at all. So there I was, naked, shaved, pierced, tattooed, made-up, dressed in lingerie. And to tell the truth, in a state of shock. It was all too much, too quick. I felt bewildered and not sure whether I should be laughing or crying – the emotions were all too complex for me. Yes, I was exhilarated because I had come round in my mind to accepting the need for change – I guess I had started on this path because deep down I hated the way I had been living my life. It had been so false. I had lived by other people’s rules, by the rules of the straight world I mixed in; there’s were the values I had subscribed to. A change was due.
But this change was so sudden and so drastic. I mean, I had yet to see myself in a mirror but I could easily imagine that the transformation was of such an order and to such an extent that my mother would have had to look twice – or three times – to recognise me. So when these guys had finished with me, when they stood back to admire their handiwork and I rose to my feet uncertainly, I could see that they were not sure how I would react, how I would behave. Up till now they had been so cocky, so assured and the whole thing had moved like clockwork as if they had rehearsed it. Now that it was done, they were suddenly quiet, almost abashed. I wouldn’t say ashamed – they were too confident in themselves and their identity for that. These cocky lads were looking at me to see how I would react.
I saw this, I noticed it, saw their uncertainty and I knew that I wanted to be one of them, wanted to be part of them, relate to them, accept their values, become one with them. I wanted to become a bitch, a slave, a whore, a sissy, for a gang of black guys. So despite the pain all over my body and in spite of my whirling mind, I smiled. I had to rise above the pain and even then I knew that pain would become so much a part of my life that I would really have to work on processing it.
Part of me resisted pain – that’s a human instinct after all; but part of me embraced it because it was intense, it proved I was feeling and reacting and alive. That I learned – keep hold of that thought and it’ll see you through, and that’s what I mean by processing pain. So the smile wasn’t false for all that I had to start it through an effort of will. And they started to laugh. And suddenly I was in the middle of them, being pushed around, roughed up in a way; but I was beyond feeling the minor pain that came from boots and fists. Now I knew that I was re-born, a new me emerging from all this pain and degradation and humiliation. I had a new identity. And just as a Christian is reborn with baptism so my black Masters baptised me in showers of piss. They formed a circle around me, opened the flies of their jeans and hosed me down and I put out my arms to it and welcomed it, bathed in it. Then my bag was opened and my blouse and mini skirt and heels were produced for me and, still wet with their piss, I put them on.
This is how I would look, this is how I would dress from now on. There was so much yet to come, so much to learn, before I would be a cocksucking sissy whore for black cock, welcoming huge black cocks as they fucked me. I had much to learn and a longer journey to go on. I looked at my black Master and then and only then did I get the deep kiss I had dreamed of from my him as he welcomed me to a new life. 
As to my job, my flat, my former friends, how did I deal with that? Well that, my friend, is another story…