Waifish Model on Page Fifty-three Ch.2
by Couture
(TG, MM, MC)
Please do not read if under 18 years of age or
offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.
(c) 2003 Couture
***********
I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and looked
at the cute brunette in front of me critically.
She wore white. White heels, white stockings, white
g-string panties, white lace corset. The corset was
tight and gave her an exaggerated hour-glass figure.
Her breasts were pushed up by the corset. Hair that
was short and dark, with bangs so long they had to be
constantly tucked behind her ears to keep them out of
her eyes.
The sight of her made my heart speed in my chest. I
couldn't help but want her. A woman that looked the
way she did had to know what men thought about when
they looked at her. A woman like that would should
have given me a hard on like you wouldn't believe.
Why was I crying? Because, the woman I was watching
wasn't in front of me at all. I was looking at a
mirror. The woman was me.
The erection I should be having? The thought made me
cry even harder. My cock was collared and wouldn't
get erect even if I stopped taking the pills that
bastard Phil was feeding me daily.
Phil, the bastard, he had caught me with his wife and
sought revenge. Instead of punching me out like a
real man, he had somehow got inside my head and made
me do things - things that transformed me into the
feminine creature I now was. Then he offered me a
deal.
Be his wife for a year. A year and then I was free.
I agreed. What choice did I have?
And tonight? Tonight was our wedding night and I was
the blushing bride. Phil decided to save money, so he
cut out the whole wedding ceremony. (Not that I
minded in the least.)
We went straight to Vegas for the honeymoon. Oh yeah,
and I was the blushing bride. And why was I blushing?
I was the bride sans dress.
"They cost too much and it ain't like you can wear it
again," Phil had said.
He was impossible to argue with. His powers over me
were like a God. "Yes, daddy," I replied.
I looked back in the mirror. Shit, my bangs had
fallen in my face again. I hated them. I hated
looking so cute.
I tucked the stray hair behind my ear and then I tried
to smooth down my nipples. I didn't want Phil
thinking I was turned on. I wasn't. I was only
scared, and though Vegas was hot, the room was cold.
There was a knock on the door that made me start.
Thankfully, it wasn't on the bathroom door. It would
probably be room service. Anyway, Phil was in the
room, I hoped he would get it instead of embarrassing
me further.
My hands were shaking and time was running out. I
tried to think of someway to get out of my situation,
but it was useless. He had me. And tonight, tonight
I had a feeling Phil would want more than the blowjobs
I had been giving him since he took me from the
clinic.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. My heart
pounded and wouldn't stop.
"Just a minute more Daddy," I said, voice trembling.
"I'm not quite finished."
"It's time Chrissie," he said. "Get your hot little
ass out here."
He could get inside my head and make me open the door
if he wanted. I wouldn't let that happen again if I
could help it; the sadistic bastard always punished me
when he did. Rather, he made me do the punishing. If
I was going to do it, I was going to do it walking
like a man . . . in heels that is.
"Yes, daddy," I said meekly as I exited. I gasped
when I saw the bellboy standing there, eyes gaping,
staring at my chest.
Breasts. . . my breasts! I kept forgetting. My hands
flew up to cover my nakedness.
Phil took my wrist and easily forced my hand down.
"Don't you start being modest now, you were the one
who wanted to get married in your undies," he laughed.
The liar! He was the one who had sent me into the
bathroom with nothing but panties, stockings, garters,
and heels.
He shrugged his shoulders at the bellhop. "Women. .
." he said conspiratorially. "Come on, let's do it on
the balcony."
Phil slid open the glass door and led me out onto the
balcony. My heart was racing. I felt like I was out
of breath. What did he want to do on the balcony?
Why was the bellhop there?
Out on the balcony, Phil pulled me close and
whispered. "You better smile and act the part or
you're gonna find yourself giving blowjobs to every
salesmen at the bar."
It would be preferable to blowing you, asshole. But,
I dared not utter those words. If he wanted, not only
would I blow them, I would blow him as well, and there
was nothing I could do to stop it. "Yes, daddy," I
said, and shivered from the night air or perhaps his
chilling words. I hated calling him that, but that
was one of the few rules he had given me. Rules I had
learned to obey by painful example.
