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Changes Ch. 01

By: lil_jane34



CHAPTER 1

Our entire family had been abducted as we shopped in a little market in Mexico. We had been drugged and kidnapped. We found ourselves all together in a small room, with our hands tied behind our backs and our ankles tied together. We were each gagged, but other than that, nothing else seemed to have been done to us. My husband, Keith was obviously worried. There was little I could do, but I tried to scoot over so I could at least touch our oldest daughter April. She was 21. Next to her was our other daughter Amy, now 19, and our son Allan, now 18. April's boyfriend Robert had also come along with us and he also had been abducted with us. April and Amy were now both attending the university located in our hometown, and Allen had just graduated high school. All three still lived at home.

Suddenly the door to the room we were in opened and our feet were untied. Then we were led into a larger room where we were each sat in a chair made of metal tubing, with a thick, course cloth as its seat and its back panels. The people who had brought us into this room secured us into the chairs, releasing our hands from behind our backs, but securing them to the tubular arms, and our legs to the tubular legs of the chairs. These people, two men and two women, were dressed in long white lab coats. Now my girls and I sat facing Keith my husband, Allen my son and Robert. The chairs were only separated by a narrow space, enough for one person to walk between, but not much more. The room was large, and all white. There wasn't a single other thing in the room except these chairs. I most certainly didn't like the way things were going.

After a few minutes, a large man, also wearing a white lab coat entered the room. 

"Welcome to the Williams family, and their friend. My name is Dr. Richard Campbell, and this is my top secret experimental clinic."

"You're I'm sure wondering why you have been brought here, and I am about to answer your questions. First, let me explain a little about what we do here. I am conducting a number of extremely untraditional research projects that for the time being at least need to stay completely out of the meddling interference of governmental troublemakers. Certain friends of mine have been more than gracious to foot the bill for my research. Now, however, I have reached the point of needing human subjects to conduct the final test upon, and in turn, hopefully begin to help repay some of my financial indebtedness to my gracious silent partners. That is where each of you will come in. through the unique alterations that my new compounds will produce in each of you, you each will become very valuable commodities that my partners can use or sell to begin to recoup their investment. Based upon what we accomplish in your body alterations, we can then move forward to increase our production of similarly modified sexual toys, and get rich, very very rich."

"now, don't try to be heroes. There is absolutely no escape. You are a very long way away from where you were taken from. This compound is tightly monitored day and night, and there are well trained armed guards everywhere. There is simply no way to escape. Life as you previously knew it is over. Now, to get on with some fun!"

With that, two guards stepped up to both of my girls, and brought out long slender knives. Dr. Campbell walked over to my husband Keith and removed his gag, and then his bindings. Keith saw the knives in the hands of the guards, and stayed still and quiet.

Dr. Campbell said "Very good Keith, I knew you would be a reasonable kind of person! Now, I'm going to hand you a pair of blunt end scissors. You will get up and cut off all of your wife Alice's clothing, and you will do this without making a sound. Either that, our friends with the knives begin some interesting cutting on your two daughters, starting, say with the removal of an ear or two, before they get to more interesting parts like nipples, breasts or worse!'

Fortunately the scissors were sharp and Keith kept his hands from shaking too badly, so I wasn't nicked or cut. Once all my clothing had been cut away and I was sitting there totally nude, they took the scissors away from him. Then they made Keith remove all of his own clothing before making him sit back sown and re-secured him back to the chair. Never before had we allowed our children to see either of us naked, and the shame of it all made my eyes fill with tears. But the horror was just beginning, because the exact same thing happened with each of our girls. First, our son Allan was made to cut the clothing off of Amy, then strip himself, then the same thing happened with Robert and April. At the end, all six of us were sitting facing each other, all of us completely nude.

As they fell, our clothes had been gathered up and whisked away. Once we were all secured back on our chairs, a small metal cart was wheeled in. the cart had a cloth draped across it's top, concealing whatever instruments lay beneath it. The cart was wheeled to the end of the two rows of chairs, then Dr. Campbell took the cloth off, revealing seven hypodermic needles. As he picked the first one up he said: "Before we start having fun, we need to start each of your treatments. Each of you will be injected with an experimental solution that will begin to effect changes within your bodies. Now, Alice, we know that as a good mother, you breastfed each of your children here, which or course means that your breasts developed the glands necessary to produce milk. What a shame that you like so many women today let their milk dry up. Well, modern science has developed the solution to that little problem, and all I needed to do was to do a little additional work to enhance its effectiveness. Once you receive first this, then two additional twin or double injections, your breasts will once again begin producing milk, and that milk will never again dry up. The more your milk gets suckled from you, the more milk you will produce. We also believe that an interesting side effect is that you will become more and more insatiable for sex. Your libido will increase dramatically. With that he plunged the needle into my exposed left breast and quickly injected the contents into my left breast and then a second syringe went into my right breast. It stung like fire for just a moment, and then the hurt went away, replaced by a gentle warm glow enveloping both breasts, and slowly flowing throughout my body. As it reached my vagina, it seemed to intensify somewhat, causing my pussy lips to flower out and my clit to begin to throb, swelling and poking its way out from its hood. My juices began to run out of my open pussy and onto the cloth of the chair I was secured to.

Changes Ch. 01



The world of fast cars is a dangerous one because, as they say, speed kills. It might even be argued that those who own fast cars are themselves dangerous, the reason being that they obviously intend to go fast in them and do all sorts of dangerous and generally stupid things. The police definitely feel this way, judging by how much extra attention they pay to any car that even looks fast, and the general public aren't that much impressed with them, or the people like me who pilot them, either. After what I saw that late May evening, I have to say that I can understand their feelings.

It happened when I was finally leaving work for the night, having just walked out the front door as the last agent on site with the night shift Floor Manager, Dagmar Alejandro. I'd been working overtime with a few other sales reps, busily cold-calling Americans and trying to separate them from their hard earned money by tempting them with accidental death and dismemberment insurance at less than ten dollars per month, first ninety days free with no commitment whatsoever. (yeah, right, and my name isn't David Legassy, just try to cancel this shit, lady) I heard the car coming, knew it was a muscle car by its exhaust note and quickly building RPMs, and jerked my head to the right to check it out. 

It was a red Mustang, really cranking nicely and sounding damned good at the top of its power band, flying up the recently widened and resurfaced Barling St.. I watched it with a growing smile, forgetting that the beautiful bitch from hell was there with me. With tunnel vision, I followed its path around the slight, blind, uphill bend in front of the call center. I figure its driver and I saw Kelly Preston, a fellow agent at the crosswalk, at about the same time. I don't think Kelly saw anything at all before the Mustang ran her down without stopping, or even slowing afterwards.

We both just stood for a moment as the red killer sped off in the distance, Dagmar probably wondering if that really happened like I was, whilst the petit Kelly's broken and inert form in the middle of the road constantly insisted it had. Somewhere inside I wanted to yell, cry and throw up all at the same time while I only stood, completely stunned.

Dagmar was the first one to move. She broke into a run and, despite her voluptuous build, sped across the front lawn while franticly digging out her cell phone. Then I moved. I walked down the driveway and towards the back parking lot where my car was parked. Why? I didn't want to be involved. 

That's right. I'd made an entire life of being uninvolved up to that point, keeping to myself and making money, serving myself and hurting nobody and, furthermore, I knew there was nothing to be done. She was dead, anybody could tell that and I didn't want to see it up close. I didn't want to and I didn't need to. Besides, Dagmar was there with her cell phone and it's not as if I knew CPR or anything. It had nothing to do with me and I just wanted to go home. I know how that makes me sound but, I assure you, I'm not that cold and uncaring, at least I don't think so. It's just that, as I say, I was uninvolved and that's how I wanted to stay.

----- ----- ----- -----

"Dagmar would like to see you." Sally the Supervisor whispered with a smile as she looked down over the top of my cubicle at me.

Why she found it necessary to whisper, who could say? She was always whispering with that stupid smile. Nodding optimistically, as if there was anything to be optimistic about when talking to Dagmar, she was off, a little whirlwind of positive productivity. I glanced at her ass as she walked down the aisle, the only positive thing about her in my eyes, logged off, removed my headphones and stood. The sound of just over three hundred people doing their damndest to keep their jobs, maybe even earning some sales bonus Dollars in the process, inundated me without the semi-soundproofed cubicle and I began heading down the long aisle towards Dagmar's office.

Of course, I knew what this was about.

The first time I saw Dagmar Alejandro was during the third night of my week long training class, when I'd first secured the job just over a year previously. She walked in the room wearing a black business suit with a tight skirt that stopped just above her knees. A lot of men would have been put off by the height and size of the woman who, I guessed, was in her very early forties, if not the 'all business' expression that seemed to never leave her face, but she captured my attention right away. My impression of her was that of a goddess. Her complexion was dark and I guessed, judging by her last name, that her gene pool consisted of a mixture of African and Spanish, the latter being the dominant. Her hair, long and jet black, was put up in such a way as some could still hang down at her shoulders with one stray lock dangling at the side of her face, as if attracting attention to her eyes, not that they needed it. They were brilliant green and attracted me like I've been attracted to very few women, but it wasn't just the colour, it was also the way they scanned the room, coldly, harshly appraising everyone present, including the instructor.

It's hard to describe that first reaction. I mean, I can say she was a goddess in my eyes, but it was more than that, more than just her physical appearance. She had a sort of powerful strength of personality about her, intelligent and uncompromising. The very impression she made on me seemed like an invisible extension of herself.

Those eyes caught mine before I could stop staring at her, before I could get over the funny feeling that popped up behind my sternum at the sight of her and we regarded one another for a moment. Her expression unwavering, she held my eyes as if daring me not to look away while the instructor was introducing her to the class.

I looked down, pretending to study the material in front of me, putting on a small frown of concentration as I looked at the people around me peripherally. They all seemed to take her seriously enough, alright, but none of them seemed completely taken aback by her like I was.

She addressed the class and I watched her again, listening to a voice which matched her demeanor, as strong and powerful as she was beautiful. Her eyes kept returning to me and I had to look down every time. What was it about her, anyway? I'd never been especially great with people, but this was ridiculous. After all, I'd learned to be a decent actor by the age of thirty-one, and I wasn't often put off by anybody. People were just herd animals to me.

In time, I began hearing the stories of what she was like. ' Tough', 'mean', 'bitchy', 'cold', 'heartless' and 'domineering' were only some of the words I'd often heard used to describe her. I'd even watched her personally escort several 'non performers', as she would refer to them, right out the front door in the year and three months I worked there.

But, by that time, I'd learned my job well. Very well. And in the telemarketing game, the numbers that are generated from the bottom make everyone look good, right on up the ladder. Yeah, they liked me a whole lot, especially Sally, and this was what insulated me from Dagmar's teeth and claws. Good thing, too, because ever since that first day, we never got along. Not that anyone really got along with Dagmar, but she seemed to have some special dislike of me that I could never quite understand. By the time my sales record made it unnecessary to worry about her anymore, I'd decided that she was a lesbo and hated men, or she thought I was a lowlife, or whatever. In the end, I just decided to try to ignore her and her beautiful, larger than life presence.


Dagmar Alejandro
Floor Manager


One couldn't help but notice that she was the only one on the management team whose door bore a polished black nameplate with red letters, the rest having a plastic wood grain plate with white letters.

I knocked.

"Come in!" she commanded in her usual bitchy, uppity tone that everyone had come to just love her for.

I did as commanded, a little nervous about what she'd think of me after I just took off the night before. She sat behind her desk with a strangely blank expression and wore the usual business suit that she always looked great in, if a little pretentious and overdone.

"Have a seat." she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk.

I took it and said, "Look, I'm sorry I took off last night. I just didn't want to see,... that."

She only regarded me with the same unreadable expression. She was reading me, I suddenly realized, reminding myself to be careful here. She and her people had taught me half of what I knew about dealing with others. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't.

"Uhh, look, I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to stick you with that, but you had your phone and, even if I knew CPR, it wouldn't have done any,... any good, cause she,..."

Why wouldn't she say something? This was starting to freak me out more than a little when she finally decided to speak.

"David Legassy.", she said, stating my name as if for the record. "Whatever will you do?"

"Huh?"

"What would they all think out there if they knew?" she asked.

I hesitated, mouth half open, and cocked my head curiously before replying with, "What are you talking about?"

"Your little accident last night?"

Now it was my turn to regard her in silence. What in hell was this?

She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, smiling ever so little as she began to explain.

They didn't catch the driver, as you obviously know. No leads, either. Of course, we know who it was.", she said, lifting the blotter on her desk and removing two Polaroid pictures from beneath it, tossing them across the desk to me. "The question is, should I tell anyone?"

They were pictures of the front of my Chevy Monza, complete with the license plate. Except the paint was cracked and broken on the flexible rubber front clip and one of the headlights was broken. There were blood smears there and on the dented hood and driver's side windshield. At the bottom of the pictures, on the wide paper strip, was printed in fine black marker, 'Kelly Preston', with yesterday's date.

"The ones the police will receive will come in an envelope that also includes a cloth soaked in Kelly's blood." she informed me, leaning back and casually crossing her legs.

"What?" I asked, looking from the pictures to her, back to the pictures and then to her again as I started to get her awful point.

"Nobody will be surprised, either. Not with how you peel out of that back lot every night. You're reckless. Something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later."

I couldn't say anything. I stared at her, totally speechless, trying to make sure this was actually real, that she was pinning this on me. It had to be some sort of twisted joke.

"This has to be some sorta twisted joke, right?"

"You honestly think I'd go to the trouble of vandalizing your car and planting evidence just for a joke?"



My mouth opened, but nothing came out. This couldn't be happening. Why would anyone do something like this? This just couldn't be.

"You,..."

"Yes, David?"

"You can't do,... this! I didn't hit her! What are you trying to do to me!?"

"I'd keep your voice down if I were you." she said, green eyes flashing with dark humor. "Attention is the last thing you want right now. As for what I'm doing to you, quite simply, I'm putting you in your place."

I shook my head, sure this had to be some wacky dream.

"You should see the look on your face." she said conversationally, smiling a little wider as though we were two friends sharing a joke. "It looks good on you, too, after the way you've been strutting around like you own the place. Breaking dress code, deviating from script no matter how many times I'd tell you to stop doing that, taking twice the amount of sick days, taking your own little unscheduled breaks,... The list goes on and on, David. And you sail right through, don't you? You know how many people above you look good on account of the numbers you generate. You know everyone looks the other way for you and you don't stop to think for one second that I'm the one ultimately responsible for your behavior. You're nothing. Nothing but an opportunistic, cocky, arrogant little punk with a rotten attitude who thinks he can fly in the face of my authority. And now I'm going to very much enjoy putting an end to you.

I couldn't argue any of that, as it was essentially all true. She leaned back in her chair and went on speaking, looking up at the ceiling as if reminiscent.

"Yes, you're right. There was nothing to be done for poor Kelly. But you know, as good as she was on the phones, she was an even better blood donor. I'll have to send her family a little something special,..."

She suddenly leaned forward again, resting her forearms on her desk and fixing me with a predatorial smile, telling me in a reassuring tone, "I haven't called the police yet because I wanted the chance to let you know it was me who delivered you to the wolves."

"How nice for me.", I said in a hollow tone, trying to grapple with this, still unable to quite accept that she was really doing this to me.

"A lot better for me.", she replied with a small laugh. "Oh yes, very much so. Knowing I could ruin you,..."

(Could ruin me?)

A small hope bloomed inside me and I wondered if it wasn't merely a false hope that she seemed to dangle there for her amusement.

"I wonder,... Would you be willing to beg for my mercy? I mean, right down on the floor here, on your knees with your hands clasped- no, I think I'd rather you clutching at the hem of my skirt."

She laughed out loud at this, then asked, "So what about it?"

"You're crazy." I informed her, feeling anger finally rising to take over the vacant driver's seat.

"You'd be surprised at how many people have told me that. Especially men. I rather enjoy bringing men down, you know. I suppose, to your limited mentality, it would seem crazy, however, from my perspective, it's really just some light entertainment provided by people who should have been bright enough to respect me.

"But I never did anything to deserve this!" I grated. "How can you,...? No! No, you can't! I'll go to jail for something I didn't even fuckin' do, how can you do that to me!?"

"Hmm. A little late for that now, don't you think? I mean, after all this time disrespecting me? If you'd been my friend, if you'd respected me, this wouldn't be happening now."

She held my eyes fast while I tried to figure a way out of this mess. But how? She'd manufactured evidence and,... Oh God, the damned car had to be sitting in the back lot like that right then! She'd probably done it on the last break and I had to get the hell down there and- How many people had already seen it!? 

"Ah, but you were too much of an arrogant little dog to be my friend, to pay me the respect I deserve and to cooperate with me, weren't you? And look what it got you. Again, I ask: Are you willing to beg me? Properly?"

I sensed she was standing at the head of some winding, twisted little garden path of her making while the deep blue sea awaited just beneath my heels.

"Would it do any good?" I asked her, glowering.

"You'll never know if you don't try, will you? But, if you use your head, you'll see it's a lot better to try and fail than to let your pride stop you. Just think how that will feel in the slammer. You'd never forgive yourself, would you? Especially not while your cellmate is forcing his cock up that cute little ass every night. I don't know, David, what do you think?" she asked me, facetiously thoughtful. "Do you have anything left to lose at this point?"

So, there it was. The invitation to step fully onto her garden path had been properly offered and she had every right to expect me to take it. I stared across the desk at her, desperately thinking, trying to see a way out of this, remembering those recent speeding and dangerous driving tickets that would be on my record. The longer the crime went unsolved, the more willing the police and everyone else on the planet would be to believe in Dagmar's little 'care package', and I simply had no hand that I could see at the present time. 

I slumped forward, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair, face in my palms if only so that I could think without having to look at her triumphant smile as she reclined again, looking at me while tapping a pencil on her blotter.

I'd even subtly insulted a few cops when I knew I could get away with it. They hated me, they'd be so willing to crucify me. If I ran to them now and counted on them to straighten this out, they'd only help Alejendro to railroad me all the quicker. The game had started before I ever realized. Now it was over and I'd lost. Even if she yanked it away at the last minute, I had to make a grab for that life preserver she'd thrown. I had to try to save myself in this little room where my life had suddenly gone to hell in a handcart in a matter of minutes through absolutely no fault of my own. I tried to swallow my anger, washing it down with as much pride as I could.

I looked up at her as I dutifully rose from my chair. She was still smiling that damned smile while I went around to her side of the desk as she swiveled in her chair, her green eyes flashing in pleasure at the prospect of what she knew I was about to do. I looked down at the carpet as I fell to my knees before her, praying nobody would walk in on this degrading little scene. Closing my eyes, I began.

