Waifish Model on Page Fifty-three Ch.1 Copyright 2003 by Couture We lay curled up to one another in the hotel bed, Sandra and I. I looked forward to the day we'd no longer have to make do with hotel beds and the occasional foray to my apartment. Yes, one day soon, she would leave her bastard of a husband and move in with me. God, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was mussed up, as she lay on the pillow. Her face had the tranquil look that only comes during sleep. She looked like an angel. I kissed her forehead and went to whisper, "I love you," in her ear. What came out was, "You're nothing but a whore Sandra. A piece of shit cheating whore!" Where did that come from? I would never say anything like that. It was my voice, but the accent was different. "What?" She sat up in the bed suddenly. Her eyes welled with tears. Why was she crying? She knew I'd never hurt her. I went to apologize, but again, I lost control of my tongue. "You heard me," I said. "You're a whore. A two dollar piece of shit. You've just been a hole for me to rest my dick, but you're all played out." "Y-you said you loved me." She pulled the bedspread tightly around her body and got out of bed, searching for her discarded clothes. "We made plans." "I used you," I said. It was my voice, but it wasn't me. I could never sound that uncaring. "It was fun, but now it's done." Her hurt look changed to anger. "Y-y-you bastard!" She pulled her dress on and stepped into her heels. "Y-y-y-you s-s-stupid re-re-retard." I mimicked as the door slammed. I sat there alone and in shock. What the hell just happened? It was as if I was a prisoner in my own body. The last few weeks had been weird. There had been blackouts, but nothing like this. Was I going insane? "Ha-ha-ha," I laughed a dryly. "God, this is gonna to be fun. . ." *********** I got the hell out of there. I would try to apologize to Sandra later, but first I had to figure out what was wrong with me. I needed to make an appointment to see my doctor. Was this some form of Tourettes? However, instead of driving home, I turned off at the mall. The problem was; I didn't want to go to the mall. I had once again become a bystander in my own body. It was even worse than at the hotel room. I stopped at the bank and emptied my accounts. And somehow my savings balance had about three times more money in it than it should have. I would have been startled, but honestly, I was numb to everything by this point. Then I went to the lingerie store and I bought a lot of things. I even tried the stuff on. Dear God, I even told the sales girl I was buying it for myself. I tried to stop myself, but I had no control over myself or even the blush that burned in my cheeks. Next, I bought dresses, make-up, had my ears pierced, and visited a hairstylist for a feminine cut. Lord, I even had my nails done. Whoever or whatever control me was exacting a full measure of revenge. By the time I was finished, I was two- thousand dollars poorer and looked like the biggest fag in the city. Yet, I still had over a hundred and fifty thousand from the bank stuffed in my purse. When I finally got control of my body again, I drove straight home. I was in a state of shock. I just wanted to lie down, wake up and this bad dream be over. Instead, I took a bath. Well, I didn't, but whatever or whoever that controlled me did. I even shaved off all of my body hair. After I dried, I put on some of the clothes I bought at the mall. The women's clothes. Then I packed the rest away into a suitcase. I stood in front of the mirror and smiled. I looked like a whore. My lips pursed and blew myself a kiss. "Fasten your seat belts Davie, this is where it gets good," I said to myself. Then I was sure of it. There was some entity and somehow it had control of me . . . totally. I went outside and picked up the lighter fluid from my grill and poured it all over the floor. "Please stop, please stop. I'll do anything, I begged silently, unable to so much as move my lips. Then I called a cab. When the cab arrived, I put my bag clothes in. "Wait here sweetie," I told the cabbie. "I forgot my tampax." I went back inside and lit the lighter fluid, then high-tailed it back to the car. "I want to go to 1105 Manilla Ave," I told the cabbie. "Please hurry sugar, I'm running late." Behind us, the smoke rose. I wanted to do anything, but I couldn't even scream. I was a prisoner within my own body. When we arrived at our destination, I got my bags from the car and entered the building I had never seen before in my life. Once I was inside, I could tell it was some sort of medical facility based on how some of the women were dressed. I went to the receptionist. "Hi, my name is Chrissy. I'm here for my appointment." "Sure, have a seat," she said. "We'll be with you in just a moment." I went to the waiting room, picked up a Vogue magazine, and popped a piece of gum in my mouth. "Eenie-meenie-miny-moe, you're gonna be a pretty ho'" I said, inserting a fingernail about mid-way in the magazine and opening it up to pages fifty-seven and fifty-eight. I'll always remember that page and the picture of the skinny dark- haired model walking down the runway. She had a stick figure, long legs that went straight down. The thin fabric of the dress was transparent, drawing my gaze to the dark pink nipples atop her fledgling breasts. Her face was pretty, but she had a body that was designed for fashion designers, not men. My mind was racing. What was going on? What did the voice that was speaking with my lips mean? I should be trembling in fear, but instead my foot idly bobbed the heel I was wearing up and down. I casually blew a bubble and popped it. "The doctor will see you now," the nurse said, helping me to my feet by my arm. "Don't worry about the bags honey, we'll see to them." I took the magazine in with me to the doctor's office. I prayed the doctor would be able to shed some light on whatever condition was affecting me. The doctor was an older woman - petite with graying hair. She looked very professional. "Hi," she said, shaking my hand. "I'm Dr. Adams and you must be Chrissie." "Yes, ma'am," I said, while inside I screamed, 'No! No! My name is David. Please help me!' "Pleased to finally meet you. I really had no idea what to expect from talking with you over the phone." I never talked with you before, I