"Okay, let's do this," he said to the bellboy, handing
him a piece of paper, a camera, and two twenties.
The bellboy pocketed the cash and looked at the paper.
"Do you Chrissie take Phil Barnes as your husband, to
love honor and obey?"
The bellboy looked at me with a smirk. He was staring
at my breasts. I was a size 32A. Not the size to
inspire awe, only enough to be rewarded with a knowing
smirk. Phil grinned a shit-eaten grin, leering at me,
surely knowing what must be going through my mind.
"I do," I replied meekly.
"And do you Phil, promise to ahh . . ." The bellboy
looked down at the paper and narrowed his eyes, just
to be sure he was reading it properly. "To ah- *take*
Chrissie?"
Phil chuckled. The bastard. "You bet."
"You may now kiss the bride."
Phil grabbed me and kissed me deeply before I even
knew what was going on. I didn't even have time to
think about it as I kissed a man for the first time.
He put his hand down my panties and groped my ass.
I saw the flash of the camera from my closed eyelids.
Phil pulled away.
"Lock the door behind you," he told the bellboy. "And
leave the camera on the dresser."
I heard the glass doors slide shut. My knees were
weak. I wasn't ready for this. I don't think I would
ever be ready. "Please Phil. Please don't make me do
this."
He spun me around and pushed me against the balcony.
I looked down seven stories and the world began to
spin. I was afraid of heights.
"What did you call me?" he hissed, pushing my torso
over the balcony. Shit I had called him Phil. I had
broken a rule.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Daddy." I begged. "Oh God,
please Daddy, don't hurt me, I'm scared."
"Wedding jitters, huh? Well, just be a good girl and
there's nothing to be afraid of." He pushed my legs
apart. I felt a finger sneak into my panties and prod
my hole. There was nothing I could do. With the
ground three stories below and Phil behind me, I was
caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Owww!
Jesus the friction from his callused finger burned
like mad.
"Ouch." I tried to pull away, but couldn't.
"Does it hurt?" He kept poking.
"Yes."
"Then be a good little wifie and say, please Sweetie,
be gentle with my cherry."
His finger was like sandpaper and he knew it. He was
trying to humiliate me. A few people by the pool were
now openly staring at me. Luckily, only my head was
visible.
"Please Sweetie, please be gentle with my cherry," I
whispered.
"I didn't hear you." He pushed his finger in and
twisted.
"Ouch!" I winced, my pride rapidly dwindling.
"Please Sweetie, be gentle with my cherry." I
shuddered, knowing the people below must have heard
me.
"That's real good. Uh-huh, and it looks like you are
starting to attract a crowd." He tapped my arsehole
again. Not hurting it, just letting me know he could
if he wanted to. "What was this again?"
"My cherry." I said it loudly enough to be overheard
again.
Thankfully, the finger was removed, but it soon
returned. This time it was cold and slick. It
slipped past my tight defenses, and pressed inside me.
"There," Phil said, moving his finger in and out,
fucking me with it. "That's not so bad is it?"
"Please Phil," I whispered. "Don't make me do this.
I'm not gay."
"Of course not," he said, causing my heart to leap
with new hope, only to dash it away. "You're a
married woman. It's okay for us to fuck now."
"But - ugh-" I grunted as his finger burrowed in me to
the knuckle. "I don't want to."
"God, you're tight," Phil said, as he removed his
finger. "I can't wait to feel you around my fucking
cock." His hands grasped my hips and I felt the head
of his cock nestled between the cheeks of my bottom.
Involuntarily clenching my arse, I moved closer to the
railing.
"Please. . . ," I begged. "Please don't."
"Kinky slut," he said, prodding me with his dick,
pushing me forward even more. "Gonna give them all a
show huh?"
Several people pointed at me and I realized my breasts
were uncovered. I tried to cover them with my hands,
but that gave me no leverage to keep from being pushed
further toward the rail. I could feel his dick
penetrating me and there was nothing I could do about
it. I could barely stand and the high heel shoes I
was wearing didn't help a bit.
I hated this part of my transformation the most- being
so weak. "Please Phil, I'm going to fall," I whined.