"Dagmar-"

"Look at me when you beg like the little dog you are. And remember the hem."

It was a lot harder to ignore that comment than it would have been to kill her right then. I looked up, opened my eyes, took the hem of her skirt in my hand and began again in a wavery voice that I hoped sounded more sincere than hateful.

"Dagmar,... Please, please don't do this to me? I'm sorry I disrespected you. I,... I regret that totally and I see that you're nobody to fuck around with and-"

"More feeling."

" ... And I'm so regretful that I didn't cooperate with you like I should have, I continued with more feeling. "I should have seen what side my bread was buttered on and did what a good dog should."

It killed me, but I knew it was my best shot.

She only stared at me with that smile before answering, "Very good. Yet, so predictable. I knew you'd do it, you know, just like I know that you only say it because you need me on your side now. And what am I supposed to think of that?"

She suddenly grabbed me by the shirt front and hauled me up and forward, closer to her until her face was inches away from mine and I could smell her perfume, actually a very nice fragrance that didn't really help me to feel better about the situation at all.

"Well? What am I supposed to think of that?"

"Well, I- uh, I guess it's pretty cheap of me now, but-"

"Cheap? You're not even getting in on the ground floor with me, boy! More like the wrong foot! If you want to be forgiven, if you want me to spare the next eight to ten years of your life, you'd better accept that you have a lot to make up for!"

"Yes, I'm willing to-!"

"Shut up, boy!"

As I shut up, constantly worrying about my car out in the lot and with a very great need to get out there, I was mortified to feel my manhood actually twitch. A small part of my mind uncertainly shrilled that it was nothing, but the rest of my mind was too busy to listen. Things got even worse as she went on like a nightmare that one can't wake oneself from.

"How many times have we passed one another out on the floor? Out in the hall, or in the parking lot? I'd look right at you, maybe thinking I'd be nice enough to say hello to you, but you just waltzed right on by as if I didn't even exist every time. As if I were invisible! Pretending not to notice me like I'm some pattern on the wallpaper and now you want my mercy!?" 




Changes Ch. 01



"Dagmar, please, I was stupid" (Ohmigod, she's nuts, she's nuts somebody get me outta this!!) "and rude, please don't do it, please give me another chance!", I begged, no longer acting now.

"And for what reason would I- ... Ha. Heh, heh! Oh, David. I knew it.", she sneered, at least a little good humouredly now, while looking at the lump in my pants. "Oh yes, I did, boy. I know your type a mile away and I knew it of you from the first time I saw you."

I flushed, turning red as a beet to the sound of her low, dangerously sultry laughter. I couldn't speak at all now. I was completely humiliated and at her mercy, and all I wanted to do was just get out of her lair while I still had anything left to me at all. It seemed impossible at the time that, only a half hour ago, my biggest concern was topping the team sales board again.

"You just bought yourself a reprieve, boy." she said, letting me go and sitting back in her chair again. "Go sit back down."

I did as she said, still red faced and not knowing who I should hate more, her or myself. I was even ashamed of the hope I felt at this 'reprieve' she'd so generously granted me.

She started writing something on a stickit pad, ripping it off when she was done with it and reaching over her desk to slap it on the front of my shirt.

"I'm bound to have questions later on about you during your reprieve. I think it would be in your best interest to be there to answer them."

I peeled the stickit off my shirt tentatively, as if it could bite, and noted the floral background print along with her initials that artistically formed a black and red rose, complete with thorns, in the upper left hand corner. She'd written an address and a time.

"I expect you to be punctual, clean and dressed in decent, clean clothing and you will be respectful. I will not have some stupid, stinking dog in my home, do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Thinking of dead Kelley, five to ten years in a maximum security prison and my ever greater desire to get my car the hell out of there, I answered, "Yes, Ma'am."



Hell, I'd have told her any damned thing at that point.

"Then, go. I'm finished with you for now and, if you have a brain in your head, you'll know you have something that you really should attend to. Hm?"

I tried not to leap from the chair and scramble desperately for the door, praying she wouldn't change her mind and decide to hold me there longer, prolonging whatever in hell it was that she just did to me. I prayed she wouldn't say she was calling the cops after all and that my reprieve was all just a joke to fuck with my head and ha, ha, what an idiot I was,...!

I suddenly found myself outside her closed door, back in the din of a few hundred people yapping on the phone all at once. I noticed the fluorescents humming for some reason, I suppose appreciating the normalcy that seemed gone from me now. Some flunky who looked like he couldn't sell a campfire to a freezing man did a double take at the sight of me, faltering badly in his already poorly orated script. 

I pulled myself together the best I could, remembering that I had a job to do. I began walking quickly through the aisles with my head down, keeping my mind centered on what came next and praying the cops weren't already nosing around the back lot. 

I finally reached my cubicle but, instead of sitting down, I quickly grabbed my stuff, dumping it into my binder along with my headphones before zippering it closed. Sally walked up with a concerned look on her face as I was hastily throwing my old battered, black Levis jean jacket on.

"Is there someth-"

"I gotta go." I blurted, rudely cutting her off. "I'm sorry, but I just have to and there's no,... It's a family thing, I gotta,..."

"Okay, but,...", she trailed off, not liking the fact that her heavy hitter was leaving before the shift was even halfway through.

"Look, I got no choice." I called over my shoulder. "Please don't fire me, but I gotta go even if you do.", I finished, rushing for the outer hall and the stairs that would take me down to the back parking lot.

It wasn't some camera trick, the crazy bitch had actually done it. I could see it all, even in the dark. I glanced furtively around, super paranoid of cops while quickly unlocking the door. Firing my binder into the darkened recesses of the back seat, I threw myself inside, slamming the door shut after me. In my freaked out state, I dropped the keys twice before I managed to get it started with what I hoped was a quiet roar. I remember being actually surprised to make it out of the lot without being suddenly swarmed by police cars as soon as I engaged the clutch.



I felt just a little better when I finished pressure washing the car at the nearest Canwash, nosed into the bay of course. I whipped my shirt off and threw my jacket over my bare back, thoroughly scrubbing everywhere until the shirt was ruined, dousing everything in high pressure hot water and industrial strength suds again afterward.

I felt a little better still when I was able to make Canadian Tire before they closed, paying cash for a new headlight with an unfounded fear that the cops would be there watching the headlight aisle as my paranoia made me see blame and accusation on every strange face that set eyes on me.

I made it home, a dilapidated old mobile trailer sitting parallel with the lonely, rural road, the driveway curving around back to an equally dilapidated garage. I rushed the car into the garage that I called 'The Shack', pulled the door down behind it and bolted for the other shack that I called my house. In the kitchen, I dropped the cap from the bottle I kept in the cupboard and dumped enough whiskey down my gullet in one shot that I almost puked it all back up again.

A minute later, after sliding down to the floor in hopes of maybe seeing the lost cap down there somewhere, I relaxed some more. I had to focus, had to get things in some kind of perspective. The first order of business was to finish off the car.

I went back out and began working quickly, removing the hood to begin filling the dent. After finally getting the stretched sheet metal to stop popping up and down, I filled and sanded, primed and painted the hood black, as I didn't have any bright orange that matched my car. This posed a problem for the header panel. I managed to mix something pretty close, though, and blended it so that the colour change happened at corners and edges and could hide a little bit in the way the light would play over the car's surfaces. After installing the new headlight, I locked the garage down for the night, actually congratulating myself on how fast I got the job done, and rushed back inside to get cleaned up in time to reach Dagmar Alejandro's place, punctually as told.

Trying to finger-comb the rain out of my hair, I scanned the buzzer board in the locked front entry of Dagmar's condominium tower at twelve fifty-nine AM. I was looking for the button to PH5 as two seniors inside the the dimly lit lobby eyed me suspiciously. Finding it, I pressed the button and angrily whipped the rainwater from my hand to the floor while waiting for a response.

This time I was ready, I knew what to expect and my confidence had been shored up by some pizza that I heated up in my microwave oven before I left, my quick success with the car and, of course, the whiskey. She wouldn't get the better of me this time. She just couldn't run around doing this shit to people, least of all me. I mean, who in hell did she think she was? She may have had me at the time, and I was even willing to admit to that if need be, but I'd find wiggle room. I always did, one way or another.

"Hello?" her confident voice answered.

"It's me."

"And who's 'me'?", she demanded.

"Me, me!" I almost yelled at the little speaker in the console. "What, are you expecting a fuckin' milk delivery this time of night?"

There was a short pause before she spoke again, more than demanding now.

"You had better leave that attitude right down there in that lobby, mister! Let's not forget who's holding the cards! Understand!?

"Yes!" I grated.

"Get your skinny ass up here now!"

I opened my mouth to respond just as the bitch buzzed me in. I tore the door open, hard enough to make it bounce shut again with a slam behind me as the two seniors stared with alarmed and disdainful expressions. I stalked to the elevators and viciously jabbed at the button there a few times but, of course, the car was right there as if she'd sent it down for me. I walked in, the door automatically closing behind me as though sealing my fate. I poked the button for the penthouse level and wondered if that was real mahogany on the walls of the elevator car, and why would somebody who could afford to live in a place like this be working at a call center, anyway?

As the elevator car began its ascent, the anger that had sustained me to this point began to run out with each passing floor. My knees started to shake and I allowed my back to slide down the mahogany (?) walls to my haunches, massaging the bridge of my nose and trying to fathom how in hell I could have ever gotten myself into this mess. Then, of course, I remembered as I had to frequently do that evening. She had gotten me into this mess.

I didn't feel the elevator car stop. I only knew it arrived at the top floor when I looked up to see the door had already opened. I rose and walked slowly out into the lobby, turning to watch the doors close again, listening to the car descending and abandoning me there to sink or swim. I considered that she must be crazy for the umpteenth time that evening as I began to walk down the hall, my footfalls deep and loud despite the Persian runners that centered the tile floor.

Crazy, crazy, crazy bitch. But she had me and, even worse, she really had got the better of me earlier that day and that didn't sit very well with me. Not many people had ever done what she did, and not for one hell of a long, long time. I had no idea how I'd play the situation as I came to her door, I only wanted to avoid letting her make a knob out of me. Again!

I used the little brass knocker on her door and gazed down the hallway as I waited for her to answer. In theory, I could simply walk down that hallway, summon the elevator and take it down to the lobby. The parking lot. I could be back home to pack the car and be on the highway within two hours and-

The door opened, snapping me out of my little dream world.

At first I didn't think it was even her. Her hair was no longer up, rather down and full. She still wore her business suit, but less the jacket and the two top buttons of her blouse, attracting my eyes before I could even think to cleavage that boasted of large breasts that weren't apparent before. She'd left her heels on, probably because they brought her up to my six foot height and she'd most likely want to be able to look me in the eye. The expression on her now completely different, hair framed, beautiful face was not quite so attractive. She looked me up and down as if to question what right I had even being on God's green Earth.

"Get in here!" she ordered with a tone that could freeze Hell over.

I did and, when she slammed the door shut behind me, I actually heard an echo. We were in an octagonal entry, about ten feet in diameter with a ten foot ceiling and four opposing doors, including the one I'd just come through. Everything was stark white, including the ceramic tiles on the floor that supported no furniture whatsoever. Very nicely done, but very different.

She flipped one side of my unbuttoned jean jacket aside and grabbed up a pinch full of the old, blue flannel work shirt I wore with all the welding burns.

"What's this?"

"It's my shirt." I replied woodenly. "I'm in the middle of a laundry cycle and-"

"I hate it.", she said, letting it go and taking in the rest of me, nodding with an unamused grin. "Great. You came here looking like a retarded migrant worker. Just great."

She turned and walked to the door opposite the one through which I'd entered, adding, "Hang your coat, remove Wild Bill Hickok's boots, and come in. Make yourself a drink, I'll be right with you. You may not smoke." she informed, opening the door and walking through. She stopped halfway to turn back, adding, "And get rid of that stupid shirt! Let's see if you can at least get that right, shall we?"

With that, she was gone and, after mocking her last words in a whisper and exaggerated expression, I walked to one of the side doors, which indeed turned out to be a closet where I hung my jacket and stuck my boots. I kept my shirt on anyway because I didn't wear a T-shirt under it at that time of the year. 

Wandering through the doorway she'd used a minute earlier, I was struck by the difference between the entry and her front room. The clever use of polished black surfaces, marble and different earth tones made a rich, but cozy atmosphere. The high ceiling disappeared in dark shadows while the lighting level below adequately lit the plants that were everywhere and the furniture, all suggestive of comfortable style and class. Coming through that entry and into there made me feel as though I'd just walked through some tear in reality and ended up,... in the dragons den.

From somewhere, Melissa Etheridge was softly singing out that "we got nowhere to go" and I could easily sympathize.

Spying her bar, I walked over to it, warily looking around myself as though Dagmar could spring from some dark, hidden corner at any moment. I found something that I was pretty sure was rye, but with a non English label (Spanish?) that I'd never seen and couldn't decipher. I removed the cap and took a sip. It was very good rye. The psycho bitch had style, I had to give her that as I looked around again, making my way to the U-shaped sectional with a long, wooden stand wrapped all the way around its outside perimeter. I sat, feeling slightly better for the sip I took, taking another more generous one while trying not to remind myself of how bad it was just to be in her office, in a relatively public setting.

Presently, Her Royal Freakishness returned and was about to say something when she stopped and shot an angry scowl. She hustled the rest of the way over to rudely grab the bottle from my hand.

"I said to make yourself a drink, not to guzzle it from the bottle like a barnyard pig!"

She put it back on top of her bar and came back around to sit opposite me, legs crossed, back straight, perched there much like a teacher, or a gargoyle. She proceeded to simply stare with that cold expression of hers, holding my eyes.

A sibling and I had often played 'staredown' as children and I'd won a lot more often than not, however, my angered indignation dissipated quickly once I knocked on her door and I found that Dagmar brought a whole new level to that little game. Just the same, I resolved to outlast her patience with me, to stand on and maintain some level of integrity with her, somehow.



Unfortunately, I was acutely aware of the material straining at that button on her white blouse and found part of my mind vaguely wondering just how big her tits were. I didn't dare try for a closer look because God only knew what she'd do and, besides, it really wasn't productive for me to be thinking of my blackmailer in that way.

Finally, to my short lived gratification, she spoke.

"Why did you flout me at work all the time?"

This caught me right off guard and I shifted my eyes to the floor, replying, "I dunno."

She leaned forward and suddenly slapped my face hard. I couldn't believe how fast she did it, even turning my head to the right with the force of her strike. I wanted to keep looking that way in order to avoid looking at her, to avoid some accidental, although silent communication featuring my great need to kill her right then.

"Don't lie to me! Your first lie, one slap. Your second, two slaps, your third,..." She took my chin, somewhat gently turning my face to hers again. "Well, I'm sure even you get the picture, hm?"

"Apparently, you should just be happy I'm even looking at you."

As soon as those words left my mouth, I regretted them. For her part, her hand dropped from my chin as her face went through a range of expressions from confusion, disbelief, insult, then finally to anger before she shot up and left the room without a word.

I sat, mortified and wondering what she would do to make me pay for that, but also fiercely proud that I'd had the nerve to do it, that I'd showed her-

She came stomping back in from the hallway, moving very quickly with something in her hand. It looked like the handle end of a whip that somebody'd ruined by cutting it in half and unbraiding it. The next thing I knew, she was right in my lap, her knees straddling my thighs. She pressed the handle of the ruined whip to my mouth and grabbed my throat. Instinctively, I raised my arms to get her the hell off me.

"Don't even think about raising a hand to stop me!" she seethed. "I'll beat you with this flogger till you scream! I WILL BEAT YOU UNTIL YOU CRY, DAVID! AND YOU WILL STAND THERE! YOU WILL TAKE IT! BECAUSE YOUR ONLY ALTERNATIVE IS A BIG, LONELY GUY NAMED BUBBA, SITTING SOMEWHERE IN A PRISON CELL WAITING FOR A WIFE TO DROP IN HIS LAP!", she shouted in my face, her full, red lips sneering as she continued. "DO I HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT AGAIN!? DO I HAVE TO MAKE IT ANY SIMPLER FOR YOU!?"

This was the kind of thing I was afraid of, and I was afraid. I sat in shock, eyes wide and locked on her face, not daring to move a muscle other than the ones I needed to hastily shake my head.

"AND WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?"

Mercifully, she'd removed her hand from my throat and the flogger from my mouth, grabbing a handful of my shirt instead. She began tearing it off of me by the fistful, piece by piece, in a rage, shouting and emphasizing her words with a violent yank.

"I TOLD YOU - to get RID OF - this FUCKING - STUPID - SHIRT!!"

She was totally tripping now and it was all I could do to not try to ward her away, to keep my face out of the way of her flying fists.

By the time she was done and I was barebacked, my shirt now only scattered rags around the area, she seemed to have calmed down a little. She got off me, standing suddenly and glaring at me. After this display of shock and awe, all I could do was stare back, hoping it was over and dreading whatever reasons she had me there. So far, this was indeed making my time in her office seem preferable.

Then I noticed that the strained button on her blouse had come undone during her maniacal attack. A lot of cleavage and a fair amount of an incredibly white, lace bra showed. Her breasts heaved as she angrily brushed her hair back out of her face and I couldn't believe I'd be distracted by that at such a time.



I was scared shitless, even though she was a woman. I'd never hit a woman in my life, would have a damned difficult time doing it and, if I did, Dagmar was far from the woman to start with, considering what she was holding over me. Anyway, I had a feeling she wouldn't have done that if she wasn't able to somehow back it up. 

I tried not to allow my eyes to go back to her tits, but they did anyway, despite the fact that only minutes ago I was imagining myself choking the life out of the bitch, choking her until her head exploded. She was an emotional roller coaster ride without safety restraints. 

She walked a few paces away, thumb and finger on her forehead, elbow sticking out and staring at the floor, obviously trying to simmer down. She propped her other hand on her hip, striking a very sexy pose and (Oh, fuck no, what the hell!?) that's when I started to get hard.



She finally went to the bar and, as she mixed herself a drink, tersely ordered over her shoulder, "Stand."




Changes Ch. 01



I nervously complied, feeling very uncomfortable without my shirt, even vainly relieved in some small measure that I was at least in half decent shape.

Dagmar made her way back inside the sectional and sat across from me, leaning back and placing her drink on the wrap around table behind. She left her arm lying along the back, one leg bent and lying on the seat cushion, her other foot on the floor. I refused to look at the inner thigh she'd exposed, any more than I'd allow myself to think about the top of her stocking and garter straps I glimpsed as I got even harder. 

