After a while, not quite as shaken as when I first sat up, I looked across the room. There on a chair within easy reach was a luminous blue satin dressing gown, a brighter shade than Kate usually wore, and a large, heavy-duty bra. Then as if to make up for the utilitarian massiveness of the bra, a teeny pair of delicate rose lace hi-leg panties. And a note.

I sat back on the bed and opened the note. Kate was going all out — the paper was perfumed, that floral scent I remembered from before she went to work at the clinic, that she still wore when we went out somewhere fancy. I breathed it in and opened the note, and read:

* * *

“My Darling Annie, or if it’s Andy reading this, my poor bewildered Andy. First, I want to remind you, whichever you are, that you are *mine*, not your own person. You pledged yourself to me knowing

that I intended to do things you might not like, however deeply a desire for some them might be implanted in your psyche. I think you know now what I intend. I intend to make a woman of you. A real one, not a simpering transvestite concoction of one, which is probably all you’d have managed to make of yourself without me, and not a Drag Queen either. But also, not the kind of woman you’d be if you’d been born a girl and raised in the same circumstances you’ve enjoyed as a boy, not a restrained, educated professional woman. Not even a woman like me, more venturesome than you are, more of a take-charge kind of person. No, someone different.

“Brace yourself, darling. I want you to become my kind of woman, the kind I’d love to spend time with, and go out with, and make love with. And date men with. The kind I find exciting, as you’ve never been as a man. Impulsive. Playful, even silly at times. Instinctive and generous, warm hearted. Physical in many ways, most of them feminine — tender and demonstrative when you feel affectionate, which will be often, and sexy when you feel a yearning for that kind of pleasure, also often. Not too inhibited. In fact, a little smutty in pursuit of your pleasures. The kind of girl men are happy to find they’ve been fixed up with on a blind date, because attractive at first glance. The kind men remember the next day with smiles on their faces. And don’t be shocked dear. The kind of girl women can remember the next day with smiles. The kind I’ve always wanted to remember with smiles.

“If that isn’t you now, and I know it isn’t, that’s what will be you. You are mine. I’ve always wanted that kind of girlfriend, so that’s the kind of girl you will become. You’ll try with all your heart, soul, and might to become that girl. I know you will. You have no other future.

“When you’ve succeeded, when you like being that kind of girl, then you can be my friend as well as my servant, and we can enjoy that relationship too. You are already married to me, as you know. I may then be willing to marry you. But only then. We’ll see.

“Love,

Ms. Katherine

P.S. You see in front of you the first intimate wear of the kind you will wear for the rest of your life, your first bra and panties. Congratulations, sweetheart. Also a rather lively gown, the kind Annie will soon love to wear as the truest expression of her own lively nature. I’m sorry the bra looks something like a washer woman’s, but your breasts, your pledge of servitude to me, need that kind of support right now. I’ve tried to make up for it by giving you panties a whore might blush to wear. Put them all on, and splash some of my cologne on too, and some matching scuffs from my closet. While you wait for me to return I want you to begin browsing through some of the women’s magazines I’ve accumulated downstairs, ads and all. They’re your kind of magazines now. They’re the sole occupation of your mind from now on.”

* * *

With my nightie off I saw Kate was true to her word, the only fringe of hair anywhere on my body was neatly trimmed around my pubes — the rest was smooth. I dressed as Ms. Katherine ordered. The bra felt heavy on my shoulders until I realized the weight was in my hanging tits, eased when I remembered to stand up very straight. But then they protruded out, way too far forward. I doubted even a loose sports jackets would cover them, much less a tailored suit jacket. How would I go to work? With a weight on my shoulders, or else with a lot of explaining. The panties were indeed teeny, designed to curve below the curve of my belly and across the curves of my buns. I didn’t have a woman’s sexily rounded buns yet, but I knew I’d get them, if not by hormones then by more implants. Kate would see to it.

I inspected myself in the mirror, and I saw a man with straight long hair — that’s how I liked it — wearing a large bra and skimpy scanties. Boobs nicely proportioned for his shoulders, which were a little large. The breasts would swell up even more when the hormones got hold of them, I realized, no doubt as part of Kate’s plan for me to look like a sex pot at anyone’s first glance. Waist a bit thick — I should diet. Then I realized that was a girl’s thought, Kate’s scheme was getting to me. Hips narrow, but that’s true of some women, I knew. Big bulge in my panties so far, thank God! Could I become the kind of girl Kate wanted? Possibly, with diet and the right makeup and gear. And the right temperament. It could be fun. My face was small-featured, and I had an unassertive chin I’d always regretted. Now I could see it was a dainty chin. Or might become one. Did I want to become Kate’s kind of girl? Did I have a choice?