wanted to scream. Instead, I said, "Well, can you help me?" "I think we can. What is it exactly that I can do for you?" You can help me get control of my body again. I handed her the magazine. "Can you do that?" She looked at it critically for a moment, picked up a pen, walked over to me, and began to draw on my face. After a moment, she said, "I think we can come pretty close. But are you sure about this, yes? You are certain?" "Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm certain." She frowned. "This is really not typical. There's supposed to be a wait. . . and counseling." "Will this change your mind?" I opened my bag and showed her the money. She counted out the money I gave her and put it in her desk drawer. "Are you certain? "I'm positively positive." "Okay, let's do this then." She turned and called a nurse on the phone. What's happening to me! I tried to scream but nothing came out. Instead, I meekly put on the hospital gown, took a sedative from the nurse, and was laid down on bed. Shortly, I was wheeled into the operating room. Don't do this! Don't do this! Whatever you are doing, please don't do this! But my lips didn't move. The doctor held the mask above my mouth. "Are you certain?" she asked. "Do it," I replied. "Count backwards from a hundred," she said, as she placed the mask on my mouth. There was an evil laugh, and the strangest thing . . . it was coming from me. ********** When I woke up, I was still hearing the laugh, only this time I realized it wasn't me laughing. "Ugh" I groaned as I tried to sit up. Instead, I puked. A plastic container was thrust into my hands "That's it Dave, let it all come out," someone said. I recognized the voice. At least I thought I did, but I had only heard it a couple of times before. Yet, there it was and I couldn't deny it. It was Sandra's husband Phil! "What's happening to me?" I asked. I couldn't see and I hurt all over. "You've just had surgery, so don't try to move. You also have bandages over your eyes." Was it all a bad dream? How much was real? "Something is wrong. I can't control my body?" I croaked hoarsely. I tried to clear my throat, but couldn't. "What are you talking about?" Phil asked. "It must be the drugs." "C-can I go home?" "Sure. Let me get your stuff and then we'll go." The nurse at the front desk tried to stop us, but I signed myself out. I just wanted to get home where things would get back to normal. But, when I got to the car my head started to clear. I realized I probably should have stayed at the hospital. I was effectively blind and there was no way I could take care of myself in the shape I was in and the last thing I needed to do was to leave with the husband of the wife I had been screwing, I don't care how rational he seemed. "Phil," I said. "I better go back in." "I'm afraid that isn't an option anymore Chrissie. It never was." He chuckled. Chrissie? What was going on? What had happened? "Wait. Let me out. Let me out right now." I tried to shout, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. He grabbed my head and pushed against me lips. The pain was incredible. Something had been done to them in the clinic. I was quickly reduced to sobs. "Are you going to be nice," he said. I had no choice but to follow his directions. I nodded my head. "Good." He drove me and I had no idea where we ended up. I found out later. It was back to his house, down to the basement. I was crying and sobbing in fear. At least I was able to cry and sob in fear. As long as I could control myself, there was hope. "You'll only be secured while you heal," he said, while he cuffed me to the bed. "After that, I'll let you go." "Please let me go. Please don't hurt me. I'll never see Sandra again. You'll never see me again. . . EVER." God, how I meant it. I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. "Here," he said. "Let's put these heels on you. Don't you like pretty heels? And then you'll have to be quiet and be nice, otherwise things will go very bad for you." How could someone who sounded so calm and rational kidnap and abuse me as he had? The calmness scared me and I believed every word he said. Bad for me? I had no idea what it meant, and I had no intention of finding out. Several times during the next few weeks I spent in the basement, whenever he left for work, I tried to scream and shout to get someone to hear me, but all that earned me was a gag shaped like a small penis jammed into my mouth the next day. "Just be patient, you don't have but a few more days before I let you go," he said calmly. By the end of the three weeks, I had some idea what was happening, but I wasn't sure quite how far things had gone. I must have had some cosmetic surgery at the clinic and he was feeding me a daily dose of pills. I think he might have been tranquilizing me too. He was obviously paying me back for what I did to his wife. "Today's the day," Phil said. "Are you ready?" "Phil, please . . ." My voice had gradually turned higher. My voice had changed through my ordeal and it was hard to reason with someone when your voice was so high, especially when you weren't used to it. I felt him moving the gown away from my crotch. "Phil, please," let's be reasonable. "I'll pay you anything you want." Jesus, what was he going to do? "I'm afraid you are about out of money Chrissie," he said. "So I think we are going to have to make other arrangements." He grabbed my penis. "Hold still, this might hurt a bit." I struggled weakly against him. What was he, some sort of queer? Or worse, did he plan to emasculate me in revenge? "Please don't-aaaaaaahhhh," I cried. The pain was sharp, but centralized. I still had my dick. "Aahhh-gggoood-jesus, that hurts." I felt something push in and secured around my cock. "That takes care of that bit. Now let's see what's underneath." He cut off the bandages and helped me walk to a mirror. I was weak from inactivity. The image that greeted me was a shock. I cried out in shock. I was black and blue and there were multiple scars. And the face, the body, they weren't even mine. They belonged to the girl from the magazine! I looked very much like her. The only difference . . . I had a penis. A penis that had a silver band around it from which hung a tiny bell. But everything else, from the pixy nose, the high cheekbones, the full mouth, the breasts, the sculpted abs, down