She looked directly at me and said in a mild, though detached tone, "David, you may find this hard to believe, but I'm actually being very patient, very tolerant of you. Don't make me regret it by lying and mouthing off. You're the one who will end up paying for it in the end, one way or another. Now, I'd hoped to avoid this, had hoped you'd get the picture, being the bright little sales rep you are, but apparently that's not enough. Apparently, you're having trouble accepting how your life changed yesterday evening."

She reached behind her and took a sip from her glass as I casually clasped my hands in front of my full erection. Hey, this voluptuous woman was basically my fantasy. I found it to be a sick and cruel irony of fate that I also hated her. Putting the glass down again, she returned her gaze to me and continued.

"I went to a lot of trouble to put you where you are now, make no mistake. Don't think I don't have it completely covered. Don't think I haven't ensured that you'll get put away, I would never leave myself vulnerable to you, or my own actions and I never do things halfway. Ever. You'll learn that in time, boy. The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be for the both of us. Do you understand?"

"Yes.", I said in a small voice, feeling my erection beginning to fade a little as I concentrated on what she was saying. (Thank God!)

"Good.", she replied, her narrowed eyes fixed on mine. "Because if I have to explain this to you again,... Well, time for your first real instruction, I think. From here on, you will always, always refer to me as 'Mistress', and you will never refer to me in any other way. I do not expect or want you to use it with everything you say to me, as in, 'yes, Mistress, No Mistress', because that becomes tiresome and irritating. Do you understand?"

(Oh, fuck me, what in hell is this!?) "Yes."

"Also, I do not want to have to ask you if you understand after every instruction, that also becomes tiresome, and tiresome is something you can no longer afford to be. Besides, I've had a lot of time to study you, your resume, your employee file and your calls. I know you're not stupid, not for a man. I shouldn't have to ask, should I?"

"No."

"If I say something, or instruct you in a way you do not understand, simply ask me to clarify."

"Yes."

"Yes, Mistress." she amended for me. "Just because I want to hear you say it."

"Yes,... Mistress." I got out, even though it almost killed me.

She chuckled, "You didn't like that, did you?"

"No.", I said with a tight voice. "I guess you'll have to punish me for that."

"I wouldn't be so eager if I were you. No, boy, I won't ever punish you for telling the truth. It's not as if I didn't know it anyway, is it?"

"I don't suppose." I ground out.

"I also know how you feel about me. That will change. In time, you'll come to appreciate and love me like you've never loved any woman, like you never even knew you could love. I know, you have a hard time believing it, but I guarantee it."

I seriously doubted her predictions.

"From here on, you will always do what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you and you will not deviate from complete obedience to me."

" ... Yes." I miserably complied, wondering vaguely if I'd really gotten total rid of Kelly Preston from my car. How could I ever really know?

"You hesitated, boy."

"I- I'll be completely obedient to you, Mistress."

"Excellent.", she toned, grinning wider. "Now, remove your clothes."

" ... My,... clothes,...?"



"Need I clarify, boy?"

" ... No.", I replied, resignedly moving my hands to my belt, taking my time about undoing it as I turned beet red, much to her amusement as she watched. I couldn't even look at her, only heard her chuckle softly again as I looked at the lush, tan carpet, slowly unbuttoning the front of my black jeans and pushing them down, allowing them to fall to my ankles. I stepped out of them and removed my sox as well.

"Aw, you should see yourself. Look at me."

I did, unable to look her directly in the eye but silently pleading with her not to humiliate me any further by having me remove my underwear.

It wasn't that I felt I had anything to be ashamed of, it's simply that I was a lot more modest than some guys who look a lot worse and seem to have no trouble removing their clothes in front of a woman under any circumstances. In fact, I couldn't even run around with my shirt half unbuttoned in the summer, no matter how hot it was. Having to strip in front of her, of all people, was damned hard but, considering the way my shirt came off that evening, I now had a vested interest in keeping her from becoming upset with me.

"I'll let you keep those cute little boxer briefs for now, boy.", she graciously allowed, settling back a little more, looking me over with a wider, hungry grin as she took her glass in hand and my flush deepened even further. Turn around for me."

I did this as she sipped.

"Very nice, boy." she said. "Yes, I like my new pet. "Now tell me: Why do you ignore me at work?"

" ... I,..."

"Yesss?" she asked, shifting position, her skirt riding up a little further as I felt my damned cock twitch again.

"I- You,... Well, you're a little intimidating and I knew you didn't like me, so,... I thought it would be the safest thing to do.", I explained truthfully, my humiliation having overcome my anger to quite a degree.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Curious. Yes, very curious, seeing as I know how you're attracted to me. And by the way, I liked you just fine, at least at first."

I closed my eyes, holding my hands over my rapidly growing erection and hoped she wouldn't challenge me to deny her statements.

"Isn't that right?"

I could only nod, looking down at the carpet again in miserable humiliation, wondering how she pegged me so easily based on that one time we really looked at one another in the training class.

"It's okay.", she said, leering and purposefully hiking her skirt up with her hands until I could see a little of her white lace panties and garter straps, forcing me completely erect again. "If I didn't know this about you from the beginning, you wouldn't be here now. You can look at my body any time you want, by the way, just make damned good and sure that when you're speaking to me, you're looking me in the face."

"Yes, Mistress." I mumbled, eliciting a low chuckle from her. "Can I put my pants back on now?"

"Say please."

" ... Can I please put my pants back on now?"

"No. Take your underwear off and show me your cock. I know you're hard."

"Noooooooo!" I whined under my breath, much to her furthered amusement.



"Oh yes, pet. Pull them down for me so I can see. I've waited long enough for this."

I slowly took my hands away, slid my thumbs in the waistband at my belly and took a deep breath, hesitating with closed eyes before slowly pushing them down to my thighs, from where they dropped to my ankles.

"Stop covering yourself up, leave your hands at your sides." she said, rising from the couch. 

She slowly and seductively pulled her skirt up the rest of the way and began to circle me, again looking me up and down. She began pinching here, prodding there, testing the tone of my body in various locations. She squeezed an ass cheek and gave it a sharp, unexpected slap, making me gasp and jump, she chuckling as she appraised me like she would a farm animal at auction. Standing behind me, she kicked my feet apart to shoulder width and ordered me to bend at the waist and touch my toes.

I wasn't even sure I could still do this, but words can't describe my humiliation when I did.

"I don't want to see those knees bent at all." she told me as she went on with her inspection back there. "Yes,... good, nice and clean. And again, very nice, boy. Now, stand straight for me."

I complied, thinking things couldn't get any worse.

Mind you," she cautioned, staring right at my cock now, "there's room for improvement here and there, but this is perfect."

Then, with that predatorial smile, she ran her finger up the front of my member, through the dribble of precum there, coaxing more out the tip. She slipped that finger into her mouth while looking at me, still smiling.

"Mmm.", she approved before sitting down again, taking another long look while I looked at her sensual hips and sexy panties, so white against her dark skin.

"No prior tattoos or piercings, I notice. That definitely works in your favor. Look at me, pet. That's better. So, do you want to get dressed now, go home and wait for the police to come and collect you, or are you going to submit yourself to me?"

"Sub,... mit?"

"Yes, submit. Jail and all it brings, or total submission to me, what'll it be?"

There wasn't anything to think about, of course. I only hesitated because anyone would. I hesitated because I had to have time to wonder (once again and just as uselessly as the previous thousand times that day) how in hell I got messed up in this and how I was ever going to get out. I got the feeling she knew this from the expression on her face and was actually enjoying this hesitation on my part. So I just told her. (shit!)

"I'll submit."

"No, refer to me properly when you say that and I said, total submission, boy."

" ... "I totally submit myself to you, Mistress."

"I accept your submission, boy."

And there it was. Her brightest smile of the evening sealed it. She took another sip of her drink, relaxed into the sectional a little further whilst looking me up and down again before asking a lot of questions. 



Changes Ch. 01



I used to be a part-time cross dresser, male in every physical way, but dressing up occasionally for the fetish fun of it. But now I wear panties all the time and I don't even own male underwear any longer. Actually it's way more than that now, and I feel like I am not in control of my own life at all any more. The evolution toward this started abruptly, but successive subtle changes after that resulted in burnt bridges behind me, and an inability to go back. When I think about it now it seems like the transformation to what I am now happened in the blink of an eye. But it didn't. And there were decisions and forks in the road in many places, choices that I could have made in other ways. But I didn't. In hindsight, I wonder if those choices were never mine to be made; I was simply sliding down a slippery incline with no way to resist.

I need to write this down and make some sense of it all. This is my story.

Friday had been a tough day. An email had been sent to everyone in the company at 9:00 AM sharp telling us to stay in our offices until further notice. We knew what was coming; the rumors had been swirling around the water cooler, but it was still a shock when the knock came on my door and I was told I had to clean out my desk and leave the premises. A huge shock. I had never been laid off before, and despite the generous terms triggered by my employment contract (two year's salary, or $300,000), it hurt me deeply that my work seemed to add no value to the company.

I spent the weekend drinking too much wine while my wife tried to console me. She said all the right things, "I love you honey; nothing can change that" or "I make as much as you do, so we'll be okay." It all made sense actually, and by Sunday night I had come around to the idea of taking some time off and not even searching for a new position for a while. I needed time to heal.

And so, on Monday morning, after Sarah left for work at 7:30, I sat in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking a coffee, alone, and getting more edgy by the minute. Stress always did this to me; I had to get dressed. By 8:30 I was sitting in the kitchen again dressed in a skirt and blouse, pantyhose and high heels, my eyelids heavy with mascara, and my lips tasting like cherry. I don't know what it is, but I love the feel of a tight girdle and bra, and I remember breathing the tightness in, like moist morning mist. I closed my eyes and said to myself, "Yes, this is what I needed."

Suddenly the near term future looked bright as I realized I could now dress up every day without Sarah ever knowing. It was perfect. As the freedom of that sank in, I decided to play an ABBA CD and just walk about the house, feeling uninhibited as the female that I wanted to be today, but was afraid to be in real life, and didn't dare to be outside, ever. The silicone breast inserts jiggled and bounced in my bra as I walked, and I even twirled so that my skirt flared out. I turned the music up louder. After the last three days of stress, it felt like heaven.

I saw myself in the mirror over the fireplace and paused to stare. The look wasn't too bad, I thought, shoulders a bit too wide maybe, but otherwise not too bad at all. I was a slight man of 30 then, five foot seven and about 135 pounds, with hair to match the blond wig I was wearing, and a face with delicate features. I would never be a manly man, and that allowed this clothing and makeup to "take" in an effective way. But my wardrobe was severely limited due to a lack of hiding places for my secret stash.

Sarah didn't know, and I decided years ago that I would never tell her. In fact, I couldn't tell anyone, not even my psychologist in my many visits to deal with recurring depression. The thought of anyone knowing about my deviant behavior would cause my skin to crawl and my gut to wrench itself into knots. Looking back on that time, I know that was the reason for my mood difficulties in the first place. Hiding in plain sight is an arduous and stressful task.

I sat down at the table in the kitchen once again, feeling that delicious coolness and tightness of the pantyhose on my legs. The nylon and Lycra hissed slightly as the second skin on one leg shifted across the other leg. It gave me goose bumps, and I shivered slightly. I reached for my still warm coffee, having to turn slightly. That was when I saw her.

Sarah stood at the entrance to the garage with an astonished look frozen on her porcelain face, like a wax figure in a chamber of horrors. "Steve?" she said weakly, "Whoa! I, uh, I thought maybe you needed company and TLC so I decided to phone in sick. You, umm, what's going on here? Why are you, oh Jeez...? What IS this?"

Like a child, I reflexively dropped down behind the counter and peered over it at her. For the first few moments I was speechless, and the moments following that I was little better, only mouthing, "Jesus! Oh God, Jesus, I, oh, no oh no, Jesus!"

"Maybe I should have stayed at work," she mumbled, "Oh my God; you're a transvestite then? I...Jesus Steve, help me here...are you a transvestite?" I could see the beginning of glassy eyes, watery tears, not sad tears, not happy tears, just female tears of shock and fear.

"Sarah, oh my God Sarah, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to see me like this, ever!" I stood up and she observed me from head to toe. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and I felt like a bad puppy that had just peed on the floor. "Shit!" I yelled.

After the initial shock of being caught, I had regained my senses, and now that I realized our relationship had changed in an instant, there had to be some sort of discussion and reconciliation here. "Sarah, can you come back in half an hour and we can talk?" I said. I needed time to get changed and collect my thoughts.

There were tears ready to plummet out of her eyes and down her cheeks. But in her eyes, I saw the first twinkling of anger as she said, "No, I'm staying right here, and you are too. What's going on? I asked you if you were a transvestite. Are you gay or something? And why the hell didn't you tell me about...about this?" Her eyes travelled the full length of my feminized figure in her visual description of "this".

I wanted to hug her, to quell her fears. That's what made this so difficult; my attire did not allow that. She was so beautiful, the love of my life, blonde like me, the same height and roughly the same weight, but the clear difference was that she was naturally feminine; I was not. Her breasts were real; mine were not. She carried herself in that mysteriously feminine way; I did not.

Her mascara and eyeliner were beginning to run away in tiny trickles down her cheeks and it broke my heart. "Sarah," I said, "I love you so much. I'm not gay. A transvestite? I don't know really." I searched for words and decided to just be direct and spill it all. "I like to wear women's underwear and clothes. I like the feel of tight clothes and lace and silk, and high heels, all of it."

"Why?" she asked innocently.

"Why? I don't know. Why do people like certain foods? Why do people crave sex? Why do..."

Sarah cut me off. "Wait, you compare this to sex?" she asked, incredulously, "Is this a sexual thing for you? Is this like sex?"

I froze. Then I answered with a single word, "Yes." I didn't want to tell her that it was a sexual fetish, that I often masturbated while dressed as a woman. I couldn't tell her that, and my single word answer made it unnecessary. She knew.

"Oh fuck!" she mumbled, and then she let out a big sigh before saying with resignation, "So, why the hell didn't you tell me, and where do we go from here?"

She was looking at me strangely, occasionally squinting her eyes as if trying to understand my fashion sense. "Your skirt is on backwards," she said, matter-of-factly.

"What?" It seemed so out of context to the drama unfolding between us.

"Your skirt is on backwards. The zipper goes at the back. It's not like pants you know; you don't need a zipper in front."

My turn to be incredulous. "What?" I said. Nonetheless, I instinctively rotated the skirt around so that it faced the right way. I straightened my blouse that had become twisted with the rotation of the skirt.

"Never mind," she continued, "I guess this explains the panties I found under the bed a few weeks ago. I thought you were cheating on me. I'm kind of relieved actually. But wait...come to think of it, you are cheating on me, but not the way I thought. This is weird. Really, really weird."

"Sarah, please...I'm, I'm still Steve."

She stared at me for a long minute and replied, "No, you're not. You're not the same Steve any more, not now. Stephanie maybe, but not Steve."

I asked the question for which I dreaded the answer, "Sarah, please don't...are you going to leave me?"

"No! What? Why would you even think that? I love you too you know! But I have to ask, umm, you do find me sexually attractive though don't you?"

"Of course I do! Jesus, Sarah, you walk into a room and I get excited; you go away and I miss you."

"But is this important to you?" she asked.

I squirmed with this question. It was important to me. I used it to steady myself in difficult times, to calm myself during good times. I looked down at the floor and answered, "Yes."

"Then we need help."



Changes Ch. 02



I received no messages from James in the two weeks after our encounter. It was good for me that he gave me some time to come to terms with my situation. I had to deal with the fact that I had gone outside my marriage for sexual gratification. I also had to deal with the fact that the gratification I sought was pretty much outside of what most consider normal. 

Through it all ran the little scene of James telling me to come. The raw physical nature of where he had me when he said that was intoxicating...addicting. Turning myself over to James was the most thrilling and terrifying thing I had ever done. As much as I loved my husband, as much as I wanted to simply be "normal", I couldn't turn back now that I had sampled this darker side of me.

Over the two weeks following my exciting encounter, I came to grips with my desires. I told myself that I wouldn't let a confused society with roots buried in Calvinist and Puritan mores determine normal or acceptable for me. I alone would determine whether or not something was acceptable. I decided that it was time to experiment and stretch my erotic wings a bit.

I considered the thrill I had received from my experience with James. It was about becoming more by letting go...letting go of control, letting go of society's imposed rules, letting go of my self. When I let go of the roles of wife, daughter, business woman, "good girl", etc., that I had assumed for society, I allowed myself the freedom to experience without the filters that those roles imposed on me. 

It was hard to let go like that. I was sure that the effort of getting beyond the socially acceptable roles would always be difficult for me. So much of my basic self was tied to them. It would take someone like James to tease and draw the slut out of the lady. However, I decided that I would not allow them to straight jacket me into missing out on the incredible experiences that I might have.

During this time, sex with Matt continued to be infrequent. He never seemed have the time, interest, and energy together at the same time. My sexual engine was running on overtime. I was more physically aware than at any other time in my life. My skin tingled with sensual excitement. I was constantly horny. 

I finally came to the conclusion that I very much wanted to continue with exploring my new erotic self. On the Monday two weeks after my encounter, I decided to send James an e-mail when I got home from work at the gym.

That very day I noticed a parchment envelope under the wiper blade as I walked to my car after showering and cleaning up. It was addressed to me. I sat in the car and drew out a handwritten note and a map. It was from James. He knew I was ready even before I contacted him.

I flushed from head to foot with fearful excitement. I savored the mixture of feelings and delayed reading anything. I just sat there quivering in excitement, fear, and enormous sexual arousal. Just knowing that he had sent me a note (and a map!) put me on the verge of orgasm. It also refreshed every fear and doubt that I had harbored over the last weeks. How could I, a happily married woman, allow myself to be in this position.

I slowly read the note:

Kim,

By now you have come to terms with our little experience. If you are interested in more, simply come visit me right now. The physical path to my home is outlined on the map. Your path is outlined in my mind. 

As always, you can simply throw this away and we need not continue.

James

What a rush of excitement. James seemed to know just what to do and when to do it. I was about to burst from the combination of fear, excitement, embarrassment, and lust. 

The map was easy to follow. It lead me to a large Victorian house in town. It was one of those old beautiful buildings that are part of where the wealthy in Austin have lived since the civil war. I parked on the street and spent a couple of minutes trying to gather myself.