I wriggled my hips at the apparition in the mirror, and immediately felt silly, even indecent. So I took a full-figured blouse and a wide skirt out of Kate’s closet almost without looking at them, and I put them on. The bottom of the skirt brushed my calves delicately. The blouse was short sleeved and nylon or something, so when I put the satin dressing gown on over it I felt incredibly slippy all over, like wearing liquid. With another glance in the mirror I saw that its bright iridescent blue seemed to light up the room. That’s me, life of the party, I thought ruefully, and went down to the living room.

There I picked up a copy of “Cosmopolitan.” I noticed immediately that my breasts were already larger than on most of the women photographed in that magazine, even the “Cosmo” girl. I started reading an article on how to keep *him* interested in asking you out again. Some of the advice was excellent — ask him to tell you about himself, and admire anything you can that he’s accomplished — I wished girls would do that for me. I wished girls had done that for me. I realized that I was expected to do that, now. But a pang of panic struck my midriff! With guys? No, I wouldn’t! I was Kate’s!

Some of the advice was practical — “If he seems excited to be with you, help him sustain that level of excitement by caressing him in sensitive areas. You can find out quickly enough if he’s sized to your needs. And being kissed by a smooth, wet, deep mouth is sure to please him!”

Now I shuddered. To kiss a man? Did Kate mean that? Before this was over did she want me satisfying men with hand jobs? Worse, with blow jobs? Real ones on real men, not idle fantasies? Swallowing real cum? “Smutty” was what my Mistress wanted, and she’d see to it that’s what she made me! Even more, would I as a woman need to let men — I tried to imagine it and couldn’t, and felt a little queasy — enter me?

And pump me? And cum in me? Deep inside me? Oh my God!

That was as much as I could take. There had to be a way out of this! This was only a game, a scene we were playing, and I was taking it too seriously! Then I realized I had no safe word. Kate had started me off with the injected hormones and breast implants so the road back would be harder than the path of least resistance, so I’d go with whatever she wanted, like it or not, and learn to like it. I was already part way where she wanted me. Dressed like a courtesan and reading up on how to get laid.

I decided to read the ads instead of all the distressing no-brainers on “How to Get Real Hunky Men to Fuck You Senseless” There were hundreds of ads for make-up! Eye liner and shadow and pencil and mascara in varying shades were individually mysterious, and as I realized when I studied page after page of superbly blended eyes on gorgeous models, how those powders and brushes and pencils could create the mysterious seductiveness of those eyes was beyond any male comprehension. I’d never learn how to use them!

Still, I had to please Kate until I could persuade her somehow to give up her plan for me but marry me anyhow — my only apparent way out. Applied Lipstick looked like a course I could teach myself. I read an article on the new shades, and figured out the uses of lip liners and upper-lip shaping, went back to our bedroom, and applied a dark maroon to my mouth. That would show Kate that I was trying.

Now a glance into the mirror revealed a man in a bright blue satin gown wearing lipstick. Neatly, though. I went down again and read on, wondering why I wasn’t getting increasingly resentful. Was I really a wimp? Look what she had done to me! Did I really want it? I suspected there were more tranquilizers in me than I knew.

A few hours later Kate returned. I was back at the computer when she arrived, originally to get some more advice from Sissify.Com about make-up and how to cope with my new situation, but now looking at different e-mailed reactions to the report I’d turned in. I saw I had to go into the office to talk to some associates.

“Looking for some new games to play, Annie?” she said when she saw me staring at the screen. “Remember you’re my plaything now, and I make up all our games. Any time you forget that, just fold your arms across your chest to remind yourself.”

“No, this is business,” I said a little morosely. “I have to talk to some people downtown. Tomorrow.” I turned around and stared at her. I was now in no mood to play, but realized that for a servant I had spoken out of line. “Ms. Katherine, Ma’am?” There was a faint edge of sarcasm in my voice. “Do I have to kowtow to you all the time from now on? Can’t we just talk?”