Tears welled in my eyes.
"Then grab the fucking rail."
"But my breasts . . ."
"Those aren't breasts, just little bee-stings.
Somebody tell me why did it have to be page fifty-
eight?"
My face flushed with embarrassment. I hated my
breasts too. As strange as it sounds, I wanted them
bigger. Phil's one big rule was to never let anyone
discover I was a man or I'd find myself working as a
whore, strung out on drugs. I could forget about the
year's service, it would be that way for *life*.
Anyway, small breasts attract the wrong sort of
attention when you are someone like me.
"Maybe you should ask me to cover them for you," Phil
whispered.
At last a good idea and while he went to get a top for
me or at least a bra, I could get off the balcony and
collect my thoughts, maybe even persuade him not to do
this.
"Please Sweetie," I gasped. "Would you get me
something to cover my breasts with?"
His hands moved from my hips, along my sides, and
grabbed my wrists. I struggled briefly as he sought
to pull my hands away from my breasts, but he was
stronger. Down below, everyone stared at my lewd
display. Phil placed my hands on the rail and used
his on to cover my breasts. Not quite what I had in
mind, but at least I was covered.
"Here it comes baby," he said, and pushed his hips
forward.
Christ, his penis hurt! It opened me, it kept
penetrated me and there was nothing I could do about
it. I grimaced in pain, giving a long and drawn out,
"Owww fuck. . ." The people watched below. To them I
was a girl being fucked - a virgin being taken on her
honeymoon. But inside, I was a heterosexual male; my
body feminized and chastised, taken from behind by
another man. Ugh- Oh God, a large man. A large
sadistic black man.
"Just relax and go with it," he whispered thickly in
my ear. But it was impossible. With something that
big invading your ass, the body's reaction is to
clench. I couldn't overcome it and each time I
clenched, it hurt even more.
But he never stopped. Monster! In fact, he lurched
faster and faster. His fingers played with my
nipples, tugging and tweaking the hardened nubs. They
hurt and my ass burned with pain.
"Play with your clit," he said. "It will help."
At that point, I would do anything to lessen the pain,
even play with myself for this bastard. I reached my
hand down and attempted to tug on my collared cock.
"Ouch!" I cried, as he viciously tweaked my nipples.
"Girls don't tug," he said. "Girls finger. Up and
down and around and around in little circles."
Evil bastard. He got off on robbing me of every last
strip of my masculinity. But, hell I gave up, I
starting stroking myself. Anything to take my mind
off the pain. I followed orders and did my best to
imitate what I remembered from watching women pleasure
themselves. While I couldn't get an erection, I found
that I could still feel pleasure and soon the pleasure
grew, emanating from my groin and moving to my newly
acquired sensitive nipples and even to my ass. I
tried my best to resist, but my body betrayed me by
pushing back against him, gasping and grunting as he
took me. The bell attached to the ring on my cock
jingled faster and faster.
There I was on the balcony of a large hotel in Vegas
in broad daylight, moaning and groaning while a large
black man was taking my ass while clutching my
breasts. To anyone looking, I was a thin blonde girl,
clearly enjoying what was happening to her on her
wedding night. Not just enjoying it, but getting
ready to orgasm. Little did they know how much I
desired *not* to orgasm. Not like this. And
certainly not for *him*.
Oh, but no matter what I desired, my body had other
ideas. It wanted it. It needed it.
"I feel you getting tighter baby girl," he laughed.
"You're loving this, aren't you?"
"No," I grunted. But, the truth was, it did feel good
in some sick way.
"You're lying," he said, grabbing my hand, pulling it
away from my collared cock, and forcing it back to the
handrail. "But anyway, let's talk about something for
a minute."
God, there I was, penetrated from the rear, nearly
naked and on display to the people watching from the
pool. How could he want to talk at a time like this?
My cheeks burned with humiliation. "Please," I
begged.
"You want some more of this, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted, with tears flowing from my eyes. I
didn't want to be fucked; I only wanted to go back
inside. I only wanted my life back.
"You're doing a pretty good job of keeping up with
your marriage vows so far," he said. "At least the
obey part. But what about the honor part? Huh?"