to my firm bottom, was most definitely female. "A little bruising," he said, "But on the whole Chrissie, I would say you're looking pretty good." The bastard cupped my ass. "Except for the breasts that is. Jeez, why couldn't it have been a swimsuit model?" "Stop it." I pulled away from him. "Don't come near me you bastard. I mean it." He smiled and sat down by the dresser. "You know Chrissie, the whole time you were with my wife, I wanted you dead. When she wasn't here where she was supposed to be, I would sit on the sofa and think about her. I would wonder who my little bitch was fucking when she should be keeping me happy and my house cleaned. With all my being I wished I could see what she was doing. . . who she was doing. Then one time, my wish came true. I saw her. But what I wanted to see was who she was fucking. I couldn't because you know how I saw her? I saw you fucking her from your very own eyes. I didn't believe it at first, but I discovered I could do it - look through your eyes at will. Not a good thing . . . being able to see another man screwing your wife, but then one day I discovered that not only could I see through your eyes . . . heh heh heh, I could make you do things." He was crazy. A lunatic. I backed to the door. Just a little further and I would make my break. He closed his eyes, as I reached for the knob. Then I calmly walked back over to him. I didn't want to. I wanted to run. The bastard was doing it. He really could control me. I struggled to take back control, even as I knelt in front of him. Even as my hands reached for his zipper and freed his large black cock. I finally got control of my body and pulled my hand off his cock hardening manhood. I had been giving him a handjob. "You faggot. You sick fucker," I accused. "Faggot?" He laughed. "I'm not the one giving out handjobs." "You made me do it. You did it to yourself." "If you say so Sissy Chrissie. By the way, is it okay if I call you Sissy-Chrissie?" "Oh yeah stud," I replied in a breathy voice, once again taking his cock in my hand and stroking it. "What else would you call a sissy like me?" "Maybe fucktoy," he said, and I had control back again. I snatched my hand back off his cock. "Awww, that was feeling so nice Sissy." He grabbed my by the ear and tugged my face up. "Now I'm only gonna 'splain this once. You cost me my last wife, even though she wasn't much of one anyway. Now she's gone and yer gonna take her place whether you like it or not. Yer gonna cook. Yer gonna clean. And yer keep me satisfied like a good little wifie should. Yer gonna do everything I say for a year and then I'll let you go back to being good ol' Dave. Otherwise, I'll grab your mind and do nasty things like this. He closed his eyes and I grasped the silver collar around my penis. I tugged it and splitting pain shot up my spine. "Arggg! Oh God please," I begged, when I could speak again. The monster opened his dark menacing eyes. "And that was only a taste. I could make you cut it off you know. I could make you go downtown and turn yourself over to a pimp. Make you take herion. I could even make you kill yourself, but that doesn't sound like it's as much fun. So let's try again. Chrissie, it really felt nice when you were stroking my cock." This time he didn't enter my mind and force me, but the threat was there. Either he would make me and do worse, or I would do it by choice. I took a deep breath, grabbed the bastard's cock and stroked it. Never in a million years would I ever have imagined I would have another man's cock in my hand. It was hard and throbbed. It was damp with sweat. The piercing in my cock throbbed in pain. Arousal was the furthest thought from my mind. "That's nice Chrissie. A little faster please and cup my balls. You know how this is done, don't you, you stupid little bimbo." He closed his eyes again. I grabbed the collar on my cock and tugged again. Pain shot out from my cock and wracked my whole body. I squealed and tears streamed from my eyes. When I had control over myself again, I cupped his balls as I stroked him with my now quivering hands. I rolled them around in my hand like some of my better lovers had done for me. "Now say, Daddy, Sissy-Chrissie is sorry for being such a stupid little bimbo." "D-daddy, S-Sissy-Chrissie is s-sorry for b-being such a -s-s-tupid little bimbo." I knew why Sandra hated this bastard so much. He was one evil motherfucker. But Sandra could leave and I could not. The bastard owned me for a year. And if this was any indication, it was going to be a very long year. "Don't pout so Sissy-Chrissie. I think even a dumb little cheating bimbo like you can think of a better use for those pouting lips, can't you?" I stared in disbelief. Surely he wouldn't. I shook my head. No -no - no. "When I ask Sissy question, Sissy is always to answer." He closed his eyes. No I couldn't bear it. Not another tug. I tried to fight him but it was useless. My hand reached down, grabbed the piercing and tugged. Pain wracked my body and I screamed. "S-sissy-C-chrissie can think of a better use for her lips," I forced out. "That's much better, but in the future use smaller words and sound excited. Bimbos really shouldn't try to pretend they are smart. So what Daddy's little bimbo like to do with her lips?" Tears streamed down my eyes. Not only of pain but from his twisted humiliation. There was no escape from this evil bastard. He could get into my very own mind. I tried to think of a way to reason with him, but he closed his eyes. No, I couldn't take it again. I couldn't allow him to make me pull on the piercing. "Sissy Chrissie wants to suck your cock," I burst out, before he could make me hurt myself again. "My-my maybe Sissy's got a little brain tucked away in that vacant head of hers," he chuckled. "Go on. *Do it.