She didn’t seem to mind my asking. “Any time there are other people present, certainly we can just talk, Andy honey. Then we’ll talk the way we’ve always talked. Of course you’ll always agree with everything I say, and I look forward to hearing the reasons you’ll give for agreeing with some of my the things I’ll say.

I’ll say some outrageous things sometimes, just to keep you in line. At first you’ll agree with me any way you can, but when you’ve become the woman I want, I’m sure you’ll agree with me sincerely.”

“When nobody’s around it’ll always be different. I’ll expect you to remember your place and my place, and to address me appropriately. This is a process, a journey, and we’re only just beginning. When you finally arrive where I mean to take you, when you’re the kind of girl I want you to be, then maybe we’ll talk as

equals sometimes. I expect that by then you’ll be so pleased with yourself you’ll want to thank me. Are you resenting me a little right now?”

I hesitated. “Yes, Ms. Katherine” was all I said.

She stared at me a moment. “I appreciate your honesty. And also your effort to please me by wearing lipstick. You did a good job there for your first time. The shade’s a bit too maroon for the color of your robe, but you’ll learn about things like that.” She smiled. “That’s the favorite shade of a girl I went with my last year in college. I loved seeing her lips that color while they tugged on my nipples and nibbled on my clit. I’ll love seeing yours there too. If you really like it, we’ll build your outfits around it, honey. It’s still fashionable.”

Kate a Lesbian when she was in college? No, probably experimental, bisexual. And now me too?

Then Kate commented further. “That’s a pretty blouse you picked out, even though I didn’t ask you to. I’m glad you like it. It’s yours now, and I think that’s what you’ll wear when you go to your office tomorrow for your meetings. Just a touch of lace on the collar ends, and it billows beautifully, so no one has to know about your new breasts. They’re a ‘C’ cup now, incidentally. Your hormones will soon make you at least one size large still, really a knockout, though of course we don’t want to overdo anything.”

She waited. “Yes, Ms. Katherine,” I replied. What else was there to say? The humiliations were beginning? She was punishing me for my lack of enthusiasm earlier that I was being turned into her slut girlfriend? What else she was planning to do to me?

“When you go in for your conference, select a nice gold chain for a necklace and wear that too, tucked under that collar, so no one can miss seeing the lace. I don’t care how you explain the blouse and chain if anyone asks, but I think afterward you’ll feel a little more grateful to me for what I’m doing. Remember, you agreed to all of this, wholeheartedly and repeatedly. And I saw when we were prepping you for your breast implants that you had sealed your agreement with an orgasm all on your own!”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, Ms. Katherine,” I said a lot more sincerely.

She waved her hand to say that gratitude was unnecessary. “Don’t worry about what people think. If you feel like it, flash your tits at anyone who mocks you. They’re real conversation-stoppers already, those breasts, believe me. Some women would kill for a figure like the one you’re going to have. Finish up the project you’re on, and then turn in your two-weeks notice, and tell them you’re taking off those two weeks as accrued sick leave. I need to change you utterly, Annie, and I can’t do that if you’re spending all your days in some cubicle worrying about people who have nothing better to do than insult you for obeying me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s better. You should know that one more insolent innuendo in your responses would have sent you to work tomorrow in a skirt too. Any questions?”

“Yes, Ma’am. How will we get by without my salary?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, Andy honey,” she said. “Maybe you’ll work for me in the Clinic. We need to make our records more accessible. You can do that for us. Maybe later on I’ll get you to turn tricks — it would help you develop the right kind of sluttish personality. Which reminds me, we need to make your pretty little head pretty as soon as possible, so you can begin being a girl in public right away without disgracing either of us. Learn by doing! So day after tomorrow we get you a new hair style and makeover.”

The next day’s meetings were arduous, but we got all the understandings ironed out and concluded that I could fine-tune the project completely from home in no time. I thought at first everyone was pointing fingers at my blouse, but I suspect most never even noticed. I suppose they thought I was affecting some

mod style, or a pirate or an 18th century grandee.

Only Becky Davis, our whiz kid from Sales, commented on it. “Very pretty blouse, Andy,” she said. “Looks just like one I once had. I didn’t know you leaned toward my taste in clothes.”

I didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. Becky was thin as a plank and as starved as a model, but she wore her clothes with great style and panache. So I looked pleasant and said nothing.