"I don't know." I just wanted back in to the bedroom.
"What do you want me to do?"
"You're trying to obey again. To honor, you have to
think for yourself. Now, I'm gonna finish fucking
your tight little puss, but if you want to cum to, you
need to think of a way to honor me."
And he started fucking me again and as much as I
wanted to just let him finish using me, deep inside, I
knew I needed to cum too. It had been weeks and by
now I was desperate. I didn't want to give him the
satisfaction, but I could feel his cock grow longer
and harder. Oh, that black bastard, he was going to
cum regardless. My resistance and pride crumbled.
"Daddy," I grunted, whispering as he fucked me. "I do
honor you. Please let me cum."
"So you are proud of me? Of your marriage? Of
getting your cherry busted? You don't act proud to
me. Stuck up bitch. You act ashamed."
I was ashamed. Deeply ashamed. I wasn't a girl, but
a guy. I wasn't supposed to be the one getting
fucked. I looked down at the people below. They were
still staring, wondering what was going on up here,
wondering who was fucking me, wondering what kind of
girl would let someone do this to her. My cheeks and
ears burned with the fire of humiliation. I couldn't
bear to do it, but I did it anyway. I honored him the
only way I knew how.
"Oh yes, Daddy," I cried. "That's it. Pop my cherry.
Make me your wife." I was dirt. No, I was lower than
dirt. I was an earthworm that lived beneath a pig's
sty.
"That's it bitch, honor me," he said. "Go ahead and
ugh - ugh -play with your clit, but you better hurry.
I'm ah- ready to cum. Fuck if I ain't ready."
He didn't have to tell me twice. My hand flew down.
It was a blur as I fingered my cock through my
panties, making quick circles.
His hands left my breasts and grabbed my hips, as he
pounded into me. I wanted to cover them from the
leering gaze of the onlookers below, at least my
tender nips, but all I could do was hold on tight to
the rail and absorb the force of his body colliding
with my own. The sound of our bodies slapping
together was so loud that it drowned out the ringing
bell that was mounted to my collared cock. There was
no way the people staring didn't know what was
happening. Suddenly, I felt a wrenching surge of
pleasure and the pressure in my cock grew as I
struggled to cum against the ring that bound me. My
cock glowed with pleasure. I came but not like I used
to. Instead of my passion peeking in spurts, it just
sort of flowed from me. I cried out as my ass
spasmed. Cried so loud that the people down at the
pool started pointing, mothers hustled their children
back inside, hand over their young eyes. But at the
moment I didn't care. I had experienced release -
glorious sweet release. I felt the cock in my ass
swell and then, he must have cum too because it was
sliding quite easily now. He thrust hard several more
times and then he finally slowed.
"Ah . . ." Phil sighed, letting go of my hips. I slid
down to my knees on the concrete floor of the balcony.
"Shit, you a good lay," Phil said, as he grabbed my
nose and pulled me face first toward his filthy cock.
What the fuck was he doing? Surely he didn't expect.
. . Oh God no!
He continued pulling my nose, relentlessly moving me
closer to his cock. A cock made dirty by my ass and
his congealing filthy juice.
"Stop," I said through clenched teeth. "You're
dirty."
"Think of it as a reminder to keep your self clean for
me," he said dryly. "Now do it, or you'll be down at
the bar hustling your ass to convention goers."
"Plea-mmphh" I tried to beg, but he ignored me,
thrusting into my mouth. It was horrible. I wanted
to wretch, but I somehow managed to finish.
"Good girl," he smiled down at me and tussled my hair.
"Why don't you make yourself pretty for me? Be sure
to use some mouthwash, and then maybe we can go down
and do some gambling."
At that point, anything would be better than what had
just happened to me. I gladly went downstairs to the
casino with him. I never got to gamble. Just blow on
his dice. In three days, he took me countless times,
in more ways than I could have imagined.
And that is the story of how I spent my honeymoon with
my enemy, my kidnapper, the black bastard who was now
. . . my husband.
To be continued. . .
*******
If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the
author. Your comments are their only payment.
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author
unless explicitly indicated.