*" I took his cock and guided it close to my mouth, but stopped just short of my lips. I could smell the heavy scent of his sex. It was nothing like that of a woman. I wondered if I could I really do this? What choice did I have? But-but-there was only one detail that nagged at my mind like a prickly thorn. "Will Daddy really let Sissy-Chrissie go after a year?" I had to know. I just had to. A year. A year I could take. Perhaps. . . "Only a year, my stupid little fucktoy. In case you don't know, that's three hundred and sixty-five days. And that's three hundred and sixty-five days Sissy- slut has to wear a collar on her clitty. That should keep her from fucking around . . . should keep her from getting cocky, cause Daddy has all the cock she needs. Now start to work you little cocksucker, before Daddy gets mad." His cock was much larger than mine, I realized as I moved closer. I slid the mushroom like purple head into my mouth and sucked. It tasted partially of sweat and there was a hint of something more bitter. Dear God, it was official, I was now a cocksucker. He pulled me off by my hair. "You take the cake for stupidity. Even the dumbest slut knows ya' gotta lick it first." Bastard. Didn't he know how hard this was for me? "I'm sorry," I muttered. He grabbed my nose and pinched. "Not I, Sissie-Chrissie can't help being such a stupid bimbo. Now, say it and lick my balls." Sick fuck! This was going to be hell. The longest year of my life. "S-sissie- Chrissie can't-can't help being such a stupid bimbo." I licked his balls. They tasted even more salty than his cock. Only one of the women I had dated had ever done that for me. She was a slut - what I called easy at the time. I guess I was too. There was no way to escape it. At least for a year. I licked my way up his shaft, pulled his foreskin back and licked the head. I wanted to puke. My distaste had to be written all over my face. "Mmmm-that's nice," Phil said. "I guess you know how to do something right." I began to move up and down his shaft, sucking him, wanting to puke. I hated it. I hated him. I massaged his balls. I just wanted him to cum as quickly as possible, so I could it over with. He reached down and pinched one of my already sore nipples. I squealed around his cock. "That's better. Let me hear some noises and slurping. Daddy's getting real tired of havin' to tell his little fucktoy to do everything." I moaned. I slurped. I bobbed faster and faster. I could feel his prick growing larger and harder. His balls drew up. God he was large. His cock stretched my lips and banged against the back of my throat. I kept a hand around his shaft to keep from choking. It pulsed in my mouth. "Ugh," he grunted and I felt the first spurt in the back of my mouth. I tried to pull off, but he held me fast. "You know better," he groaned, his cock spurting again and again. "Suck . . .suck . . .ahhh suck it all." I kept sucking until he was spent. The flavor was horrible. I wanted to gag. Instead, I swallowed. I knew I had to. Finally, when it was over, he let go of my head so I could lift up. "Now, lick it clean," he said. I thought about rebelling, but he closed his eyes, which probably meant that he was going to punish me if I refused. I steeled myself and began lapping at his cock. The cum was sticky and it was harder than I imagined to clean the congealed cum from his cock. "That was real nice Chrissie, but I had to tell you to do everything. You're going to be my little wifie for a year. That means you are supposed to volunteer to do nice things to please me. And you're gonna hafta start smiling and acting like you enjoy it . . . just like a real wife." "Yes Daddy." I managed to force a smile to my lips and wiped the tears from my eyes. It was going to be a long year. To be continued. . .
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.
Waifish Model on Page Fifty-three by Couture email: couture_writes@hotmail.com (TG, MM, MC) Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations. (c) 2003 Couture *********** When we got back home, the honeymoon was over. He even told me so. He had come home from work and by the look in his eyes, he was furious. "Okay little girl," he said, walking toward me, a looped leather belt swinging menacingly from his hand. "The honeymoon is over. And haven't I been good to you? Haven't I explained what a good little wifie should do? How she should act? How she should dress? And now I come home, after a hard day's work and you weren't even waiting at the door for me and where's my dinner?" "I'm sorry Sweetie. I lost track of time and dinner is almost ready." I said, backing away, and then making a run for it as he kept coming. I can see why the Chinese used to bind their women's feet. I could have probably given him a run for his money, but not in heels. He caught me easily, dragged me to the sofa, and gave my ass a beating with the belt. I struggled at first, but he kept whipping me until I hung limply in his lap, gasping for breath, tears rolling down my eyes. "Get your self cleaned up," he said. "You look like shit." I freshened up in the bathroom, and dried my tears. Afterwards, I served him dinner as if nothing in the world had ever happened. We ate and watched TV like a normal couple, then went to bed. The belt on the nightstand caught me eyes. He must have seen my stare. "Yeah, bitch, and there it will stay until you learn to start acting right," he said. "Think of it as a reminder." God he was a monster - a fiend - a black ogre. He pulled the sheet back, displaying his semi-erect cock. "You wanna ride, huh? Does wifie want a good fuck tonight?" "no," I whispered. I looked down at my painted toenails, the memory of my earlier whipping still fresh in my mind. "Too bad," he said. "Oh well, there's other ways you can take care of your husband's needs, so come on up here and perform your wifely duties." I obeyed. Like a robot, I performed the deed exactly as he had instructed weeks ago. I even swallowed his vile seed and cleaned his cock, before putting it back in his shorts. Afterwards, he snuggled up behind me and went to sleep. I was tired and not long in following. ************* I hated that belt. It stayed there on the nightstand . . . a reminder of what would happen with any little mistake or disobedience. After being whipped every night or two for a solid week, I couldn't sit. It even hurt to stand. There was always something I would mess up. And with the knowledge of what would happen when I did make a mistake, it made me even more likely to do something wrong. I was so careful. Everything was perfect and then . . .and then while I was dusting, I knocked the lamp off the table and broke it. To make matters worse, I cried and my makeup ran. Two whippings. Phil was due home at any moment. What was I going to do? And then it hit me. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I was still thinking like a man trapped in a woman's body, but what would a woman do in my situation? Maybe leave? Maybe. . . I went to the bathroom and wiped the smeared makeup from my face. I hurriedly put it back on. I did a horrible job, but I hoped it wouldn't matter. Then, I put on a pair of stockings, followed by the shortest, tiniest mini-skirt in the closet and the highest heels I could find. I heard his car pull up. Shit, I hadn't even started dinner. I hurried to the front door, looked out the peephole and waited for Phil. When he approached, I opened the door and put on my best June Cleaver act. "Hi honey, how was your day?" I beamed. "It was okay, and yours?" he asked, hugging me. Okay, it was now or never. "I had the most horrible day." I kissed him - even slipped him a little tongue and nibbled his lower lip, doing my best to hide my revulsion. "I was such a clumsy clumsy girl. I broke the lamp and then I started crying. . ." It was so humiliating. I prayed it would work. As I was talking, I noticed Phil wasn't looking at me, but at the breast peeking out from my unbuttoned shirt. He opened the shirt the rest of the way and casually rolled my nipple between his fingers. Right there with the front door opened behind him. "And then I was late making dinner because I had to fix my makeup." I stamped my foot and pouted. I could feel my nipples responding to his touch. The sensation was so far the only good thing that had happened to me since this all began. "You're not mad, are you?" "Maybe not." Phil said, as he slipped the shirt from my shoulders and then pushed me down to my knees. Shit, old man Gruthers was across the street watching us. Leering at my exposed breasts. "Ah sweetie- old man Gruthers is watching," I hissed. "Let him watch." Phil unzipped his pants and unwound his rapidly swelling cock. God how my ass ached, but I knew I had to do it if I was going to avoid the belt, and then it would ache even more. With one hand, I attempted to preserve my modesty, and with the other I braced myself against Phil's thigh, while I licked the bulbous purple head of his cock. "Do it right," Phil said in a voice that brooked no compromise. "You know how I like it." I knew how he liked it, but I didn't like doing it out there in the open like we were. Not where anyone could walk by and see. I took a quick peak. Mr. Gruthers, the old bastard was fondling his cock through his pants and grinning stupidly. I was forced to bare my small breasts to him when I cupped Phil's balls with my left hand. With my right, I held his cock against his belly, while I licked and sucked him from the bottom of his hairy balls to the tip of his thick black cock. Then, I started sucking him in earnest. I knew well enough how to do it. I had received enough blowjobs in the past and by now, given Phil quite a few myself. I rolled his balls in my palm, jacking his cock in a twisting motion, all the while; I bobbed my head up and down. The bracelets on my wrists jangled as I worked, serving as a loud ringing reminder of what a slut I had become. "Fuck!" Phil gasped. "I'm getting ready to cum slut. Open up." He pulled out and grabbed his cock from my grasp, jerking himself off, while I held my mouth open. I hated it when he did that. It was bad enough when he just came in my mouth. But when he pulled out, it not only ended up in my mouth, but all over my face. And that is exactly what he did. Afterwards, I dutifully cleaned his prick and put it back in his pants. I know Mr. Gruthers got a good look at me with my face covered in semen. I shuddered to think of what must have been going through his bald wrinkled head. I went to wipe my face clean. "No, leave it," Phil said. "I think you look cute like that." Yeah, cute. A cute slut. A cute cum slut. Other than the strange feeling of drying cum on my face, the evening was pretty normal. No spanking or punishment had been given. An outsider would have seen a husband and wife. However, I knew the truth. I had once been a man and turned into Phil's wife. Less of a wife and more of a sex slave to the black bastard. That evening I gave myself an enema before bed. I suspected that we might have sex, and I shuddered as I remembered the last time back in Vegas when I had to clean him afterwards. No, I wouldn't let that happen again if I could help it. After that, I put on some lingerie, and a couple of sprays of perfume. I knew that the belt was still on the nightstand, though he had made no mention of punishment. "Looking good," Phil said from the bed. "That pussy getting lonely?" No, my pussy wasn't lonely. My ass just didn't want to be whipped. And to be honest, I only needed to cum and to hell with the rest of it. But the only way I was allowed release was when he was in me . . . in my ass. He was an evil fuck, a bastard beyond compare. I hated him, yet I climbed into bed, gave him his required kiss on the cheek and turned my back to him without a word. He snuggled up behind me. I could feel his cock in the valley of my arse. It grew hard and soon he was humping against me. My body betrayed me and I soon found myself moving back against him. "That pussy *is* getting lonely, ain't it?" "Yes." I admitted. "Then tell me. Tell me what Chrissie wants." I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see my face. "Chrissie needs your fat cock in her pussy daddy. Chrissie needs a good fucking." "Turn over. I want to fuck you like a dog," he said. "I'm gonna work you hard tonight." It hurt. I wondered if I would ever get used to his huge prick. In Vegas, I was allowed to masturbate, which seemed to take the edge off. This time, he held my hands behind my back while he took me. The lubrication I put in my ass in the bathroom helped at first, but it eventually started burning painfully, making me forget the aching from my earlier whippings. I needed him finish, and finish quickly, so I spread my legs and arched my back. "Give it to me Daddy," I groaned, in hopes of speeding his release. "Ah. Ouch. Fuck me with your fat cock- fill me with your cum. Ugh. Ugh. Drown me in it. Just hurry. Ugh. Ouch." "Do it now," he said, letting go of my arms. "I'm close. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Oh God, gonna give it all to you." I didn't need to be told twice. I masturbated as quickly as I was able. I wasn't even allowed to jerk it. I had to rub it beneath my fingers like a woman rubbed her clit. In the end, it didn't matter. I came massively, and with each spasm, my ass clenched against his twitching cock, his cum cooling the irritated lining of my insides. I slipped into sleep easily for the first time since we had been back . . . even though I was in the wet spot. ************* That's pretty much how it went for the rest of the year. It was tough at times, and while Phil treated me better and didn't whip me with the belt anymore, he would still warm my bottom and make me cry with his hand. One of the hardest things was that I had no one to talk to during my ordeal. When neighbors came over to visit, Phil ordered me to do humiliating things, like flirt with the men right in front of their wives. And if I didn't do it, didn't make both the men and the women think that I was the biggest slut in the neighborhood, then Phil would jump in my mind, take control and make me go so far as to place my hand on their cock and give them a squeeze or a stroke. To avoid this fate, I would flirt voluntarily. A wink - a flash of panties - a seductive lick on whatever I was eating, it was usually enough to satisfy Phil. It was also enough to make the men try to get me alone and get into my panties from that moment forward. It was also enough to make me the neighborhood leper as far as the wives were concerned. The worse part? Even though I slept with no one but Phil, everyone condidered me the neighborhood slut. And Phil, the evil bastard, loved every moment of my humiliation. One of his favorite things was for me give him a blowjob while his friends were in the room or to fuck me in the restroom of a crowded restaurant. It was horrible. Really, I don't know how I managed. The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that I only had to do it for a year. There was also the fact that even though he controlled my physically, my mind was still my own. A year - all three hundred and sixty five days of it, is a long time, but it finally passed. I was even especially nice yesterday and went out of my way to put Phil in a good mood. The house was spotless and I had even given him as much sex as he could stand. I did it even though he hadn't let me cum in quite some time. Yes, that was one of the things that had been difficult. At the start, I was allowed to masturbate for a few moments right before he was about to climax. But as time passed, this started to change. At first, he told me that when the sex was especially good, I could cum. Well, I watched porn movies and read articles . . . the sex was as good good. As good as I could make it. I did things for him that no woman had done for me. Yet, still my own release was delayed. First for a few days, then every week or so. I tried harder and harder to please him, yet still he allowed me to cum less and less. It was now a year since this all started and my last orgasm was three weeks ago. I was horny, agitated, yet I was thankfully relieved that my ordeal would finally be over. When Phil came home from work, my bags were packed and by the door, and the house was spotless. "You ready to go, huh?" he asked. "Yes, daddy." I wondered if I still had to call him daddy now that it was over- now that I was leaving the evil bastard once and for all. Well, better safe than sorry I decided. "Can you help me take my bags to the car?" "Nope," he said. "Call a cab. I'm done with you." He sat down in his recliner and turned on the TV. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I had been his slave, a virtual prisoner in his house for a year and he didn't even have the decency to give me a ride. Well, fuck him! I called the cab company and they said they would have someone over in ten minutes or so. Still, there was one problem that remained, but I had a good idea on how I could solve it. I went to the refrigerator got out a beer. I was wearing a thin white half T-shirt that was very tight, a likewise small and tight pair of low-cut shorts, and heels. I know, you think that maybe it was my idea, but I assure you it was not. The only clothes I had were what Phil had bought me, and what I was wearing was about as casual and as modest as anything in my closet. Anyway, it made it really easy to carry out my plan. I touched the cold beer bottle to my bare midriff. It didn't take long before my nipples were poking out through my thin cotton T-shirt. I returned to the living room. "I thought you might like a beer," I said, handing it to him. He took the beer and set it on the end table. His eyes roamed up and down my body, especially my chest. "What do you want?" Shit, he was going to make this hard for me. "Look, I was wondering if. . ." I batted my eyelashes and bit my lip. I was using every trick at my disposal. Phil stood up and pulled me into his embrace, kissing me forcefully. His strong arms wrapped around my body, while his hands groped my rear. I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach. God I was so horny it wasn't even funny. When he broke the kiss, I had to make a special effort to continue. "I was wondering if you would give me a little money for the cab, baby?" "No," he said curtly, as he grabbed my roughly, turned me around, and pushed me against the front window. "But you can earn it." He began to strip me. First my small T-shirt, and then my tight hip-hugging shorts. I kept hold of the front so he could pull them down in the back enough to enter me. "Wait - my. . ." I was under strict orders never to expose my cock to anyone. . .and that included Phil. However, with the window in front of me, Phil behind, and shorts too tight to fit my hand inside, there was little I could do. "You better keep it covered, Chrissie" he warned menacingly. "You better keep it covered *real* goddamn good." "Yes, daddy." I managed to move my penis to the front of my shorts and hid it behind my hand. It wasn't hard to do because it was embarrassingly small after the hormone treatments and the effects of the ring that kept me from getting an erection. I heard his zipper fall and then the blinds were raised; I was exposed to anyone who cared to look. One final humiliation I had to endure. He spread my cheeks and spit on my rear passage. His stubby finger massaged it in. He took my waist in his hands possessively. I knew what was next. "Oh I'm gonna miss this tight little