“It’s so full in front you could grow tits in them and no one would ever know,” she added. “Have you thought of doing that? Have you found yourself a boyfriend who likes big tits on guys?” So her remark *was* intended to be an insult.

I straightened my shoulders and thrust my chest way forward, and my bra poked unmistakable mounds into the front of the blouse. Becky stared! “I already have grown them,” I said. “You should try it some time yourself, and get some guy interested in you for once. Or some girl!”

It was her turn to say nothing.

When I got home Kate was stretched out on the couch in a robe, obviously through with her own work for the day. I changed into the skirt and medium heels she’d laid out for me, and then told her about my interchange with Becky. She was both pleased and amused.

“See, I told you,” she said. “Accept yourself for what you are, right now a man with big boobies, and later a woman with generous boobies, and no one can reach you. So what are you?”

“Right now I’m a man with big boobies, Ma’am, and your property.”

“That’s right. My sissy girl property. I’m very pleased that you’re through working downtown. Those breasts aren’t a mere whim, they’re very important, they’re your passage into a new life. I mean for you to become a passable woman. It will take time and effort, on your part especially. But there will come a moment, you’ll see, when the sissy man disappears in your own mind and the girl of my dreams replaces him. That’s where I want us to end up. When I saw you playing girlie-girlie fantasies at that computer,

lots of things fell into place for me. You’re going to become a girl very soon. Now listen closely, Annie. Do you want to become a girl as soon as possible?”

“Yes, Ms. Katherine,” I said. I realized that wasn’t enough of a response. But I wasn’t really persuaded. And I had one serious reservation. “Ms. Katherine, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ms. Katherine, when I’m a girl, will I still have my…my…male parts?” I was afraid to name them, for fear she’d suddenly be reminded I wasn’t already gelded, pick up the phone, and order up a castration and penectomy to go.

She just smiled. “You poor dear. That’s the last vestige of masculinity a man reaches for, isn’t it. Well, your female hormones will soon render them useless, but you can keep them as long as you want them. I suspect there will come a time when you’ll prefer a cunt, if only because by then you’ll like being attractive to men, and men adore cunts. When that happens we’ll have your “male parts” as you call them turned inside out into a cunt. It’s done all the time these days. Does that ease your mind?”

“Yes, Ms. Katherine.”

“Learn your girlhood lessons well, and I’ll let you masturbate a little, while that thing still provides you pleasure. On rare occasions, when you accomplish something I find impressive, I may even allow you to masturbate until you cum. But your main sexual pleasure from now for a while to come will be from your new nipples– caress them all you want, whenever you wish. It’ll help you appreciate them. Enjoy your femininity! And right now, Annie, it’s time for you to enjoy mine. Here!”

She pulled back her robe, and I saw that she was wearing nothing underneath. I saw the furry triangle of her crotch, and her slit. and her creamy white thighs.

“I promised you could kiss my naked pussy. Now you shall. It’s exactly the same way it was when I brought it home from work a few days ago, a little sweaty, a little pissy, maybe even a little lubricated too, because feminizing you excites me. Is some man’s cum in there too? You don’t know, do you? Well, you’ll just have to work it out on your own.” She smiled to herself and went on, “With your tongue. Come here and lick me now, Annie. This will be a regular reward for you whenever I come home, as long as you do your other work well.”

She shifted her hips slightly and dropped one leg to the floor, then raised the other high onto the back of the couch. There it was! Her pink slit was now perched on the edge of the couch, wide open. I fell to my knees and again buried my face in her crotch, this time slathering my nose into its musky, fermy, sour center, and I began to lick her. She tasted slightly acrid, but sweet, and salty, and fishy, and creamy, and — she was the woman I had sworn to serve with all of the manhood in me, and now all of the femininity too,

and I began to lick and suck and tongue and kiss her more passionately! Was there a love potion in that twat? Really some man’s cum? I didn’t know! It was divine! I loved her! My tongue probed way down and became a prehensile snake. I buried it in her and started to tongue-fuck her.

Almost immediately she started to moan. I ran the tip of my tongue up one edge of her slot and down the other, then up onto her clit, and again into the center line where there lurked, I knew, a deep and mysterious hole fit to entertain a small man’s five inch prick or a large man’s fist and wrist. Then I moved back to her lit again, where I loitered and licked and loitered and labored. She moaned louder, and shook, and screamed, then began to make strange animal sounding growls, and then screamed again. No woman’s cunny was ever cleaned more thoroughly or enjoyably.