The walkway from the front gate to the front somehow seemed to be hundreds of miles long as well as just a couple of steps. It seemed like I walked up the path forever, but reached the door almost at once. My breath was short and my heart was hammering as I rang the bell. I tried to calm myself in the stillness after the notes rang. I would soon know exactly who James was.

The door was opened by a young girl in a grey maids outfit with crisp white apron. She could have been anything from 12 to 25 depending on how you looked at her. She was pretty with that barely contained under the surface sensuality you see in so many latinas. Her dark eyes were somehow wisely innocent.

"I...uh...I'm here to see Mr....uhh...I'm here to see James." I wasn't expecting to have to see anyone but my secret lover. This girls presence left my tongue in a small Gordian knot.

"Sí Señora. Venga por favor adentro." She stepped back and gestured me in.

She led me through the large foyer and into what the builders of this old mansion must have called the Ladies Parlor. The room was just off of the main entryway, and had another doorway leading farther back into the house. It was decorated with incredible antique furniture. The maid led me to a small couch that sat before a large coffee table. 

"Por favor espera aquí," she said. Then the young woman backed out of the room. 

As I listened to her footsteps recede, I contemplated rushing back out the front door. I had not been prepared to encounter anything quite like this. In my minds eye, I had built a vision of a condo with a loft, with James in a silk robe welcoming me. The whole "old-money with servants" thing has really spooked me. I was off balance and out of control again. It seems that James knew just how to keep me there.

The maid came back into the parlor bearing a silver tray. She set it on the table before me then met my eyes. As I looked at her she smiled a beaming smile that lit her eyes and made her look to be on the younger end of the scale I had imagined for her. The girl turned and left the room without any words.

I looked at the tray. On it sat a handwritten note in parchment and a black silk blindfold.

Kim,

1. Remove your clothes and fold them neatly on the table. 

2. Place the blindfold over your eyes and make sure that NO light can get in. 

3. Seat yourself and wait for Carmelita to bring you to me.

As always, we need not continue. You may simply walk out the door and I will not bother you ever again. While we are playing, you need only to whisper "Halt" and I will stop. Keep in mind that if you do stop the proceedings, they are immediately and forever over.

James

I was torn. The part of me that grew up being a good girl, that was now good wife and a proper independent business woman, that was a "lady" in the Emily Post sense of the word, wanted nothing more than to leave in a huff. That part of me said that what I was doing was wrong, that I should go and write this whole thing off as a bad experience and walk the straight and narrow path henceforth.

Another part of me took this as a challenge to be met. I could regain control of myself, either by leaving or (better yet) by participating and gaining an upper hand in the process. However, that path was risky, it had not worked before and the ease with which James managed to keep me off balance made it seem unlikely that I would gain an advantage.

The part of me that had brought me to this house, that had masturbated remembering the orgasm in the tanning room, and had given me tight nipples and wet panties on the way here saw this as the opportunity to become a decadent slut. The physical and emotional rush I received when I had submitted to James before was beyond anything I had ever experienced. It called to me at a very deep level.

I was frozen in place before the table. I couldn't bring myself to take any course of action. Slowly I stood. Whatever I chose to do, I would have to stand. I looked about the room, taking in the furnishings. Outside, birds hopped from limb to limb on the big shade tree in front of the bay window. My brain was stuck as surely as a geared machine with monkey wrench inserted. The lady and the tramp were deadlocked in battle.

I stepped towards the front door, forcing my feet to break the glue holding them to the floor with each step. As I moved past the end of the coffee table, I glanced back at the silken black blindfold. The chiaroscuro of light and shadow in the folds of silk arrested my progress towards the door. I took a step back and bent to touch the silk. It was soft and sensuous. I could feel the warmth where the sunlight had struck the black silk. 

I don't know how long I stood there holding the blindfold. It could have been seconds, it cold have been twenty or more minutes. After however long passed, though, I looked around the room again. Everything seemed a bit brighter and more in focus. I knew what to do and that decision seemed to enhance my senses and make me more alive.

I placed the blindfold back on the tray and turned my back to it. Then I quickly stripped and folded my clothes, stacking them on the arm of the couch. Once I was nude, I turned and faced the blindfold that had seduced me. I held it to my face, feeling the soft brush of the smooth silk against my cheek. I sat down and transferred my clothes onto the table and put on the blindfold. It easily adjusted to block out all light.

I sat there with my heightened senses, smelling the polish on the furniture, listening to the birds out the window, feeling the texture of the upholstery against my legs. I trembled and waited.

It wasn't very long before I heard the soft steps of the young maid come into the room. I felt myself blushing at my exposure to this stranger. She took my hand and guided me to stand before the couch. She turned me and checked the security of the blindfold with little tugs. Then she led me out the back door to the parlor and into the unknown part of the house. 

She led me down a flight of stairs and into a room that had the cool feeling of a basement. There was no musty basement odor, but the air had that cool damp earth feel to it. The sounds of the floor and the echoes from the walls supported the basement feeling. 

The little maid turned me and backed me against a thick pole. It felt like polished wood, almost as thick as a phone pole. She left me there, arms at my sides and my back to the pole. My stomach felt just like I imagined it would if I leapt from a tall balcony. I was quivering with fear and anticipation. The "Lady" in me was dying of humiliation, and knew that more was to come. 

I heard his footsteps cross the room. I sensed his body close to mine. My nipples crinkled. I sniffed the air trying to get his scent. He smelled clean and masculine. I wanted his touch.

"Hello, Kim. Welcome to my home." James whispered softly in my ear. 

"Hello." 

He chuckled. "I think we know each other well enough to use first names. You may call me Mister James, or Sir. I will call you anything I want. How does that sound, Slut?"

Slut! The whispered sibilant word echoed in my head. I felt my body running through its fight or flight checklist. Adrenaline was released and muscles flexed as my subconscious prepared my body to flee. My conscious mind grasped for control. 

"Any...anything you say...Sir."

Another deep chuckle. "You seem to understand the rules."

I felt him grasp my hand. The electricity of his touch charged my libido. He wrapped a soft velvety loop over my hand and snugged it to my wrist. My captor/lover then bound my other wrist similarly. He stepped away and I suddenly felt my arms lifted over my head. He pulled them up until I only had the faintest amount of weight on my heels. I wasn't quite on my tiptoes, but I certainly couldn't stand flatfooted. 

"Now we begin, my little slut. You must surrender yourself to me completely. That takes time as we must build trust. You can only let go just so far with a stranger. It is not until you completely trust me, until you give yourself completely to me without holding anything back, then you can experience complete pleasure." 

His voice was no longer a whisper. He had a rich voice that I recognized, but couldn't place.

"It is going to take some time for you to develop that trust. We will build to it over time. You have already made a lot of progress today. Watching your struggle after you read my note was terribly exciting for me. I knew you were going to strip for me, but I didn't know how long it would take you to realize it."

I felt him brushing the back of his hand up my side as he spoke. My skin tingled. I could smell my own arousal. I hungered for his intimate touch. 

"You are quite lovely. Standing there with your arms tied above you. The contrast between your white skin and the black silk on the blindfold is really striking."

He caressed my cheek as he said this. His hand held so much power.

"You are here and in my control voluntarily. That is quite a compliment. Thank you. I want you to remember that everything we do is voluntary for you. You can end our relationship with one little magic word. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, yes I understand."

There was a sudden burning pain in my right nipple accompanied by a loud pop. I gasped at the sudden pain.

"You mustn't forget to whom you speak, slut."

"Yes, sir. I understand Mister James."

"Do you remember the magic word that ends this and turns you back into a prim, upstanding, little citizen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. To continue in our little session today, we will reinforce the voluntary nature of your participation. For the rest of your visit here today you will ask, beg, for every punishment or pleasure I allow you. That should help you remember that you want these things, don't you think?"

"I...I...yes, sir." I was completely lost in this event. My breast burned and tingled where it had been struck. My pussy was drenched with moisture. 

"To start with, I like things to be even. Balance is an important thing in life. When things are out of balance, they are ugly. Right now you are ugly. You have a bright red mark and a little swelling on your right nipple where my riding crop helped you remember my name. What should we do about that?"

I stopped breathing. I knew what he wanted, but couldn't choke out any words. I felt the sand of his patience passing through the hourglass. I had to say it.

"Please, sir. Please balance my breasts."

"Well, well. The cat didn't get your tongue. Try just a little harder now. Be specific and don't use the polite words, little slut." 

"Please, sir. Hit my...my left titty with your crop." It was easier this time. I felt momentary pride and satisfaction at having said it. Then I was aghast at the thought of what I had just said. I thought about what my husband's reaction to this scene would be. I felt excited and humiliated by the thought.

Crack! The fire moved to my left breast. I gasped again. My pussy clenched and my knees buckled. I hung from my arms and tried to gather my senses. After a few breaths, I put weight back on the balls of my feet and stood before my master.

"Very nice. A balanced pair of breasts. You are quite pretty."

I exalted in his compliment. Then I felt his crop slide between my legs and move slowly up my left thigh. When it finally reached my dripping pussy, he stopped and held it still.

"Ask for it. Beg for me to touch your cunt." He said softly.

I tried to hunch my hips against the crop to get a little of that incredible friction. He just moved the crop with me, denying me my pleasure.

"Please, please sir. Please touch me. Touch me, sir." I moaned in frustration.

He reduced the pressure of the crop against my body. 

"Touch what?" he asked.

"Mister James, please touch my cunt with your crop."

"You are starting to learn, little slut."

Then, I felt it. He drew the crop out and pushed it back while keeping the leather in contact with my clit. I hunched my hips into the movement. I was on the verge of climax when he withdrew the crop. I whimpered.

"That's enough for now, little slut. It is time to give your shoulders a rest."

When he said that, I realized that my arms were starting to be uncomfortable. He knew before I did.

He released my arms from overhead, keeping them in the thick velvet loops. He lead me across the room and made me step up onto a short box. 

"There, that is just the right height. Back in the mid 1920's, the owner of this house was a banker who became obsessed with fitness. He bought any number of health tonics available then. He also outfitted this room with quite a lot of exercise equipment. You are standing in front of an eighty year old pommel horse. I have anticipated seeing you draped across this for some time now. You are going to come to love this old thing."

He bent me forward until I was draped across the smooth leather. My ass was pointed at the ceiling and my head and legs drooped to either side of the horse. I felt him secure my hands to something below me. Then he attached what felt like the same kind of velvet loops to my ankles and secured my legs as well. I couldn't move. Breathing was difficult. 

I heard him walk all the way around me. As he came around to my head, he bent down and whispered in my ear.

"Ask, little slut. Then you get your wish."

I had surrendered to this dark scene. I knew I could say "halt" and leave. I also somehow knew I could ask for him to fuck me, and that he would. But something deep inside, something that I could barely acknowledge to myself, wanted something else. I needed something else. Every step along the way that brought me to this position was driven by an unspoken, barely acknowledged need. The need was powerful, even if I tried to hide from it. It was time to let the need wash over me.

"Spank me, Mister James. Please spank me. Use your crop, use a paddle, use your hand. Please, spank me." I felt tears in my eyes as I begged.

"You know you could have asked for something else don't you?"

"Yes, sir. Please spank me Mister James. Spank my white ass. Please make it red, make it burn, make it match my titties."

I heard him move away. Then there was a stillness. I heard a whistle. Then my ass burst into pain. There was a rush of emotion that accompanied the burning pain. Slowly the immediate pain turned into a throbbing burn. Then there was another whistle, and the pain and emotional rush flowed throughout my body again. This was repeated four more times. I think I came on each of the last three. It was so different from a simple sexual orgasm. This was an emotional and physical feeling like nothing I had felt before. It left me sobbing.

I was only semi-aware of Mister James releasing my bonds and guiding me across the room. I heard a chair creak as he sat in it. I stood before him with tears in my eyes. I could feel the silk blindfold had absorbed the wet tears. After several minutes, I stopped crying. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.

"Reach down and forward with your hands," he commanded.

I complied. I felt his knee. It was raised as if he had his foot raised in front of him. This was the first time I had ever laid a hand on him. I tried to memorize everything about the moment. His linen slacks were smooth and had a crease. I could feel muscles in his leg. I felt a sexual thrill from just touching this man's knee.

"I want you to kneel and straddle my foot."

I slowly knelt. Running my hands down his leg. I felt his boot tops under his slacks. His foot was braced on a wooden box of some kind. When got on my knees, my pussy was resting just above the smooth surface of his boot.

"You may ask to touch my boot now." 

"Please Mister James. Allow me to touch your boot with my cunt." I asked breathlessly.

"You are learning, aren't you? Yes, you may touch my boot. But only as long as my cock is in your mouth."




Changes Ch. 02



She lay on the cot of her cell knowing that she would be there until he was caught, she watched the spider making its web in the corner to catch its victim. Just like the doctor, she thought to herself. She was becoming restless being here for a week when she remembered back to the first session when it all began. . .

Marcy walked into his office dressed in a lavender sun dress with just a pair of lavender thongs and white sneakers. He began the session by having her lie on the couch after drinking a glass of special juice to help her relax and she entered into a cloudy existence that felt so peaceful that she went into a black void, Carol opened her eyes as the doctor had inserted his cock into the young pussy of Marcy’s that seemed to be a subject of rape and now here was Carol who had been sleeping since Marcy’s father died four years ago under the doctor and he felt her body giving into him, his desire to fuck her was now a reality and her body was eating him up like a man eater and she gushed her juices all over his cock as he filled her pussy with cum and she has been out and living ever since.

She lay on her cot and could still smell his sexual scent he had about him, her hand ran under her blue jeans as she spread her legs as she needed to have sex, she was going crazy from being locked up for her own protection until they caught him. At least she had her own cell and was able to shower when the rest of the population was in bed. Her fingers slid around her wet pussy as she remembered how he made her hot, filled with lust and at the same time she hated him and everything he represented. She remembered those hours filled fuck sessions with him and how he held her tiny waist with his two hands guiding her up and down on his cock so slow.....so deep that she bit her bottom lip until blood trickled slowly down her chin and he would lap it up as he sucked the blood from her punctured lip. Her hips moved her pussy harder against her fingers until she tasted that familiar taste and pain from her biting her lip once again as her pussy gushed its thick sweet juicy liquids from her clit with each contraction that pushed her cum out onto her fingers. 

She knew it was haldol that he used to brain wash them along with him hypnotizing them with ideas and the shock treatments on top of it he created more personalities then just the original two, he created his own personal slaves. She succumbed to sleep with the sounds of the guards boots clicking on the high gloss polished floor outside of the cells. A tear trickled down her face for she had come to love all the personalties as her family and knew their deaths would follow once treatment began, even hers. Jaime the three year old emerged scared and lonely wanting her mommy to come rescue her from the dark cell with the sickening smell of the jail that filled her nostrils.

*Please mommy, please come get Jaime....I be good mommy.* she cried rolled up into a ball on the cot with the thin blanket pulled up over her and clutching the pillow like it was her teddy bear.* Don’t worry Sam I will hide you if that mean man comes in our room.* she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

He stood across from the jail planning how he would get inside to get her out of that cell, he wanted to fuck her once more before he slit her throat like a swine and tasted that sweet blood as it trickled from her neck. The thought made his cock begin to twitch as he thought of her in slow motion coming down slowly on his cock, hearing that soft moan of hers that excited him even more. In his own sick demented way he loved her and really hated that he would have to kill her to silence her forever. He saw the police officer coming towards him and when he was close enough the Doctor shot him full of haldol and then dragged him into the alley where he stripped his uniform and he himself put it on. 

Her eyes opened as she recognized those foot steps coming down the hall to her cell, her heart pounded with almost excitement and at the same time fear for she knew he was going to kill her. He stood at the door slowly placing the key into the lock and slowly turned the knob, he slowly pushed the door open and his eyes went immediately to her empty cot.

To Be Continued. . . 



Changes Ch. 02



Next he walked over to Keith. "You know, Keith, you're not a very big man, in fact your no taller than a lot of women. I've always been quite curious about why we have Hermaphrodites, and no other mixtures of three chromosomal types in the human race. Well, through my research I hope to correct that little problem. But I also need to see if we can convert a genetically X-Y male into a true, genetically correct X-Y-X Hermaphrodite clinically, and without invasive and only partially successful surgery. Your transformation will take a little longer than most of the others, but hopefully it will take place jut like all the test animals and the computer simulations suggest it will. Over the next six months, you should be seeing some very dramatic changes. Somewhere along the way we will probably need to change your name, to say Karen." And with that he gave a great big laugh as he rammed the needle into Keith's arm and injected him.

The third needle was for Allen. "Now Allen, you obviously take after your father size wise at least, and so your transformation will be a lot like his, only more so. I decided along the way, what if we could completely get rid of all the surgery needed to accomplish the sex reassignments that so many people want all over the world. What if, by the injection of just the right hormones, and other biologically altered enzymes, catalysts and "triggers" if you will, we could actually take a genetically true X-Y male and convert him into a truly genetically correct, undetectable X-X female, without the need for a single surgery. Imagine the potential profits that could make! Well, here's to the proof. Your treatment will involve probably 10 to 30 more injections, a little radiation, and a lot of time, but somewhere in the vicinity of a year or so, I think we will see an all new Allie, or maybe Allie-Mae!"

The fourth hypo was for Robert. "Well, Robert, here I'm dealing with a whole different blood line, but that really doesn't make any difference. I can already see that you are much more the man than either one of those other two little dicked wimps. Well, you are now well on your way to becoming the first ever real life Superman. If we can have the two sexed X-Y-X Hermaphrodites, then why can't we have the three chromosome X-Y-Y super enhanced males. Your injection should produce a much stronger, larger and more viral male body than normal. You are right now about 6'2" tall, and sport a better than average 7 ½ " cock. The treatment you will receive should produce about a 6-8" height growth, increased strength and about a doubling in both length and thickness of your male organ. You will be the best hung male around! We may have a little problem teaching women how to accommodate you, but I'm sure that can be handled. All in good time, all in good time."

Now, before we get to April and Amy, I am going to have to do a little additional "research" that I'm sure you might find "arousing". Amy, our records show that you are still a virgin. Oh how I do hope you still are! Are you? Well, no matter, we shall take a little of our time to make sure." 

As he was talking, our two rows of seats began moving back from one another, pulling apart about four feet wider than before. A device that was obviously a type of doctor's examination table, complete with the ever dreaded 'stirrups' was brought in and placed between the two rows of chairs. There were now four large male assistants in the room, all dressed in the white lab coats.