pussy," he said, and then pushed into me. It hurt a little at first, but I quickly became accustomed to it. A lot had changed in a year's time. He pumped me a few minutes and then . . . to my surprise . . . he stopped. A five dollar fell from my shoulder to the floor. "I'd say that's about all this is worth." Bastard! He wanted to humiliate me thoroughly. He was going to make me *earn* it. Well, earn it I would, anything to get away from him. I squeezed his prick internally and began to move beneath him. "You want to make me earn it?" I asked. "What do you want me to do? Want me to act like a slut? Your white nympho slut?" I fucked him faster. It was no longer pretend. I was so horny I could scream and palming my cock as I was, the stimulation was the most I had been allowed in a month. "You want to spank me daddy? Huh? Have I been a bad girl?" He spanked my ass hard. I could still feel the sting. "That's it. Spank my ass. Spank it," I moaned. The blows fell faster. "Tell me daddy, how much is this worth?" Several more bills fell to the floor. Then the spanking resumed. I had no clue how money lay at my feet. I only knew that I was getting close. Close to coming. Closer to paying for my cab ride with every moment. "I want more. Give it to me hard. Pinch my nipples. Spank my ass." Shit, my legs were trembling. My toes were tingling. I was getting so close. I closed my eyes and waited for my climax to overtake me. But, before it happened, I felt a tugging at my wrist. My hand was still covering my crotch, but I couldn't stimulate myself. I struggled against it, but it was no use. He was so much stronger. "Not yet," he said. "We need to talk first." "Please," I begged pushing back against him. Phil laughed and motioned out the window. The cab was outside. The driver was thoroughly engrossed in the show. "Where you gonna go Chrissie?" Phil asked. He started moving back and forth slowly inside of me. It was so hard to think. I had it all worked out just minutes ago, but it seemed so cloudy now. Mostly all I could think about was the cock pulsing in my ass. "I'm going to stay with my parents and then try to get my old life back again." "How do you think they are gonna feel when a cutie like you shows up on their doorstep, huh?" Phil's fingers roamed my body, tugged at my nipples, and ran through my hair. "You know, the paper said you stole a bunch of money from work, burned down your house and then fled the country." "I didn't steal anything!" and then I remembered the extra money. He must have stolen it while he had control of my body. It all started falling into place. "I helped you out there," he said. "I wanted a good job done with your surgery and it was more expensive getting it done at the last minute like that." I was so mad I could die. He tricked me! He had strung me out all along, with no intention of letting me go. His grip on my wrist relaxed, I was touching myself again. He moved my hand around in a small circle. "So what you gonna do?" he asked. God, so hard to think. "I don't know." His cock was really plowing me. His pelvis spanked my ass, while his balls slapped against my hand. "Stay here with me," Phil grunted. "Another year. Ugh. Fuck. Same rules." "Please don't," I begged. I was still his- still trapped - not only in this female body, but stuck having homosexual sex for another year. The thought was unbearable. And one thing stuck in my mind. I felt I had to get some sort of compromise. I couldn't let him have his way again. "At least let me cum. Let me cum-ahhh-whenever I want." "You cum when I say." He fucked me even harder. It was starting to hurt, yet it still felt good, so goddamn good. "I'm training you. Ahh! Training you like a bitch. Training you to cum from me fucking you. Just from fucking your tight little pussy. Soon, that's gonna be the only way you can cum. Soon, it will be the only way you *want* to cum." "No!" I groaned. "Yes!" He grabbed me by my hair and pushed me against the windowpane. He pounded me brutally. "I've been training you for so much and you don't even know it. Ha-ha. Training you to get off on getting me off. Training you to get off on showing off that hot little body. Look out the window. That cabbie is watching you right now. Watching you getting fucked and imagining fucking you himself. Training you to get off from turning men on. And you are getting off, aren't you Chrissie? Come on, you love it, admit it." "No." Wearing the clothes I wore and being forced to perform sexual act with Phil while others watched humiliated me to the core. Everyone thought I was a slut, but I wasn't. I had only had sex with Phil. And everyone thought I was some sort of sexy exhibitionist. I wasn't that either. I was forced to wear those tight revealing clothes, my one thought was to make sure my bulge wasn't showing. Everyone thought I was *that* sort of woman, but the thing was, I wasn't any sort of woman. I wasn't even *a* woman. But, dear God, I was the sort of woman that had always turned me on as a man. A woman who would do anything, yet only did it for her man. I was my own fantasy, and yes, Phil was right, it turned me on. Every time I looked in a mirror or saw myself through other's eyes, it made me want to fuck myself. Lord, what was happening to me? I needed a break. I needed time to think. "Admit it," Phil demanded. "Ugh-Oh God, ugh-you're right," I admitted, tears flowed from my eyes. "I know I'm right," he said. "Just look at you. You can't be a man. You never were. Go on. Tell me what you are." He was right. There was no way that anyone could look at me and see me for anything else than. . . "A woman." "No, not a woman. Not with those tight narrow little hips. Not with those perky little titties. No, bitch. You a girl. You only a girl. Go on, say it." "Ugh-ugh-I'm-a-girl." That's right bitch," he said, kicking my legs further apart. "You my Boo girl. And what am I?" I couldn't say it. Wouldn't. He let my hand go. "Go on. You can play with your clittie this time, but soon, ahh soon you gonna cum from just this alone, my fat cock in your tight little cunt. Oh yeah bitch, I think I'm gonna train you to cum on command. To cum when I say. Any time any place. Go on Boo, diddle it. You know you want to." Oh God, he was right. I wanted to. I needed to. I rubbed my clittie, circling it with my fingers. Oh, I was so close. My