When I lifted my soaked face I felt proud. “Very good, Annie honey,” she said, still breathing hard. “I knew it! You will make the sweetest girl anyone can imagine. Next time would you wear that dark lipstick for me? Now fix me dinner.”

I did that too. It was easy. I was in love again. Before I sat down to eat with her, I tried to make my whole face up like a woman’s, as a gift to my precious, my darling Ms. Katherine. I failed, but she looked at it and smiled, and said nothing. That night we slept in the same bed, and in the early morning when she was returning from a visit to the john and the moisture of her piss was on her like rank dew, I kissed and licked her crotch to yet another orgasmic spasm. My own prick was pulsing fit to explode the whole time, but she wanted me to hold back, she said, so she could redirect my sexual energy. Toward who? Toward what? I maintained iron control, and nothing came of it.

…continued in Chapter 3

Sandy’s breasts were heaving — she was pinching and tweaking her enlarged nipples as her head thrashed back and forth and her hips and ass squirmed on the silken bed coverings. “More — More — don’t stop — make me cum!”, she screamed. Her sweat-covered body was being driven into a frenzy by Becky, her sister-in-law whose tongue was dancing on her clit like a violinist dancing on his strings. “Don’t stop — PLEEEASSE — make me cum!”, she pleaded. Becky knew just how to touch and play with Sandy’s body, bringing it to the throes of orgasm time and time again. And then it happened — in a sudden shriek Sandy’s body tensed up as she was driven over the edge by an expert at oral love.

She laid there for some time as Becky softly caressed her lush, naked body. Her breasts were large, like Becky’s — and her feminine form was filled with every interesting curve that rightly belonged to young 20-something women. They were lovers now, lesbian lovers who shared another secret — the secret of what they had done with Sandy’s husband, Mike.

Sandy and Mike had been married for seven years. He had known all along that his wife had lesbian tendencies — and he even encouraged them, hoping to be drawn into a soft three-way sexual dance. It never happened — but it still turned Mike on to know that his wife was at times in the arms of an attractive female.

Becky was Mike’s sister — older than Mike by only two years. She was a dominant personality her whole life, and Mike always yielded to the sister that he loved. Becky knew this — and, with Sandy’s help, she used it against her younger brother.

Becky was a Gynecologist with a degree also in Psychology. At the present time her Practice was in Counseling, specializing in hypno-therapy. Unbeknownst to him, Mike had been one of her latest subjects over the past 8 months. With Sandy’s help, he had come along quite nicely.

This morning, Mike was asleep in his own bedroom. He had been sent there nine hours ago and was programmed to come downstairs at exactly 9:00 a.m. Becky had arrived at the house three hours earlier to “get things ready” and to have her morning fling with Sandy, her luscious sister-in-law.

“Do you think she’ll go over the edge when she sees what we’ve DONE to her?”, asked Sandy — a little worried today, since Becky had come over to take Mike out of his eight month trance.

“Don’t worry, luv!”, Becky replied. “she is so conditioned now, that she will be unable to do anything but what we tell her to do from now on.”

“But we’ve changed him so MUCH!”, Sandy countered.

Indeed they had! Eight months ago Mike was an attractive young husband with a healthy male appetite. Over the course of the 12 months Becky, through hypnosis and drug therapy, had changed him. It began slowly over dinner one night as Becky, using her feminine charms and a special amulet hypnotized Mike at the dinner table. While Sandy watched, unbelieving, she suggested that Mike wished he were a little more feminine.

“You’d feel much better — more yourself — if you were wearing some satin panties, now WOULDN’T you, mike”, she said to the mind-captured male. “In fact, panties are all you want to wear now. They are so soft — so sweet — so feminine. TELL me, mike — what do you want to do?”

“i want to put on my panties”, he said with a blank stare. And then he left the table, went upstairs to his wife’s dresser and put on a pair of her panties — red, satin ones. He came back to the table still in his shirt and tie and socks — but wearing the red panties.

“Wearing panties feels right to you, mike. From now on it will never occur to you to wear anything BUT female panties. Tomorrow, you will buy panties to replace all those ugly male shorts in your drawer.”