"Amy, let's start with you." With that two of the assistants removed her from her chair and bodily picked her up and laid her down on the exam table. Although she struggled wildly, it didn't take them any time at all to strap he down. The table had straps which went across her waist, secured each arm straight down each side of the table, and straps at each ankle, knee and across each thigh. As soon as she was secured, Dr. Campbell brought out a remote control, and her legs began spreading even wider apart. As soon as he had her spread as wide as he wanted, a stool was brought to him and he sat down between Amy's obscenely splayed legs. He reached into a drawer and brought out the most massive examination speculum I have ever seen. The lights in the room dimmed considerably, and as he placed the instrument at the entrance to her vagina, a picture flickered into being on the far wall, which was smooth white like the entire room. The examination speculum he was using was a lighted camera speculum that projected the interior of Amy's spread open vagina for everyone to see. There, in vivid color on that far wall was Amy's most private of all body part, her intact hymen.

"Ah...yes, just as I hoped! A good, fully intact hymen. Oh what a wonderful experiment this will be. Now, Amy, sorry to have to surprise you, but after all that is why we have you strapped sown so. This is going to hurt quite a bit, but it won't last long." I tried to scream as I saw him put the long hypodermic needle into her spread open vagina, and then as it's tip entered the tissue just at the side of her hymen, pushing in about a quarter inch. Dr. Campbell injected a rather large amount of fluid, then withdrew the needle, and then removed the speculum. Tears were rolling down the side of Amy's face, both I am sure from the pain and the utter embarrassment of being so outrageously displayed in front of both family and strangers.

"Amy, your injections, yes, there will be three more, will hopefully accomplish several things. First, every male out there dreams of being the one to first ram his cock into a virgin's pussy. Well, if everything goes as projected, you, my dear, will become the world's first ever Perpetual Virgin. Every time some dastardly male rams his hard cruel cock up into your sweet virgin pussy and rips your dearly prized hymen to shreds, well, S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E, it will grow right back, given about six to eight hours. The only problems we foresee is that the longer it goes between times you get it ripped open, the thicker and denser it tends to grow, making it harder and a lot more painful to have it ripped through the next time. The obvious solution, however, is that all you will need to do to avoid undue discomfort from intercourse, is to have your newly re-grown hymen plundered very frequently, say about once every eight to twelve hours. Hopefully, some of the additional compounds in the injections will also increase your desire to have sex, so you also should become a most insatiable nymphomaniac, like your mother is sure to become."



Changes Ch. 02



All kinds of questions about everything, starting from where I was raised, about my parents, what church they brought me to, what they fed me, my siblings, my school experiences and grades, questions about my friends there, girlfriends, when I lost my virginity, my first job, when I left home and why, etc..

  And I stood there answering them, too. I told the truth because I knew she was building a portrait of my personality and she'd know if I fudged on a few details here and there. People who do this kind of thing are generally well trained in psychology and I began to suspect more and more that she was. Lying really wasn't a safe option.

  Then she wanted to know about everywhere I'd been up to then, every province, city or town, why I settled there, what I did there, who I knew, girlfriends, vocations, when and why I left.

  Again, I honestly answered these and any questions of clarification she had until she finally had no more and at last allowed me to sit, my dick still hard as I allowed myself to look more and more often at her body when I had the chance, hating myself for it every time.

  After getting up to get herself another drink, she returned, sitting across from me again and regarding me seriously before speaking.

  "You see? What's so hard about just doing what you're told? You've done very well with that little interview and now I feel I know you a lot better. I know it embarrasses you to have to stand there naked in front of me, but it was for your own good. You see, men are so good at hiding behind their clothes. That's why the saying, 'The clothes don't make the man'. A woman probably came up with it, a pity you men don't take it more seriously. I suppose it's not really your fault, though, you've been left to run yourselves in this world for so long, it's not surprising you'd do this to yourselves, that you'd come to what most of you are. You're an especially sad case. Look at you, you're still as hard as ever, still so hot for me, even though you hate me. Yes, I know you do. Nevertheless, I accept you as my submissive. I'm even quite happy to have you, and before I satisfy myself with your cock, I'm going to lay things out for you."

  She shifted, getting a little more comfortable while my anxiety level climbed the walls for the ceiling.

  "It didn't have to be the hard way. You tried to fight me, you couldn't accept my domination of you, couldn't accept that you have nothing left to fight with. Your problem, pet, is that you're used to running from your problems. Yes, once all of the little preparations and barriers you erect between yourself and the circumstances that could spoil your selfish little world are battered down, you run. You had very little fight in you to begin with. It's true, isn't it? You can't even stay settled in the same city for three years without wanting to run from all those pesky little hazards and responsibilities that come with sooner or later coming to know people. Look at the string of failed relationships that you yourself sabotaged in the end because, deep down, you knew you'd sooner or later be gone rather than face up to some commitment, some problem. By your own doing, you're no more than a hunted animal. I see it in your eyes and I always did. You're a mess, boy. And you thought you could fight me? Exactly what did you think you had to fight with, your stupid pride?"

  She paused to laugh at this point while I bit back certain suggestions that, if voiced, would most likely get me beaten to a pulp or imprisoned. At least my erection was finally going away. The worst of it was that I again had no defense for this, again knowing that it was all true and that I'd been ignoring that ugly fact for the last ten years. However, that didn't mean I needed her to throw it in my face.

  "Do you know what you are to me?" she casually asked. "You're some scruffy, mangy, flea bitten little coyote that somebody mistook for a dog and abandoned at the animal shelter. I rescued you from the needle that someone would have surely given you at some point. But you should never forget that you played your own part in this as well. You placed your fate in my very hands the moment you came through my front door this evening. You had a choice to make and you chose me, it doesn't matter that you made that choice under duress, the fact is that you've willingly submitted yourself to me and you knew you would, knew it all the way over here and you knew it as you knocked on my door. Be honest with yourself about that, at least. Accept the fact that those moments out in that hall were the very last moments of existence for the man you knew as yourself."

  "And if you're honest with yourself, you'll see that you're better off. Yes, you are. You have nobody, boy. Nobody wants you and nobody gives a shit about you because you keep everyone at arm's length. You even tried to keep me at arm's length, the only friend you have in the world, the one person who does care about you enough to not let you run, even though you don't know well enough to appreciate me. Yet." 

  She rose from her seated position and looked down at me, still driving her demeaning points into my mind and slowly opening her blouse further, showing more of her bra. (DD-cup?) 

  "You are now my pet. You are my boy. You are my toy, my ragged little coyote and I am your life. From this time on, your purpose is to be whatever serves me. I own you, David, and you aren't running anywhere because your running days are over.

  Once again, she was more or less right in the things she said about me. I closed my eyes and looked into my lap while my erection came back yet again and my shoulders slouched. I somehow felt a little shorter then, a little smaller and a lot more helpless.

  "Yes, that's good." she approved. "You're beginning to accept your situation now and the more you do that, the better things will be for you."



 She paused, watching me as she stepped a little closer.

  "I know you're new to my lifestyle, that you don't understand and how much you hate me for this, but in time you'll come to feel different about it, about me. You'll even thank me. Oh yes, you'll worship the very ground that I walk on and there won't be a damned thing you wouldn't do for me, simply to please me. In time, you'll thank me for saving you from yourself and you will love me. Just the thought of life without me will be almost impossible for you to bear."

  The room was silent for a short time before I broke it to ask in a voice just above a whisper, "Why? Do you really hate me that much? As much as all this?"

  "Hate you?" she asked in surprise.

  Dagmar smiled, almost sympathetically and eased herself into my lap, taking my chin in her hand and making me look at her again.

  "Heavens no, pet. If I hated you I'd have just thrown you to the wolves right away. Oh no, I don't hate you at all, it's not like that. True, your rotten attitude at work has angered me many times and continued to bring you to my attention after the first time I saw you in the classroom, but that's one of the things that convinced me that you'd make such a nice pet for me, that you had such potential. Desperate strays always do make the best pets, you know. So appreciative after one wins their trust, you see. Oh, I was veeery patient, waiting for you to deliver yourself somehow, worrying that you'd run off down the highway again in that foolish looking penis extender you drive." she said, stroking my once again fully erect phallus with a light fingertip.

  I jumped at her touch and she leaned in to shove her breasts in my face with her evil smile.

  "In fact,... in ways you don't understand right now, I adore you. Once I'm through with you, you'll be my perfect subbie. Ah, Mistress Tonia will be soooo jealous after sticking that worthless little turdball she calls a submissive in my face for the last two years."

  "Um, Mistress?" I shakily asked with her tits in my face, her smiling down at me.

  "Mm hmm?"

  "You,... You could have just asked me if I'd like to go for a coffee with you or something. I would have."

  She broke out laughing at this while looking at me with an ever hungrier expression.

  "Would you like to have an orgasm this evening?" she asked, stroking my shaft expertly now as I went almost wild trying to control myself.

  "Omigod!" I replied, closing my eyes and trying not to enjoy her skilled touch.

  "Watch this, boy, and answer me, do you want to cum?"

  "A-aahh! Mistress! Oh-"

  "Beg me to fuck you!"

  "Uuuhhh!"

  "You know you want me, beg you little bastard!"

  "P-pleeease, Mistress, fuck me!"

  Dagmar pulled her panties aside, showing me her shaved, glistening wet pussy and moved forward, rising on her knees and pointing me at her ready opening.

  "Suck my nipples! Suck 'em, boy!"

  I hauled her cups down, spilling both of her big tits out and began sucking at one of her nipples, fondling her other breast and flicking my thumb across that nipple over and over as I suddenly felt the head of my cock at her lips. She then rammed herself down on me, crudely impaling herself and making both of us yell. She ground around in my lap, ordering me back to her nipples through clenched teeth, her beautiful red lips sneering in the pleasure one gets from finally scratching a deep itch.

  "Ohh, fuck! Oh my god!" I wailed between nipples.

  She was an animal, grunting and howling, squealing and yelping as she began to hammer herself as best as she could on the soft couch. I started thrusting up into the bitch as she came down, both of us now smashing each other's pelvis, although it was pretty clear who was fucking who.

  "Harder!" She ordered, grabbing the hair at the back of my head in her fist and forcing my face to her breasts as she fingered her clit. "Fffuck! Fuck, yeah! Fucktoy!"

  Incredibly, she came first, probably due to the fact that her position on top was a lot more comfortable, and because she really seemed to enjoy this form of violent sex. She hollered wordlessly at the ceiling, her voice breaking over and over until she only forcefully expelled a shout with every ragged breath, ending with a curious whine.

  She squirmed in my lap after it was over, my still hard cock inside her as I moaned desperately. Her chin and neck were resting on my shoulder as her hands loosely held to the back edge of the sectional. A moment later she got off me, still breathing heavily, closing her eyes and sighing when I slipped out of her. She stumbled backwards to her seat while I looked at her wide eyed.

  "You didn't tell me you wanted to cum, boy." she panted, opening her legs and sticking her hand down inside her soaked panties.



 "Huhhh! I groaned, in some kind of shock. The rollercoaster had just bottomed at high speed and I could feel the car racing for a gee pulling corkscrew.

  "Play with yourself, show me how you jerk off."

  "Uhh?" I asked, beginning to recover as she became stern.

  "I said, get yourself off. Stroke your cock and cum all over that nice chest hair for me. Now, boy."

  I looked at her hand down her panties and hesitantly took myself in hand, feeling degraded and humiliated by her once again, but strangely turned on all the more for it. I began stroking myself, watching her do the same.

  "Yeaaaaahhh,... Let me see you cum! Oh, yeah! Cum all over yourself, I wa- Ohhh-! I wanna see it running down your cock and all over your balls. Fuckin dirty little pervert!" she swore. "Oh! Ohhh!"

  It didn't take me long to get myself off and, when I did, it was a pretty big load considering all the times I'd been hard up until then. I gushed all over my belly and chest like she wanted and felt completely filthy and denigrated. It was a pretty screwed up moment as I willingly sat there with my legs spread so she could watch my warm seamen running over my fingers. I wanted the bitch to see it, watched her face and got off on some deep level, knowing I'd pleased her by humiliating myself. I hated her with a passion. I also wanted her with the same passion.

  I closed my legs and looked away as she removed her hand from the confines of the white lace between her beautiful, powerful legs.

  "Ohhh, my little pet! she breathed. "You're all I knew you'd be and so much more! I'm going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you! I'm going to use you in ways you can't yet possibly imagine and I'm going to always enjoy the poor little expression I just saw on your face, over and over again in so many different ways! Ah, yes, your whole life has changed tonight, I've turned it upside down for you and I've only just begun. Just wait till you see what your sex life will be. Heh heh heh heeeeh!"

  I covered my face with my clean hand and sat there, hearing her get up and come closer. She knocked my hand away, grabbed me by the sides of my head and forced an aggressive kiss on me, driving her tongue into my mouth. When she was finished, she roughly pushed my head away and straightened, her lipstick smeared on a smirking, satisfied, most beautiful mouth.

  "Get dressed. You may go out to the balcony for a cigarette, if you wish, but do make yourself another drink. If you don't need it now, you will soon. Chop-chop, boy, and use a glass this time!, she added over her shoulder, walking away and towards the hallway again with her skirt piled around her waist, tits bouncing free.

  Her ass was just perfect. How I loved her body!

  I cleaned myself up, with no small amount of shame, using the tattered remnants of my shirt that still littered the floor here and there before gladly getting myself dressed in the clothes I had left. I went and retrieved my cigarettes and lighter from my coat in the entry closet on wobbly legs and then returned to the front room for that drink, which she very correctly knew I needed. Strangely, she seemed to know quite a bit about me.

  Luckily, this being May in Toronto, it was plenty warm enough out there without a shirt, despite the fact that I was thirty stories up. The night breeze was warm and refreshing on my bare torso, even this sensation seemingly new and different somehow, another unique aspect of 'Dagmar World'. Gazing down at the city around me, trying to pull my head together with heavy pulls from my cigarette and glass, I suddenly wondered why in hell I'd ever come to Toronto in the first place. I never settled in large cities anymore and, of all large cities, I liked Toronto the least.

  I began thinking about the things she'd said as I watched the lights of an airliner fly by about a half mile out, comparatively low at my own altitude and headed for Pearson Airport. 

  All those people I'd left behind,...

  I looked back down and across the city lights, remembering Gary, a person I grew up with that lived two doors up in my subdivision and was my best friend for years. But people change and shit happens. He begged me to take him when I left my home town of Fredericton the last night I was there. 

  He was between sets at a local nightclub that he and his band were playing at and it was the first time I'd seen him in a while. I'd realized back a little ways that I was no longer of any use to him, or his ambitions, unless he needed to borrow a screwdriver, or needed help with his car, or some other self serving shit, so I wasn't particularly moved when he began relating to me what a bowl of dog snot his life was. Yeah, it was, even worse than mine, but I told him there was no room, knowing he'd only be a stumbling block, a dead weight that I could never afford to have. He swore he could travel light, but I just didn't want him along and, in the end, I was deaf to his pleas. I finished my whiskey-and-water and told him I was sorry, wishing him good luck before walking out.

  I remember how free I felt walking to the car that evening, looking up at the stars in the clear, midsummer night sky and even smiling. I hit the highway and never once looked back, but only went faster.

  Less than six months later, my mother telephoned me in Montreal to inform me that Gary had hung himself in a cheap motel room in Moncton where he and his band were playing the previous weekend. A few days after that, I received a letter from him in the mail, which I always saved but never opened. Weeks later, I moved to Calgary and mostly forgot about Gary and his letter as though I left them both stranded in Montreal.

  Strangely, standing out on Dagmar's balcony and looking at the life below, it seemed so impossible somehow that Gary wasn't down there somewhere, walking one of those brightly lit avenues to a nightclub, hand in hand with some bar scene chick and carrying his drumstick case, both of them smiling and happy.

  Somewhere down there had to be my family, too, who I ran away from as soon as I was old enough to run with a high school diploma and my first car, the now heavily modified Monza below me. I wondered if they even thought about me anymore, a little surprised to find I actually cared all of a sudden.

  The women I'd known in the last decade or so, all of them having moved on, assumedly having found better men than I, were all down there as well, in some form or another. They'd be building happy, secure lives, settled lives that would pave right over top of any history that included me, plowed under once and for all by the power of the mighty 'Mr. Right'.

  It seemed at that moment that I was never so alone in all my life, and never so acutely aware of the fact. I loosely pondered how it would be to fling myself over the railing in front of me. Would I find peace and freedom one last time during those fast seconds of seemingly weightless freefall? A lump formed in my throat and I suddenly found myself fighting back tears until my mouth twisted into a bitter sneer cast down at the populace. At all those who weren't there and never had any responsibility for me or what I'd become without my even noticing. It wasn't their fault, but in that moment I hated them all just the same.

  "Fuck you." I mumbled acidicly. I took a drink and another drag, slowly exhaling and looking vehemently below me, adding in a slighter louder voice, "Fuck every god damned one of you!"

  I flicked the cigarette butt over the railing, watching its descent until it went down too far to see the bright red cherry at the end. I had much bigger fish to fry at that point, anyway. I turned to go back inside and found Dagmar standing in the doorway, silently watching me with a look of open curiosity on her features. I froze, fixing her with a look of the hunted animal she'd accused me of being just earlier. 

  She'd changed into a long, navy blue cable knit sweater and skin tight black leggings. She was absolutely stunning. Just magnificent. I wondered if I wouldn't have been better off if she just happened to be some skinny, titless wonder who-

  "Everything alright, boy?"

  "Yes."

  " ... Come in and sit, now."

  Having just gotten off, it was a bit easier for me to keep my mind off her body and on what was happening as I sat across from her once again, wondering if she was wearing panties. (Fuck!)

  I was soon also wondering what this crazy lady had done to my noodle, when she began to speak in an authoritative, businesslike tone.

  "You will not bring your binder to work Tomorrow. You will not park in the staff parking lot, but by the curb at the front of the building. You will use the front entrance and will not go to a cubicle, or even remove your jacket. Your priority will be to find Sally and tender your immediate, verbal resignation. You will disregard her, or anyone else's attempts to change your mind, you will sign the release forms, return to your car and leave. You will then drive directly here-", she instructed, passing me another stickit paper with another address and time, "-where you will state your name upon arrival and where you will do as you are told. Once this business is concluded, you may have a little time to yourself."




Changes Ch. 02



I nodded, totally resenting her with a tight lipped smile and carefully imparted, "Uh, I have this pesky little thing called a rental agreement that I kinda do have to be gainfully employed in order to-"

  "That's no longer your concern, boy, and watch that tone. You've been doing well, don't ruin it now."

  She became the school principal then, back straight, legs crossed and looking so sharp, regarding me as though I were a suspicious, possibly unruly student who'd been sent to her office.