ass was on fire. "You'll stay with me for two years," he said, increasing my term. "Same deal." "Please," I begged. "Just let me cum." "You'll do it like I say," he said. "Same deal. You wanna try for three?" I couldn't even imagine what I would be like after two years. I didn't even recognize myself after one. "Okay." I was defeated, the battle had been lost long ago. "I'm gonna cum soon. You better hurry up," he said, stroking me faster, banging me against the window. "Tell me what I want to hear and I'll let you rub it the way you want." "Oh please!" "What's my name?" he said, hammering me so hard, I could hardly keep my balance. "Daddy," I groaned. "That's right bitch," he grunted. "Who's your daddy?" "You are! Oh fuck! You are. . . " "Fuck I'm gonna nut," he said. "If you're gonna do it bitch, you better do it quick." I didn't need to be told twice. "Wait for me," I begged. "Oh fuck, wait for me." "Ten-nine-eight-seven," he counted down. My hand was a blur. The timber had been dry for so long and it didn't take long for the flame rise up and consume me. When he hit one, in a blaze of passion it happened. "Oh god-oh god," I moaned. I was coming. Oh it was too much. I came like never before. "Oh yeah, just like that. Soon you'll be doing that whenever I say," I remembered Phil saying. After that I blacked out with his cock still pulsing inside of me. When I came to, Phil was untangling his sweaty body from my own. "Here, get dressed," he said, patting me on the ass. I slid the back of my shorts back up and then pulled on my shirt. I was in such a sexual daze, I forgot rule number one. My hand darted forward to cover the small bulge in my shorts. "I'm gonna let it slide this time," Phil said. "But you better damn sure have it tucked back in when you go tell the cabby you don't need him anymore." I darted for the bedroom. "Where are you going?" he said. "I've got to change," I said. There was no way I could go out like this. The thin white shirt clung to my sweaty body like a second skin. My small perky nipples were visible through the now translucent fabric. But the main reason was my shorts. They were now soaked with cum at both my ass and my crotch. "No," he said. "Tuck it and go out there just like that. I want him to know what sort of girl I got." My sexual numbness was fading fast and turning into sheer fright and humiliation. God, would the cabbie recognize the stain in the front or would he assume that I had soiled them due to being 'wet'. I secured my cock between the cheeks of my bottom, doing my best to hide my cock from prying eyes. "Yes, daddy." Phil handed me a ten dollar bill he picked up from the money piled on the floor. "Give him this for his trouble." I nodded my head. My face burned with heat as I made my way to the cab. God, why didn't I just grab the money on the floor and make a run for it? The cabby leered at me the whole way to his car, his eyes fixated on my breasts and crotch. I thought about getting in the car and seeing how far ten dollars would take me. The thought didn't last long. It wouldn't last long and there was no telling what the cabby would do. A year ago, I would have felt confident in protecting myself, but now, now, I felt powerless and scared. I tried hand the cabby the money and thanked him for waiting. "You've tipped me plenty already," he said, and I glanced over and saw the balled up tissues in the passenger seat. Shit, the bastard had masturbated while looking at me through the window! "Glad to see you two make up." He gave me a lecherous grin. Two of his teeth were missing. Hell, even if I got in the car, the thought of what this leering bastard would do to me sent a shiver down my spine. My thoughts of leaving faded even faster. I had hoped he would leave and save me the embarrassment of him seeing the rear of my cum-stained shorts, but instead he waited and watched. I could feel his cold penetrating stare as I turned and walked to the house. Worse, I could feel myself getting turned on by my continued humiliation and exhibition. Two years! I couldn't even remember what David was like anymore. When I thought of myself, I saw the image of the waifish model from page fifty-three from April's Vogue magazine, not the young virile man I used to be. More and more my fantasies weren't of women, but of men. Black men. Of Phil. Of a cabby watching my ass swish as I fled quickly back to my house in cum-stained shorts. Phil said he was training me! Training me to cum like a woman and exposing me like this was part of his training too. Who knew what else his perverted devious mind had in store. Oh God, what had I become in only one year? What would I be in two? I rubbed my thighs together, practically strutting back to the house like some sort of street whore. David? David was lost that day, and only Chrissie remained. Even as I walked back in the house, I knew Phil would be waiting, ready to continue with his sick sordid plan. Two years. Just a year ago, I had been a man with an attractive female lover. I had a successful job. Then Phil took control of my mind and made me do things . . . perverted thing I had never imagined. Now, I had no job and I was the attractive female lover. Christ, I even turned myself on when I looked in the mirror. I was going to have to have iron will and determination, just to remain Chrissie and not be turned into the slutty sex starved exhibitionist Phil had in mind. And the worst part, he wasn't even going into my mind and forcing me . . .now I was a willing, albeit reluctant participant. God, my mind that I thought was safe, was slowly but surely changing, changing the way Phil wanted it. Phil moved into the doorway, a collar and leash in one hand, a blindfold in the other. My stomach leapt in fright. I looked back for the cab, my one chance to escape, and it was pulling away. I wondered if old man Gruthers was watching from across the street. A collar, a leash and a blindfold. Training me? Oh God, what did he have in mind? I could feel my face warming; my nipples hardening; my trapped cock struggling against the band of steel that encircled it. My mind, my mind faltered against the cage that Phil was building around it. Two years was going to be a very long time. The end ******* 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.
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