“Yes, Mistress”, mike responded. he went upstairs, cut up all his male underwear — and rejoined his wife and sister. After she brought him out of his trance he sat there talking with them in his red panties as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And THAT was only Day One!

Day by day — bit by bit they feminized him. The next day he was shaving — UNTIL they made it permanent. And immediately they began to introduce the right amount of female hormones and other sex-changing drugs to change his body to a more feminine form. he continued to work and act as though he were still Mike — but his dress and mannerisms showed anything BUT a normal, healthy male.

At work, people noticed that mike had changed. When they would say something, he’d laugh it off, wondering why everyone seemed to be picking on him. he continued working until three month ago when he was fired. his boss made up some excuse — ANYTHING to get rid of a fag who was changing himself into a girl.

Now, mike was anything BUT a man. his skin was soft and smooth as any young woman of 20 years of age. his face had been softened by therapy — his hair, a long, silky blonde mane. his eyebrows and permanent makeup showed the face of a cover-girl — his lips made full from treatment were soft, full and sensual.

his body was filled with every interesting curve of a young virgin. 36″ breasts heaved from his body. his waist had been trimmed down to a 25″ frame. his hips flared out to 35″ meeting his smooth, long and sensuous legs which seemed to go on and on.

In mike’s eyes, he was still Mike — a healthy male, husband of Sandy, brother to Becky. When he looked in the mirror he saw a male — but whenever anyone else saw him, they looked upon a sex goddess who was built for play.

“What will he DO when you bring him out of his trance?”, Sandy wondered with a little fear in her voice.

“SHE’LL do exactly what she’s TOLD to do”, Becky said with every confidence. “And now it’s time for our little sissy to make her debut!”

************

mike came down to the kitchen, dressed in a blue babydoll nightie that barely covered his matching panty. his feet were covered with big, fluffy, blue things that looked cute on little girls. his breasts were aroused by the crisp morning air. “Good morning dears”, he said as he gave his wife a kiss and came over to give his sister a peck on the cheek. “Lovely morning!”

Becky waited until mike sat down — and they she said: “today’s the day!” It was the post-hypnotic phrase that would take mike out of his 8 month trance. mike looked dazed for a second and then shrieked in horror as he looked down on his ultra-feminine form.

“What in the hell is THIS?”, he said as he feminine body for the first time. “What have you DONE to me?”

“At EASE, young lady”, said Becky taking immediate control of the situation. “you will SIT there and listen to every word I have to say — and WHILE you sit there, I want you to start playing with your nipples with your right hand while you caress your dick through your panties with your left.”

mike couldn’t stop himself. Still dumbfounded, he found his hand involuntarily moving to his breasts and cock. he began to softly caress his female parts as Becky began the explanation and his new commands.

“mike — or shall I say MICHELLE — you have been under my spell for a long time. your pretty WIFE and me have FEMINIZED you — and we have done a pretty good job of it, don’t you think?” michelle nodded as she began to feel aroused as her feminine hands toyed with her soft breasts and hard cock.

“As you can SEE, michelle, you are no longer a man. you’ve always fantasized about your wife and her lesbian lovers. Well, SHE fantasized about making YOU one of her lesbian lovers — and — well, WE DID! The changes that you see in yourself are REAL — AND they are permanent.” michelle was starting to squirm now as she gave in to her feminine form and her feminine touch.

“From now on you will ALWAYS be michelle — a ravishing shemale. But in your MIND you will always be Mike — the humiliated and defeated male. I want you to be embarrassed by everyone you see. I want you to feel as though every eye were undressing you and every person’s thought was given toward fucking you. you are our shemale SEX toy, michelle — and you will only be able to do what I say you can do. By the way — don’t cum yet — just HOLD yourself there.”

michelle was on the verge of cumming and he was totally humiliated at the scene in front of him. wearing female clothes in front of his wife and sister — playing with his tits and cock — feeling he silk and satin caress his body was all too much for him. he was crying now — even as he kept himself on the pinnacle of sexual release.

“michelle, i want you to slip your panties off and CUM inside your panty”, Becky said. michelle did. she came like never before, filling her panty with streams of hot, shemale cum. Then she noticed as her wife, Sandy, walked in front of her. Sandy was now dressed in leather bra and panties — with a huge black dildo attached to her waist. She wiped the head of the black cock into the pool of cum and held it to her husband’s face.