  "I feel we have some understanding here, boy. I feel that you now have begun to accept where you stand. Therefore, I would be reasonably upset if, the next time I speak to you, I have to put up with what arrived here tonight. Quite reasonably upset."

  "Yes.", I agreed, hearing the defeat in my voice; it sickened and frightened me.

  "Tell me you'll make an effort next time, boy."

  "I'll make an effort next time." I dejectedly toned. 

  "For now, it's all I ask and all you're capable of anyway. You were told to be clean and wearing clean and decent clothes. You were also to be on time, respectful and obedient. Let's see,... You were clean, you were dressed in clean clothes, but they're little more than rags and quite unbefitting of my status. You managed to be punctual."

  She paused here, raising an eyebrow for effect before stating,  "As I've said, you were lucky enough to enjoy a short grace period tonight, a sort of orientation to what you can expect. I've given you that because, as I've also said, you don't understand yet. You're about as vanilla as they come, and I do love that, but know that your orientation period is over."

  I nodded, wondering what she meant by 'vanilla'.

  "Good boy." she said with a rewarding smile. "Now, be off with you, and remember my instructions for tomorrow, carry them out to the letter, and I'll be in touch soon.", she said, standing.

  "I will." I said morosely, joining her on my feet. 

  She accompanied me to the entry where I grabbed my jacket out of the closet and put it on, followed by my boots. I turned and headed for the door, somehow not sprinting the few steps, and managing to hold my head high.

  "Boy."

  I turned slowly, facing Dagmar and waiting for her to say some awful and further life wrecking thing.

  "Aren't you going to say good bye to your Mistress?" she asked, neither insulted or angry, merely the Principal.

  "Goodbye, Mistress."

  She held me there in her dimensional entry for a few moments, studying me, suddenly looking at my bare chest under my unbuttoned jacket. She stepped closer and grabbed a nipple, grinning and squeezing painfully until I winced.

  "Mmmmm. My whore.", she said with a quality to her voice I'd never heard from any other woman anywhere. "You'd better get out while you can, pet. And make sure you're properly fed and rested for me, huh?"

  I really needed no encouragement. I left her door in a sort of stupor, noticing the rush of pleasure at my nipple after she let it go and as I walked down the hallway with her low giggle following me, my head anything but held high. I could feel her eyes on my back and held a vague fear of looking over my shoulder.

                       ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

  Blissfully, I remembered nothing the next morning. Not until I made it to the kitchen counter, reaching above the sink and into the doorless cupboard where I kept the Tylenol. I quickly ran some tepid water from the tap into yesterday's dirty coffee mug and downed three caplets before remembering it all in an unexpected moment between two painful head throbs of my hangover. 

  I dropped the mug into the empty sink, hearing it break but not caring as I supported myself at the edge of the counter, eyes closed, trying to quell the sudden anxiety that made the two guys in my head hammer all the harder and faster.

  After a long, hot shower, my hangover was mostly gone, leaving me at my kitchen table, force feeding myself some potatoes and drinking a coffee (clean mug) with the feeling of having been hit by a bus. Or perhaps a Mustang,...

  It was quite early and I had some hours to kill before I ended my employment at the call centre, so I wandered out to the garage, trying to keep my mind off things, to pretend I was still a man and that everything was normal. 

  Once inside, my attention was grabbed by the car almost right away. Strangely, like the night before, I had to keep reminding myself that this was not the pedestrian destroyer, only the one that was set up to take the rap. It seemed so easy to forget that for some reason. I sipped at my second coffee, standing there staring at it in the shady, unlit bay in my slippers, ratty old dark green bathrobe hanging open and a fresh pair of black briefs. Then it hit me, almost causing me to drop that mug too.

  How long would it take before the cops started interviewing people at the call center where Kelly worked? They may have already been to see the dayshift, possibly the nightshift as well after I left the evening before. Would anybody mention the show-off with the loud, bright orange Monza? They'd probably want to ask everyone there if they ever saw other employees driving dangerously,... 

  "Oh, shit!", I hissed in dismay, imagining them working their way to Sally to find out where I was, her telling them how I'd left,... And now I had to go and quit, which really wouldn't look good.

  And, oh my god, I pressure washed the car at a public Canwash where they often had security cameras installed! (!!!!)

  "Fuck me!" I swore, tossing the mug, along with its steaming contents into the varsol bath with a crash and making a beeline for the door. I never even closed it behind me, just bolted at a dead run for my back door, tearing inside and whipping off my robe on my frantic way to the bedroom.

  Less than five minutes later, I was outside again, dressed and with my car keys, soon finding myself back at the Canwash, greatly relieved to find that the smaller, rinky-dink operation obviously couldn't afford security cams.

  I was still smiling, sitting in a place called Giggles, one of those dark, dingy little shopping mall bars that seemed to attract mostly old alcoholics, washed up truck drivers and VLT addicts. I sat there watching the news, as I always did when I went there, and as always, only my eyes were on the screen, not my mind. I was telling myself over a beer that there was nothing I could do if the cops came looking for me from work, wondering if there wasn't something else I may have missed and trying to convince myself that I was just being paranoid.

  Of course, I also thought of Dagmar.

  The main problem was that she had me over a barrel and we both knew it. There was no doubt that I pretty much had to play her game by her rules, that was for sure. At least for now. It was just possible (always possible!) that I could yet squirm out from under her thumb at some point in the future, hopefully the near future and, with each sip of my beer, I became more and more convinced that if anybody could give the vampire the slip, it was me. I just had to be patient, batten down the hatches and somehow ride out this storm while keeping my eyes and ears wide open for anything useful, or any opportunity that presented itself. Sooner or later.

  Of course, in the meantime, I had to contend with her, didn't I? That meant that my immediate concern was actually getting those hatches battened, but was that even possible with her? Would I end up being my own Edmond Fitzgerald, going to the bottom of Lake Superior by the overwhelming Alejandro Gale before I could ever find a way-

  "In local news, police still haven't found the hit and run driver that took the life of Kelly Preston two nights ago in front of her place of employment, an Etobicoke area call center."

  The screen cut to a somewhat attractive, uniformed Policewoman, her name stated at the bottom of the screen as being, 'Const. Amy Gordon'.

  "We do know that shortly after one O'clock AM, Ms. Preston was using the crosswalk in front of her place of employment and was struck. The driver did flee the scene of the accident. Unfortunately, there were no witnesses at the time and Ms. Preston was found by a passing motorist who called 911, however, she was dead at the scene. We do have some solid leads that we're investigating, but we're asking the public to contact police if anybody saw anything at all and Crime Stoppers is offering a reward for any information that leads to an arrest and conviction on this case."

  The attractive blonde Constable went on to say more, but apparently the Anchor felt it was unimportant, choosing instead to briefly go over who Kelly Preston was, showing friends of hers crying and placing flowers at the curb outside the call center. He finished the piece by informing the public at large that there would be a candle light vigil held that evening.

  No witnesses? Solid leads? No sir, I didn't like it. My smile was gone by the time I walked back out into the sun, feeling like a cockroach caught in the light.

                        ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

  I was never enamored with my job, despite my success there, so it wasn't a major problem to quit, especially since I no longer had any choice in the matter. There just seemed very little point in worrying about that, of all things, in light of everything else, anyway.

  Sally did try to talk me out of it, looking at me a bit strangely all the while, as if I'd grown another eye or something but, as I said, I had no choice in the matter and, while she didn't know it, she was talking to the wrong person in that respect. I didn't see the person Sally would have had to plead with while I was there. Dagmar's office door was closed the entire time I sat in the center pod, (aka: 'The God Pod) signing all the appropriate forms, their sort of 'job un-application process', if you will. Sally and a few others from management, who never bothered with me before, positively wished me good luck (I figured I'd need that) and all the rest of it. I left and got into my car, leaving and thinking little of it, trying to ignore the flowers and little stuffed animals across the front lawn and at the curb as I pulled out into traffic.

                       ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

  I had about ten minutes to spare when I parked just down from the address Dagmar had scrawled for me. I smoked a cigarette with the window open, looking at the building which shared the address on the stickit memo. It was a three storey, brick block fronting the sidewalk under the hot, noon sun. There was a business with a plate glass front window at street level, a hanging sign that jutted out from the wall proclaiming it to be, 'Queeny's Tats n Piercings'. Less than upbeat about this, I finished my smoke, got out to pay the meter and went inside.



 A thin woman who looked about my age, late twenty something, looked up from behind her counter. Her hair was buzzed and bleached and she had tattoos up the wazoos, wearing thick, black eyeliner against her pale complexion, making her look somewhat akin to a raccoon just back from the dead. Piercings adorned her face and she'd dressed herself in tight, black leather pants and vest.

  I noticed how ill at ease she seemed right away and, when I presented myself by name as Dagmar told me to do, this became more pronounced.

  "This way." she said to me in a clipped tone.

  I followed her, passing another woman whose back was toward us while she worked on a large eagle that covered the chest and shoulder of a big guy who looked at me as if everything wrong in his life was my fault as I passed.

  We proceeded to a side room where, once seated, she gestured to what looked a little like a dentist's chair, telling me to sit down on it.

  "Why, what's goin' on?" I asked.

  "Just sit down!" she snapped.

  "Great, another crazy lady." I mumbled, sitting.

  "Undo your pants, tuck the right side down and in, and pull your shirt up."

  Again, I did as I was told. She came over and took some time to prep an area just under the waistband of my faded blue denims before going back to her small work counter and returning with a strange contraption that she promptly used to stick me with.

  "Ahh, ff-! What're ya doin!?" I demanded , jumping at the pain.

  An alarmed expression came across her face, which very quickly turned to anger.

  "Fuckin hick!" she yelled at me. "If you make me fuck this up, don't think I'm facing her alone! Got it!?"

  "Well, why didn't you warn me, stupid zombie bitch, I asked ya what was fuckin' goin on, didn't I!?" I yelled back. 

  She shot up and got right in my face, gesturing violently with her contraption. "I'm giving you a tattoo, bright boy! And if you weren't her slave, I'd gouge your fuckin' eye out for talking to me like that! So just sit there and shut up, or I'll call her and tell her you're being a pain in the ass! Ya get it now, hick!?"

  "Well, be fuckin' careful, stupid!"

  "You f-! Fuuuuuck youuuuuu!" she screamed in my face. 

  Obviously, she wasn't used to being treated the way she treated others. There was a knock at the door. The other tattooist, presumably, asked if everything was alright in an unsure voice.

  "Yes!" the re-animated raccoon spat before addressing me again. "Just sit there and don't move, and yes, it's gonna hurt, so suck it up, because if you ruin this, we're both gonna get it!" Understand, hick!? Just don't fuckin' move!"

  She didn't wait for a reply and I only rolled my eyes and shook my head disgustedly anyway, not overlooking the anxiety that fueled her anger before she went back to work. I thought about that and whether or not she was making it hurt like that on purpose as she went about her business, looking down at the top of her head from my reclined position. 

  Did Dagmar have something on the undead, tattooed critter as well? Was that why she was so afraid? Again, I wondered how my new Mistress could afford to live where she did on a Floor Manager's salary and just exactly who Dagmar Alejandro was. I also wondered that she obviously hadn't called the accident at the crosswalk in to 911 that evening. Apparently, she only soaked a cloth and left. 

  It gave me an idea before all I could think about was how much it hurt getting a tattoo.

  When she finally finished the torture of the trillion needles, the zombie slapped cellophane with some stuff on it over her work and repeated some directions to avoid smudging and discoloration a few times, handing me a printed leaflet entitled, 'So, you got a tattoo'. I was starting to think she'd make me promise on my life that I'd do exactly what she said, but her fear of Dagmar was really enough motivation for me.

  Once she was sure I understood everything perfectly, she walked to the front door, opened and held it.

  "Get out."

  I hesitated, not quite believing how freaked out my mere presence made her.

"Get - out!" she repeated, more insistent now. "Just fuck off!"

  The big guy, who was slowly having himself turned into a wildlife exhibit, spoke up then.

  "Queeny, you want me to take him around back and smarten him up a-?"

  "No!" she blurted, even more alarmed now, pushing her palm out at him from where she stood in a 'stop' gesture. "Don't lay a hand on him if you don't want all our lives fucked up for good, believe me, don't touch him! I said get out, hick!"

  I threw up my hands, letting them fall again in a sincere gesture of giving up, looking around at the oaf and then back to Queeny before just walking out like she insisted, shaking my head in wonder as I passed.

  Back in the car, I peeled the waistband of my jeans down again to see what was causing the raw, road rash pain on my left, lower belly. It was a black rose with red edging, the colours and light effects creating Dagmar's initials in the shape and flow of the petals, the same as on her memo stickits. She'd had me marked as her own. The first tattoo I'd ever had and it was feminine!

  "Shit!" I breathed, looking at it critically with a frown.

  I covered it again, lit a cigarette and sat there for a minute, watching traffic go by before starting the car and pulling out. As I did, I noticed the zombie raccoon, peering out her front window, watching me and biting anxiously on her thumbnail.

  At a payphone outside a Pizza Pizza franchise on the way home, I waited nervously for the other end to pick up with the Monza choppily idling right outside, drivers door left open. 

  "Toronto Police Department."

  "Yeah, I have information about what happened to Kelly Preston, listen cl-"

  "One moment while I transfer you, sir."

  "No, I don't need- Hello? Shit!"

  After a moment, "Constable Gordon."

  "Yeah, I got information about what happened to Kelly Preston."

  "Okay, go ahead, Sir."

  "It happened right about five after one AM. It was a red Mustang, 79-93 model, T-top."

  " ... License plate number?"

  "Never got it. He sped right up the street, around that blind, uphill curve and went right through her. Brake lights never flashed once and he stayed right on the gas till he was gone, I saw the whole thing."

  " ... Why didn't you-"

  I hung up the phone. Pushing my way through the swinging, plexiglass doors of the booth, I grinned as I hopped behind the wheel, slamming the door and getting under way, back to my peaceful little home on the lonely, rural road where people left me alone. 

  Wasn't I clever?

                         ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

  A sudden knock on my front door startled me out of one of those really nice, early evening naps, the kind one has after one comes down from two or three beer after a drunk the night before.

  I got off the couch, walking into the kitchen and checking out the window that the late sun was raying through. 

  (Cops! Ho-ly she-it!)

  I jerked myself away from the window as they knocked again. With the car in the backyard, it wouldn't do any good to pretend I wasn't at home, so I bucked up. Just another sale, right? 

  I went to the door and opened it. It was Constable Gordon herself, accompanied by another female officer, this one a brunette, shorter than her blonde partner, who was not a lot shorter than I was.

  "Uh- Can I he-"

  They shoved their way in. Gordon grabbed me right by the throat with one hand, my balls by the other and pushed me backwards, the brunette entering behind her and closing my door.

  "Hey, what the hell!?" I stammered in a voice a lot higher than the one I remembered being mine.

  The brunette laughed as I was forced to the floor on my front, a boot suddenly holding me down at the back of my neck as handcuffs were clasped around my swiftly captured wrists.

  "Hey, get the fuck offa me!" I protested. "I didn't do nothin', what the hell are you-?

  "Shut up, Legassy!" Gordon ordered as the brunette grabbed me by the hair and held my face up, leering strangely at me. I took note of her nametag, which identified her as Constable Raitt, before she spoke.

  "I'll bet you thought that was pretty clever, huh?" she asked. "Unfortunately for you, we really don't tape calls to Crime Stoppers, just like we say on TV and, also unfortunately, your call was determined to be a crank."

  "What!?" I asked, not believing what I was hearing, or the implications.

  Gordon slapped the back of my head hard and repeated her wish for me to shut up, allowing Raitt to continue.

  "Ever been fucked up the ass, Legassy? No?" she asked addressing the sudden look of horror on my face, correctly assuming my answer by it as I watched her remove the police baton from her equipment belt. "Well, since you seem to want to go to jail, maybe we should do you a little favour and get you oriented. Eh?"




Changes Ch. 02



Gordon began yanking the loose gym shorts I wore on account of the fresh tattoo down to my knees as I started hollering.

"Nooo! Don't do that, please, I'll never call again, I promise!"

  "I love this fuckin job." Raitt giggled as my legs were roughly spread.

"I promise I won't do it again, I swear to god I won't, just please, please don't do that to meee!!"

  Gordon only laughed as I felt the end of what was probably her baton pressing at my anus.

"Noooooo!! Nooooooo!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

  I screamed bloody murder, struggling and squirming, uselessly trying to remove myself from the end of the baton as it pressed harder and harder, beginning to hurt now.

  "You think he's got religion?" Gordon snickered. "Sure sounds like he got something."

  " ...  I don't know", Raitt replied, smiling into my face as the baton was pressed even harder. "I think I want to see him fuck my baton anyway, whether he does or doesn't."

  I went on screaming, even harder and louder until Raitt's baton was in my mouth. Here's something else you might have to get used to, sport." she teased, sliding it in and out around my ever more panicked yells.

  "Let's have him get us off instead. We got time." Gordon suggested.

  "Here, do his ankles, I'm first." Raitt agreed, tossing her cuffs and removing the baton from my mouth.

  I stopped screaming as the baton at my ass was mercifully taken away, Gordon now busying herself with cuffing my ankles while Raitt shed her equipment belt and pants, showing black nylon, low cut panties which were also removed.

  "Okay, Officers, seriously!" I tried to assure them. "I really got the point, I totally understand so well I can't even fuckin' believe it myself and I'm so sorry!"

  Raitt had gotten down on the floor, legs spread in front of my face, grabbing me by the hair again and moving her shaved pussy closer. 

  "Nooo, you can't-!" I protested desperately. "I have rights!"

  They both laughed again as she shoved herself into my mouth, taking the back of my head and smearing my face around her sex.

  "Come on, boy, make it good, lick my fuckin' cunt and get me off!"

  "Yeah, Mr. Legassy, it's the least you can do to support your local police." Gordon added, tapping my bare ass with her baton now that she'd cuffed my ankles.

  "We should turn him over so you can fuck him while you wait. I'll sit on hi-! Ahh! sit on his face. Fuck, he knows how to suck pussy, anyway! Woo hoo! Ahhhh, fuck!"

  Alright, as much as I didn't want to be abused like this, being forced to go down on this not unattractive woman was having its effect and, truth be told, I was just glad they weren't bungholing me with their damned batons.

  "Ooooh, he's hard!" Gordon remarked once they'd flipped me over, her pants and underwear also removed. 

  She grabbed my cock and pumped it with her hand as Raitt climbed on my now upturned face. I groaned as I licked her lips, knowing that a part of me couldn't help but enjoy this, despite the humiliation and fear they caused me, despite having no guarantees concerning those batons. I groaned louder when Gordon sat on my cock.

  "Uuhhhhh!" she almost growled at my forced entry, moving around on my pelvis and grunting softly while I sucked Raitt's unusually large and sensitive clit, making her howl. 

  The sooner she came, the sooner I could get the other one off, and the sooner the pigs would just leave. That said, if I had my hands free, I wouldn't have been using them to attempt escape. Oh, no. It shamed me, those feelings. How could I be so angry and humiliated and so turned on at the same time? What in hell was wrong with me? My only saving grace was that I had no choice, in anything, it seemed.

  Soon, I was quite relieved my hands were cuffed underneath me. I was able to use them to shield my tailbone from the hard floor as Gordon freely pile drove me over and over with all her weight, sounding like a huffing bear each time she landed, driving me closer to my own orgasm as I lay helpless underneath my rapists.

  "Oh, god! Oh, fuck! Yeah, lick my cunt, boy! Lick! My! Fu-! Oh! Ohhhh! Ahhh-AHHHHHHHH, FUUUUUCCK, YYEEAAAAAHHH!! OHHHHHHH, GODDDD!!??"

  Raitt squirted a small amount of her orgasmic juices straight into my face, causing me to cry out in surprise and alarm, but I just kept licking until she stopped me.

  "Oh my god, that was good! Wow, wait till she finds out about that!"

  "My turn." Gordon husked, getting off of me moments before I'd have orgasmed myself, making me debate whether I regretted it or not.

  "The little slut loves it.", Raitt breathlessly chuckled, trading places with her blonde partner. "Don't you, slut? Don't you love it?"

  She slapped my face a few times until I told her I did, not entirely lying about that. Then she was bouncing up and down on my cock, breathlessly laughing and smacking my outer thigh painfully with her baton, woo-hooing and yee-hawing like a cowgirl. Gordon climbed on my face and ground herself into me.

  Lick me like you did her, Legassy. Lick my ass up nice and good too! Mmmm, yeah, suck that lip, oh, fuck!"

  Constable Gordon had very nice legs and I flicked my tongue a lot further around her, not just because that's the way she wanted it, but because I wanted to. I rapidly slashed from side to side with my tongue, across her lips and worked my way to her clit in this fashion, even sucking the smooth shaved area just above.

  "Woo hoo! Riiiide em, Cowbooooy!" Raitt yelled. "This part of him's fun too!"

  I had to tighten my thigh against the ever more painful baton strikes until she finally stopped and started rubbing her clitoris with that hand instead, getting more into the feel of my shaft bottoming inside her every time she dropped herself.

  Gordon had her tits out, pulling on her nipples as she moaned, still grinding into my face, rubbing her clit against my mouth, back and forth while I now sucked and licked just below it.

  "Suck my ass, boy! Fuckin lick my ass! Yeah! Yeah! Oh, yeah! Oh, fuck, he is-! Ohhh, god, yeaaah!" Gordon whined.

  Having been taken so close and then let to simmer down, I seemed to be taking my good old time getting close to orgasm again and, by then, I definitely wanted to orgasm. I had completely abandoned myself to my abusers, licking Gordon's ass and enjoying the effect it had on her. It was almost like a funny form of control over her, but I was under no illusion as to who had the control at that time.

  When Gordon came she collapsed on me, almost smothering me as she hung on to Raitt, who was again getting close herself, now. I licked and cleaned her lips, her opening and clitoris clean, suddenly feeling myself approach what I knew would be one hell of an orgasm of my own.

  But not before Raitt. She bucked and howled when she came again, now being supported by Gordon in turn.

  I was groaning loud, urgently because I was right there when she got off of me. The movement itself and my hardened, super sensitive organ slapping against my belly, took me to within a thought of Cumming, but I didn't. It was the final piece of their assault, that they left me like that, rolling me over and removing their handcuffs after they got dressed, laughing at me and calling me names afterward. 

  Raitt batted my toaster oven to the floor with a crash as they walked out of the kitchen and I turned my face away and closed my eyes, fighting back tears of relief that they were leaving, ashamed at what had happened, listening to them walking across the floor to the front door as they put down my old rented trailer and it's admittedly humble furnishings.

  Just before I heard the door slam shut, one of them, Gordon I think, offered, "Nice job on the Monza, by the way."

  I heard them laughing through the thin walls as they went down my front steps and back to Hell where they came from.



Changes Ch. 02



Notes to Reader:

(1) A lot of this is fiction; much is fact.

(2) Cross dressing in marriage is a difficult situation; acceptance of it comprises three entities: husband, wife, couple.

(3) Nobody CHOOSES to be a cross dresser, so please don't demean yourself (the reader) by macho dismissal and criticism. Lawyers, plumbers, truckers: anyone can be one. Most you will never see.

*****

And so my real story begins, the trips to the psychologist for counseling, and suggestions as to how to cope as a couple. I realize now that it was not just my story, but Sarah's too. I couldn't read her mind; it was only her actions and expressions that I could see, and I interpreted them as an intense interest in the study of me and my fetish. But I am not writing her story; I am writing mine. I can only speculate as to her motivations. Suffice to say, I should have been studying her while she was studying me.

I was a bystander during the following exchange. We should have discussed it in detail afterward at home, but we didn't. Actions multiplied, but conversation, not so much.

Psychologist: "Sarah, can you live with Steve dressing up at home when he feels like it?"

Sarah: "I find it weird. I don't know what I think."

Psychologist: "Well, how does it make you feel? How did you feel when you saw Steve dressed as a woman that first time?"

Sarah: "Correction: the only time. My emotions ran amuck, I would say. It scared me, not because of how he was dressed, but how it made me..."

Sarah paused, stared out the window, and then gazed at her hands in her lap.

Psychologist: "Yes, go on."

Sarah: "I didn't want change. It triggered something. It was (I can't believe I'm saying this) sexy in a bizarre way. I didn't want it to be sexy. That defined me as weird too. No, on the surface I just wanted him to stop."

Psychologist: "He can't stop. I treat cross dressers all the time. Many clinical methods have been tried and all have failed. Ever see the movie "A Clockwork Orange"? You should. It's not about cross dressers, but the analogy is there. If cross dressing is removed from Steve's life, Steve will not be Steve any longer. Watch the movie. Look, that's enough for today. Here's some literature on crossdressing, the suspected causes, the associated fantasies, why he can't stop. If you want to save your marriage, you have to at least understand the cross dressing."

During a week of reading, Sarah also began researching the topic on the Internet. She became a voracious learner, soaking everything up. 

Several weeks passed. The psychologist was making money, and we felt like confusion had taken over our lives. It seemed like we had taken a step up the stairs but were stuck there. I wanted acceptance; Sarah was afraid of it. We appeared to be stalemated. I continued to dress up when Sarah went to work. The guilt began to slowly rise up and overwhelm me. Coming home at the end of one of those days, the silence in bed afterward was deafening. I was cheating. Sarah knew it. Neither of us liked it. And the more the stress built up, the more I dressed up, a gluttonous and vicious circle of deceit and self-loathing.

The anxiety in our relationship was palpable, a living breathing thing, permeating every nuance of our being, thickening the air we breathed until we both felt like we were choking. Something had to change. And one night in February, it did. Everything changed.

"Steve, we need to talk," she said abruptly. It was Friday night, and we were sharing a bottle of oaky Chardonnay with some penne.

The tone sounded ominous, so I made a feeble attempt to step out of the way. "We are talking," I said.

"No. No we're not. We're saying things, but they're not important things. Look behind the table; look beside the sofa; look in the bedroom."

"What are you talking about?" I said, bewildered.

"The elephant. We have to acknowledge it exists. We have to talk about it."

I sighed. "The cross dressing."

Sarah began with authority. "I've done a lot of research, and based on your choice of ladies underwear and the way you expect me to be the house maker, I think you have a 1950s view of femininity and what you perceive as womanhood. I'm going to use that and move on. By the way, the psychologist was right; we have to make this work or we'll lose each other. I can't take this anymore, the way it is now." Sarah took a deep breath and said, "I have a proposition for you."

I remember stifling my arousal and excitement as I thought she was going to say she would try to grow with me on the cross dressing fetish. "A proposition?" I asked.

"Yes. I've thought about this an awful lot and here's what I propose. You see, if I let you cross dress any time you like, I have to get something in return, don't you think?" She smiled a strange smile.

My heart skipped a beat. "I guess so. Like what?"

"I've already seen you dressed up, so it's not a total shock to me anymore. In fact the image of it is burned in my brain. So, here it is, if you want to dress up, then you have to do the following things." She handed me an envelope.

I was completely perplexed as I tore it open. There was a list after an opening statement. It went like this:

If you need to dress up, you can, but only if you agree to the following:

You do all the housework, wash all the clothes, iron them, prepare supper, and do the dishes, all while dressed as a woman. We'll see how you like that.

In return I will pick out your makeup and clothing until you can do it yourself, and teach you how to use it all properly. If you want, you can be dressed as a woman from morning to night.

I put the list down and said, "Oh my God. Are you serious?"

"Don't get too frigging excited," she laughed, "This is a tough step for me, believe me! I will not have a man in drag serving me supper. You're going to have to play the part, be the part. I know you dress up every day when I go to work anyway and I hate the deception. You peel it all off and are Steve again by the time I walk back in the door. Now that's going to change. Stay dressed; be Stephanie; you can make supper. And we'll see where this goes."

I remember staring at her in disbelief. I had been certain that our marriage was falling apart, that it was inevitable, and now I...we were thrown this lifesaver. I hugged her and kissed her until I began to feel foolish, like I had been granted life at the base of the gallows.

Sarah's demeanor had changed however. It was clear that she was not going to allow a slippery slope to develop, where I took advantage of her generosity. She was going to be in control.

"I take it you accept my terms?" she asked, smiling, "Then I'll go shopping for you tomorrow. We're about the same size, so it should be easy...except for shoes and corsets, stuff like that. We'll revisit that later. I'll get your basic wardrobe up and ready for you. You can start on Monday."

I laughed then and said, "Start? Ha...sounds like I've just been interviewed for a maid's job and I start work on Monday."

She snickered and said, "Yes, I suppose so. Who knows where this will go, eh? Actually, you just gave me an idea."

I clinked my glass to hers and said, "An idea? What about?"

She clinked my glass back and smiled conspiratorially. "You'll see," she said, "You will see many things."

I couldn't believe my ears and eyes. My wife...my WIFE Sarah, was not only condoning my cross dressing, but she seemed to be encouraging it. All I had to do was take over all the household chores, and try harder to look more like a woman. And corsets? What the hell had happened to her? 

We opened another bottle of wine and celebrated a huge breakthrough. It was like a date with a new and wonderful person, and we talked and talked forever. We slurred words and told dirty jokes, a deluge of pent-up stresses pouring out of us as the wine was pouring in.

By midnight we had almost flared out. No amount of wine or coffee was going to change our condition and we went to bed expecting nothing but hugs; we were so drunk. As we undressed and crawled under the sheets I do remember Sarah saying the most bizarre things though.

She said, "The research I've been doing...is it true?" Then she burped.

"Is what true?" I asked, stifling a burp myself.

"Do you like bondage and humiliation, and being dominated by a woman? A lot of you people do, and how they explain it, it makes a lot of sense." There was a long silence and then she added, "So, do you?"

Up until then, I hadn't really thought about it much; yes, there were flickers of those fantasies, but mostly I just wanted to dress in girdles and bras and such. I said, "I don't know. Maybe. Why?"

But she had fallen asleep. Looking back, I should have pressed her for an answer.



Changes Ch. 02



My hands raced forward to his crotch to find his exposed penis. It felt wonderful in my hands. It was hard. I could feel his pulse in it. As I leaned forward to put it in my mouth, I remembered.

"Please Mister James. May I please suck your beautiful cock?"

His response was a chuckle. Then I felt him guide my head down until the head of his cock was in my throat.

I spent the next measureless time period in heaven. I felt my breasts touching him. They were still hot from the cropping. My ass burned from his spanking. I ground my cunt into his boot, feeling it massage my cunt. I worshiped his cock with my mouth. I did everything I could to bring him pleasure. Finally, I felt that tightening in his balls that warned me. He groaned quietly and came in my mouth. I had a shuddering orgasm that was triggered by his. I continued to suck and lick his softening dick until he finally lifted my head off of him. 

He stood me up. Then I heard him stand. I wanted his touch, harsh or soft. My body cried for his touch. He moved away from me. As his footsteps receded, he spoke over his shoulder.

"You don't need much more discipline, I think. Next visit, we will see how much of a total sexual slut you can be. We will have to really stretch your boundaries. I'll be in touch. Wait here for Carmelita."

I stood in the darkness feeling my body: the burning sting from the crop, the drying wetness between my legs, the wonderful taste and smell of his orgasm in my mouth. It was so good and right. It was also so shameful and wrong. What would my husband say if he saw me like this?

Carmelita led me upstairs to a bathroom and removed the blindfold. She pointed to the towels and washcloths and left the room. I used the toilet, cleaned up, and rinsed my face and mouth. She seemed to know when I was done because she came back in the room without knocking just as I finished.

She took a small tin from the medicine closet and opened the lid. There was a yellow ointment inside. She proceeded to rub this soothing balm over my breasts and ass. She worked it in while being careful not to cause me any pain or discomfort. It cooled the burn and the skin looked a little less red almost immediately. I was still sexually charged as she did this. It felt very sensual to have this small dark woman massaging my breasts and ass.

Once I was fully rubbed down with the stuff, she put the lid back and led me to the parlor. She pointed at my clothes and left the room. This was the same room as before. I stood in here and had a furious internal debate. Now the room was the same, but I was different. It made the room feel different, alien. The whole world was changed, or at least my perspective on it had changed. 

Carmelita returned when I was dressed and walked me to the door. Before she opened it she handed me two items, the tin of balm for my crop marks, and a parchment envelope addressed to me.

I eased myself into the car and held the envelope in shaky hands. As I drove home I decided that tomorrow would be soon enough to find out what Mister James had in store for me.

It was late when I got home. Thankfully Matt was still at the library. I changed into flannel pajama tops and panties that hid the even red strips on my ass. When Matt came in, I could barely look him in the eye. I felt as if my lust for Mister James was still written all over my face. I half expected Matt to start questioning me about it. 

Fortunately for me, he never noticed anything amiss. He was so lost in the intellectual world of his studies that he couldn't see that I was lost in the physical and emotional world of my submission.



Changes Ch. 03



I sat at my kitchen table with the envelope from James the very next morning. I was trembling with fear and anticipation as I slowly opened the stiff paper. 

Kim, 

I am very pleased with your progress. I know it has been difficult for you to come to grips with the aspects of yourself that have been hidden away. You have tasted the freedom you can have from releasing your inhibitions and submitting yourself to me. I want you to have more than just a taste. You are to come to my home at 7:00 pm on Friday evening, two weeks from now. You will give yourself over to me until Sunday afternoon. During that time, I will dictate your every move, your every thought, and every action. You will be free to experience without having to be responsible for anything but reveling in the experience. Can you be that free? Can you let go that much? I think so. 

Come to me prepared to be a total sexual being. Leave society's rules and standards behind, but bring the lady that knows those rules. Lock her in a corner of your mind. Allow her to be shocked. Let her see what you can be. 

James

How could anyone know me that well? Not even Matt, my husband, sees that deeply into me. Hell, even I don't know myself as well as Mister James. I trembled with fear and excitement. Could I give myself over like that? Could I get away for a weekend without arousing Matt's suspicions? What would happen to me? 

I was afraid that if I went for a weekend, I would never be able to come back to my normal self. Just an afternoon was so engrossing that I felt out of phase with the world around me. What would a weekend do to me?

I spent the next couple of days trying to figure a way to spend a weekend away from Matt that wouldn't raise his curiosity. On Thursday Matt came to me saying that he was going to attend a seminar in Dallas over the same weekend that James wanted me. While Matt was busy explaining the details of the chemical engineering paper that he would be giving for his group, I was busy thinking about what James might have in store for me.

I began the week-and-a-half of waiting with an attitude of fear and with a lot of hesitation about spending the weekend with James. I finished the waiting with an attitude of trembling excitement. The transformation seemed very gradual to me. I gave myself over to James and hedonism over that period of time. My "real" life became less real. It was a holding action to keep me busy until James would have me under his control again – no, that's not quite it. I was under his control the whole time, real life was to keep me busy until he wanted my body again.

I saw Matt off to his seminar. He said he would be busy and probably not be able to call until late. I told him that I would be out with friends a lot and to just leave a message if I wasn't around when he called. As I went back into the apartment, I wondered if the wife Matt came home to would be very different from the one who saw him off – or at least the one he believed saw him off. Matt certainly didn't see the excited and horny slut that I hid under the surface of respectability.

The drive to James' house was quicker this time. I didn't spend long getting to the door, either. To my surprise, things began identically as they had the last time I visited. I stripped in the parlor and put on the silk blindfold quickly. Just as before, the pretty young Latina led me into the basement.

She stopped me once we had walked partway across the basement. I could hear her moving things around. I felt her put something around each ankle. It fit snugly, but was soft to the skin. I guessed it was some sort of cuff. She put something similar on my wrists. I could feel something dangle on the outside of the wrist cuffs. 

I imagined how I looked. Were the cuffs black leather? What would happen next? Where was James?

She pushed me back and laid me onto a big bed. My hands were lifted over my head and I heard a metallic click as they were secured to something. Matching clicks announced that my ankle cuffs had been similarly secured. 

"Hello, Kim," James said, his rich voice penetrating my soul. "You have quite a weekend in front of you. I hope you are ready for it. Are you ready for a little depravity?"

"Yes, Mister James, I'm ready," I was surprised at the strength of my voice. I was quivering with fear and excitement on the inside. My skin felt super sensitive and begged for touch. I could feel the heat and moisture between my legs. 

"That's nice my little hard bodied slut. You will be put through your paces this weekend." I heard him turn and his voice receded. "My Carmelita will get things rolling, I have some business to attend to tonight."

I heard a door shut, then I felt the silk blindfold being tugged down across my face until it hung around my neck. I blinked and took in the room. It was a pretty well lit room – something that you might imagine as a guest room in a wealthy estate or classy private hotel. There was beautiful furniture; ironwork head and footboards on the bed, an antique vanity with a mirror to one side of the big bed, and a large wardrobe on the other side.

My wrists were wrapped by black leather cuffs that had fleece linings against my skin. The cuffs had metal rings on them. They were clipped to the fancy iron work of the head board, keeping my arms straight over my head. My leg cuffs were attached to some kind of cable that went around the posts at the corners of the foot of the bed. 