“SUCK it, michelle”, Becky demanded. “you WANT to suck that cock — you want to become a cocksucker for us, don’t you?” michelle opened her painted mouth to take in the huge black phallus while shaking her head in an involuntary “yes”. “Suck it, michelle”, Becky urged. “Even though somewhere inside you are disgusted by the thought of it, you cannot help yourself. you will feel panic and even PAIN — unless you suck a REAL cock at least once a day!”

“She’s making me a cocksucker!”, thought mike as he watched himself being played with as a puppet on a string. he sucked at the black cock shamefully and shamelessly. he couldn’t help himself. Even though he wanted desperately to be a man, he was anything BUT a man. They had turned him into a submissive, slut who would beg to suck cock every day for as long as it pleased them.

When Sandy was finished feeding michelle her cum, she commanded him to stand and pose in front of them. michelle twirled and posed as a sexy model would, feeling shame and guilt as she did. Then Becky said another key phrase: “Sissy!” With that word michelle’s cock grew hard and rigid once again.

“Every time you hear that word you will grow hard and your sexual cravings will overwhelm you. you will be able to think of nothing other than sex — and you will be willing to do anything to relieve your sexual heat. Nothing will release your sexual frenzy other than an orgasm. Do you understand, michelle?”, Becky asked.

michelle shook her head as she again began to feel her body betray her. She tore at his flimsy nightie, tearing it from her body and BEGGING his wife to fuck him. “Please, honey. FUCK me! i’ll do ANYTHING to cum! Please — find me SOMEONE to fuck!”

he was in a frenzy now — a frenzy that would only be satisfied if someone let him cum. Sandy was not about to let this moment go to waste. Still wearing her black cock she commanded her husband to get on all fours! And then, as michelle’s naked body prepared itself — breasts swaying — ass seductively inviting the cock to penetrate her — Sandy thrust the black dildoe deep within her husband’s pussy. As she fucked him, Becky said: “CUM”. mike came, leaving a pool below him. “EAT it”, she commanded. And, with Sandy still fucking his pussy hole, michelle lowered her head and lapped up her cum.

***********

That was a week ago. Since then, michelle has made a lot of money for his wife and sister. You see, he can do nothing BUT — ever since they turned him into a shemale and slut, unbeknowst to him.

When i go to a fetish convention and look out over all the goodies the dealers have brought to tempt, tantalize and seduce what few meager ducats i have in my clutch purse… i must steel myself. So many pretty pretties. So many wicked Wickeds. Latex, leather, plastic, pyrex, metal, satin, crinoline, a thousand textures all demanding my attention and tactile experience. But the booths i’m most drawn to are the booths where the artisans and craftspersons are working. The One of a Kind items; Fetish Works of Art. These living anachronisms who sell these glorious lovingly hand made implements of pain and pleasure are the true heart and soul of the BDSM scene. And when i think of beautiful hand made original Fetish toys, i immediately think of the wonderful WhypDancer and her amazing Canes 4 Pain

Elegance & Punishment

Now granted, i’m a fetishist and i like pain in my play. Spanking paddles, whips floggers etc, etc…. but canes are another matter. A cane in the hands of a brilliant administrator of corporal punishment can be an amazing experience. A humbling, agonizing experience, that will change up a errant slaves outlook with the whistling speed of a single stroke. It’s also an experience i avoid like the plague. A striping by cane is a serious matter for me. It is pain like a wasp sting. A pain that grows and builds even after the first stroke. A kind of sting that goes all the way to the bone, bounces off the bone, and goes immediately to the brain to file a complaint with the cerebellum. i mean it hurts. A lot.

So here is WhypDancer… smiling her pleasant and friendly smile sitting at her booth banging away at piece of fine silver sheet making a rose bud. A innocent scene of an artist at work. And here is me being drawn in towards her booth like the complete idiot that i am. What is that draws me in? What makes me come so close to look at the things that scare the poopie out of me at the mere mention of the word cane? WhypDancer doesn’t simply make canes, she makes slender royal scepters… magical faerie wands. Exquisite ornate sterling silver and bejewelled wonders. And this girl likes shiny, pretty things. Deceptive beguiling enchanting and evil.. Pure unholy evil.

….read more »