Carmelita stood at the foot of the bed looking at me. I blushed when I realized the view she had with my legs parted as they were. I looked closely at her for the first time. Her black hair was pulled tight around to the back of her head. She had a maiden's body. Small, smaller than me even. No breasts to speak of, boyish hips, unlined face. I revised my earlier guess about her age downwards. She had certainly not seen twenty years yet. Her black uniform was not the fanciful "French Maids" outfit you can buy in lingerie shops. It was a standard knee length short sleeve outfit you expect to see of professional maids. 

Carmelita smiled and moved to the corner by my foot. She unhooked the cable and moved it to the top corner of the headboard, pulling my outstretched leg up. When she finished repeating the action on the other leg, my ankles were pulled up past my shoulders and I was spread open wide. I could see a faint smile curled at the corners of Carmelita's mouth.

She opened the wardrobe and took out what looked like a wiffle ball with straps on either side of it. She put the ball in my mouth and buckled the straps behind my head. I had been gagged. When she squeezed my nose shut, I realized I could still breath through the gag, even though speech was completely denied to me and swallowing was uncomfortable.

I wondered what would come next. She pulled a box out of the wardrobe and sat it next to me on the bed. Out of this box, she withdrew a small plastic container of a clear liquid. She popped the cap on the container and squirted this liquid all over my pussy, upper thighs, and ass. Then she started rubbing it in. 

The liquid was slick. Her hands slid and slipped on my taut hamstrings and butt. Her hands passed quickly over my exposed pussy and asshole without pausing. After coating the skin all around my groin with the liquid, Carmelita stood and adjusted my shackles. She lowered my legs and released my arms. She quickly rolled me over and reattached me face down on the bed. Then she took a thick firm pillow and put it under my hips so that my ass was lifted and my pussy and butt were exposed to the room. 

Carmelita reached down beneath my line of sight and lifted a shoebox from beside the bed. She looked into it for a moment, then she looked me in the eye. After a moment of contact, she smiled and lifted up what looked like a bunch of big marbles that were attached to a string. There was a ring on the end of the string. Carmelita dangled the string of marbles for me to see. I had no idea what they were.

She held the marbles in one hand and the little squeeze bottle of lubricant in the other. I felt a tremor deep in my belly. She was going to put the marbles into my body. I didn't know what to do. This was so completely outside of my experience that I was in shock. At the same time, I could feel my own lubrication starting. Something about being in this helpless position at the mercy of this young girl who was preparing to do unspeakable things to me was turning me on. 

I was completely surprised when, after lubricating the first marble, Carmelita pressed it against my exposed asshole. I had been prepared for her to put it in my pussy. I tightened up in protest. Carmelita just held the little ball against my taut muscles. With her free hand she began stroking my thighs lightly. Soon her fingers were pressing against my labia and teasing my clit. It didn't take long before I was moving my hips to increase the pressure of her fingers against me. As I humped my hips, she suddenly pressed on the marble, which I had all but forgotten in my desire for contact, into my ass. It slipped in with little resistance. 

As if to reward me for having taken the first marble into my ass, Carmelita stroked my pussy and clit until I was on the verge of an orgasm. Then she proceeded to insert each of the marbles or beads into me. All that was left was the string and the little ring to pull them out. I felt them inside me, it was not unpleasant. I felt full…and horny. 

Carmelita reached back into her box and removed a plastic device that had elastic straps and an electric cord that attached to a little control box. The plastic thing was shaped like a little bird of some kind. She showed me that when she adjusted the dial on the control box the little bird would vibrate at a progressively faster pace. I wasn't sure how this would work to give me pleasure. I couldn't imagine that thing in me. It was obviously designed to be worn against my privates rather than be inserted.


Carmelita worked the straps and the little device into place. Then she turned be back over so that I was on my back again. My hips were raised up on a pillow. She reattached my hands over my head and tied my legs back in that awkward position with my feet spread wide and up past my shoulders. The little bird thing was not on yet.

I could imagine how I looked. Spread wide, totally exposed, gagged, sex toys inside my ass and pressing my pussy. I was so horny and nothing was really happening. I moved my hips in a vain attempt to get some friction against my pussy. Carmelita smiled at my movement. She reached into the box and I felt myself shiver at the thought of her what next instrument of pleasure might be.

My breath caught when I saw her remove two wooden clothespins. My nipples crinkled. I knew where the pins were going. Carmelita started rubbing my breasts and tweaking my nipples. It felt so good. Then, without warning, she turned on the little vibrating bird. A wave of pleasure rolled up from my most innermost parts. As I writhed with the pleasure, Carmelita attached the pins to my bullet hard nipples. The pain was transformed from something bad into a kind of magnifier for the pleasure I was feeling. I quickly felt a huge orgasm coming.

I was thrusting my hips and pulling on my stout bonds as I approached what I expected to be the peak of pleasure. Just as I started coming, Carmelita started pulling on the string with the marbles in my butt. I felt the pressure build then release over and over as each marble was pulled through the tight ring of my sphincter. It took a huge orgasm and turned into the most shattering thing I had ever felt. I was totally helpless and a total slave to the feelings rocking my body. I don't know if it was a bunch of little orgasms stacked on end or if it was one incredibly long one. It is hard to characterize something so physically and emotionally extreme as what I felt. 

As I wound down I felt Carmelita removing my bonds and the implements of pleasure from my body. I drifted off into a dreamy almost asleep state. I knew where I was, but I was not very connected to anything. I just floated on the reverberations of the intense experience I had just had.

I was allowed to rest like that for a long time, maybe as much as an hour. Carmelita woke me and led me to a bathroom that was almost as big as my own living room. She pointed out the shower, soap, shampoo, razors, and towels. It was clear that I was to clean myself up. The walk-in shower had four or five heads that all sent water streaming or pulsing at my command. I took a long luxurious shower, shaving my legs, armpits, and mound with close attention. 

When I was done, Carmelita came in and helped dry my hair. She was brisk and professional, never giving a hint of what she had just done or seen. Once I was dry, powdered, and dressed in a tiny black silk robe, she led me back to the dungeon. I felt the butterflies start back up deep in my belly. The night wasn't over quite yet.

Carmelita reached into a wardrobe and removed a leather strap. It looked a lot like the leather belts lifters use when they are working with heavy loads except there were extra loops and buckles on it. She put the main section of it around my waist. Fastening it snugly but not so tightly that it hurt. It was immediately clear that the extra straps were designed to go around my arms and further immobilize me. Once she had the buckles buckled and the snaps snapped, all I could do was move my lower arms around a little bit. 

The next thing from the wardrobe were the two fleece lined leather cuffs for my ankles. I felt myself becoming moist at what they portended. As she fastened them to my legs, I wondered what my husband would think if he could see me now – all strapped up in black leather, at the mercy of my mystery lover/master and his young maid. I could feel my juices lubricating my pussy in anticipation.

Carmelita led me to a small narrow padded bench, not unlike the kind of bench you would see used for lifting weights at a gym. It was upholstered in soft leather. I was stretched down the length of this bench with my legs fastened to either side of it. I couldn't bring my knees together because my legs straddled the bench. My arms were helplessly stuck at my sides.

I felt vulnerable and exposed. I was beginning to tremble with building excitement. Would Master James return and have his way with me? Would I be left here to stew? I had no control over what was being done to my body. I was helpless at the hands of this young girl. 

I realized that I had been left alone for a couple of minutes and began to wonder what was going on. I twisted my head and saw Carmelita standing a few feet away. She met my eyes and smiled. Without breaking eyed contact, she reached up and began unzipping the light blue uniform she wore. The zipper crawled down the center of her chest, revealing a tiny black bra. When the zipper reached her waist, she pulled the sides back and shrugged the outfit over her shoulders. She never stopped looking at my eyes as she did this.

I felt hypnotized. I couldn't break eye contact if I had to. Her eyes were large sultry dark brown magnets holding me in a spell. My neck hurt from twisting up to see her, but I still couldn't move. I took in her small boyish figure in my peripheral vision. I could see she had on a black bra and thin black panties. She slipped out of her shoes and reached up to the front clasp on her bra. She paused with her hands on the clasp. Somehow, between her smoldering eyes and the faint almost smile on her lips she seemed to notch up the heat and intensity of the moment. I was transfixed by her eyes and by her striptease. 

She removed the bra in a smooth motion. Her aureoles were dark brown topped with hard little nipples. She bent and skinned out of her panties without ever breaking the eye contact that held me in a spell. She stood there over me, arms relaxed, legs poised. She looked very young, from looks alone she could have been anything from 15 to 25. I suspected she was older than she looked simply from the way she controlled and handled me. I couldn't imagine a youth with that kind of self possession. 

She stepped forward and began manipulating my wet folds with one hand and teasing my nipples with the other. She brought me to the edge of orgasm three or four times that way, always slowing back just as I was about to fall over the edge into shuddering bliss. I couldn't use my arms and my legs were immobilized. I closed my eyes and focused my attention on what she was doing to me.

The last time she pulled her hand from between my legs and put her fingers to my lips. I was so far gone at that moment that the thought of tasting my own juices from her fingers was as exciting as anything I could imagine. I sucked and licked every molecule of taste from her fingers. I was writhing and moving as she fed me my own taste.

When she pulled her hand away from my mouth I opened my eyes and looked at her. I watched her lick the fingers that had just been in my mouth. Her tongue darted out and caressed those delectable fingers. Then, locking eyes with me again, she slowly moved her hand down between re legs. I heard the snapping and popping sound as her fingers made and broke contact with her own wetness. I pulled against my bonds trying to reach for her.

I had never felt much in the way of attraction for other women. I never had the urge to experiment that way. But here under her control, under the spell of those dark eyes, I wanted nothing but to press my body to her, to touch her and feed on her pretty lips, to massage, lick, and suck on her tiny titties. I was held in place and could do nothing but struggle and moan with desire. I had cast off all rules and conceptions of morality. I was a creature of lust and desire. 

Just when my frustration was reaching an awful peak, Carmelita stood and straddled my head. I was looking now into her sex with the same rapture that her eyes had demanded moments ago. I looked at the trimmed dark triangle of her pubes and the shaved puffy outer lips. I saw the pink wet inner lips, distended from the blood flow of desire. I saw the moisture and smelled her sweet musk.

She slowly lowered herself onto my face. A thrill and a fright went through me as I extended my tongue to reach her inner lips. For just a moment I remembered who I was - a professional woman with a successful business, a married wife with a devoted husband, a daughter with loving parents. I imagined my clients, my family, and my husband seeing what I was doing at that moment and felt a rush of shame and humiliation. That rush quickly turned into a sexual thrill that tingled my body like silk being drawn under my skin. I raised my head to meet the wet cunt.

She sat on my face and rode my tongue. My nose was imbedded in the rosebud of her ass. She was using my face for her pleasure. I tried to squeeze my legs together for stimulation, my bonds and the bench prevented it. The restriction was as exciting in its own way as squeezing my thighs together would have. I came.

Carmelita rode on. She must have spent thirty minutes using my face as her personal sex toy. Finally, I felt her begin bucking faster and faster. She was mashing my nose and pushing herself against my mouth. She suddenly froze and with my tongue I felt her pussy throbbing in orgasm.

She climbed off of me and put her hands back on my wet slit. It only took moments for me to be on the verge of coming again. Something about the experiences of the weekend were making it easier and easier for me to come. As I was heaving on that little bench I felt a funny wetness between my legs. Carmelita was putting oil all over my pussy and her hand. I flushed at the thought of what was coming. 

The pretty innocent looking dark eyed beauty folded her hand into a narrow shaft and worked four fingers into me. I felt myself stretching to accommodate her hand. I felt pressure increase as her thumb and then the knuckle of her thumb further stretched my sensitive tissue.




Changes Ch. 03



With that said, he motioned, and the assistants removed Amy from the table, replacing and securing her to her chair, replacing her with April, who fought them even more, to no avail. She was quickly secured to the table, just as her sister Amy had been earlier. Once again Dr. Campbell brought out the lighted camera speculum and inserted it into April's exposed pussy. "Well April, I see that you are obviously not a virgin any longer, but that really is better for our little test anyway. Once again, my mind wondered, if the human species can support an X-Y-X, tri-chromosomed girl/boy, known to us all as a Hermaphrodite, than why wouldn't it also be able to support an X-X-X, tri-chromosomed SuperWoman? Well, I intend to prove that with just a little help from medical science, it can and will. On April, you are indeed a very lucky one. In just a few weeks or so, you will be the world's first SuperWoman. You will have an absolutely uncontrollable and totally insatiable need for sex. You will be as equally attracted to women as you will be to men, and your body will be the absolute height of envy of every woman everywhere. Your tits are going to grow, becoming a perfectly sculptured D-cup, your waist will shrink and your hips will flare out until your body achieves the world renown Barbie Doll classic figure. Even your areolas will get that sought after "puffy" rise to them, you nipples becoming extremely elongated,, and your clitoris will be larger, longer and thicker than any other woman's clitoris has ever been. It will also become so sensitive that you will almost not be able to stand it. Eventually I will try to combine what I hope to accomplish in both you and your sister, so that future SuperWomen will also be Perpetual Virgins but that will have to wait just a little longer. Can't have all the cookies in the first batch out of the oven." April's shot went into an exposed thigh, and then she was released and re-secured to her chair.

"Well Ladies and Gentlemen, at least for the moment that's an appropriate salutation, now we can have a bit of fun!"

"One more item of business before we begin though." 

Each of the four assistants had a thick metal and leather collar in their hands. Quickly each of us was fitted with one of these collars, and there was a noticeable and distinctive "click" as each one was fastened around our necks.

"Now just a little explanation, and maybe a little demonstration, so that each of you will understand that disobedience, non-compliance, even hesitation to comply with a demand is simply not in your best interest. What is now around your neck is a very complex piece of equipment. First of all, it can send anywhere from a very mild electric "tingle" to get your attention." As he said this, he pushed a button on a small remote he held in his hand, and Keith jerked his head sharply. "To a very intensly painful jolt of electric shock." This time Robert's body jerked violently, stiffened and then sagged into complete and total limpness. "That, folks was on a setting of "Medium". Full power would surely kill. "The collar can also tighten very quickly, cutting off air, and even greatly constricting blood flow through the critical neck arteries." It was April's time to be used as the example, and she began to first gasp for air, then to turn blue in the face very quickly. Just before she passed out, the collar apparently released it's horrible grip, and she began sucking in all the air she could through flaring nostrils. "Now, should any one of you get the bright idea to try and escape, the collars are wired into the security system of this facility, and should you somehow manage to reach any exit door, both electric and constricting features will automatically engage, at the maximum settings. It takes about three seconds to cause death in this mode. Additionally, there are sensors within the collar that will activate the same reaction upon sensing any attempt to cut or destroy the collar. The only way it will ever be removed is by being placed in a specially designed electronic deprogramming chamber, whose location shall never be disclosed to you, much less the intricate and computer controlled deactivation program that must be run to deactivate the device. Now, on to more entertaining things!" 

The assistants had removed the utterly repulsive GYN exam table my two lovely daughters had been so blatantly exposed upon, and it had been replaced by a different sort of apparatus. I had no idea what it was, but much to my chagrin and absolute horror, I was all too soon to find out.

"Now what we have before us is a most unique devise, one of my own invention I might add. It serves a number of purposes, and is most effective in doing what it has been designed to do. All I need is someone to assist me in demonstrating its usefulness to you. Now, lets see, ahh.. Yes, Alice, you dear would be the logical choice, because over the next several weeks, I do believe that you will be spending quite a lot of time on this most unique device.

The assistants had already moved to my chair, and I was released and brought over to the contraption. "Now Alice, dear, all I need you to do is to get down on your hands and knees, here, here are the pads for your knees, and up here are the molded hand imprint pads for your hands."

The device stood about 12 to 18 inches off the floor, and along with the places Dr. Campbell had pointed out, were several other worrisome but unique parts to be mindful of. I didn't have much time to contemplate what this device was going to do to me, because I was quickly forced into position upon it. My knees sank into the cushions provided for them, and then my hands went down onto the molded palm pads that were in place for them. As soon as both palms were placed firmly on the palm pads, a soft whirring occurred, accompanied by steel bracelets coming out and securing my wrists. At the same time hidden clamps clamped around my knees, and leg supports rolled out into place and secured my legs, then began to move so that my legs were spread wide apart,, exposing my entire pubic and anal areas for everyone to see. There was a post with a small cup device at its tip which extended itself, cupping my chin and lifting my head so that I was staring straight ahead. I could not see it, but an area directly beneath my dangling breasts opened, revealing four suction cup devices, two small and two larger cups with hoses attached. There was also a small metal section, slightly curved in a small u shape, which supported the middle section of my body. It was held or supported by four posts, two on either side of the device. I still had my gag in place, so I could not scream, but I knew that I was in a very bad situation. 

Dr. Campbell began explaining to my family. "As you can see, this is a very different and unique adaptation of the old traditional milking machine. Now, at this point in time, we all know and realize that Alice's little titties are not going to give us any milk. The suction devices can also be used to help expedite the process of milk production, and to help promote nipple and even some breast mass growth, let me demonstrate."

With that said, the doctor reached under me and quickly attached the two smaller suction cups, rather more like slightly wider tubes to my two dangling nipples and activated a switch. This in turn produced suction, drawing my nipples down into the tubes, pulling on them mercilessly, and sending bolt after bolt of arousal to my now open and vividly displayed pussy. I could quickly feel my juices begin to run down the insides of my legs. My body was responding to my degradation and exploitation. But it was about to get worse, much worse.

Dr. Campbell explained that instead of allowing a woman to either sit or recline as the milk is pumped from her breasts, he designed this machine to allow gravity to assist in the collection, therefore having the breasts hang dangling from the body. He also explained that the larger cups would be useful in aiding the growth of breast tissue, and that he would demonstrate their usage shortly. He indicated that I would not be the only one to experience the usefulness of this machine. He went on to explain that while secured in the device, as was not obvious, the woman's body was made open and accessible for a variety of sexual usages. Dr. Campbell stated that he believed milk production would be enhanced with the encouragement of linking it to sexual pleasure.



Changes Ch. 03



The next day, I brought the Monza into the shack and began preparations for a complete paintjob, simply because I now had nothing better to do and I had to keep my mind off things.

It wasn't working.

For the first time, I began to really doubt my ability to get out of this. I mean, the damned woman had control over cops! Cops that raped and degraded me worse than she had and then laughed about it. And how they degraded me, or me myself, maybe. I could see how I'd enjoy the sexual act itself, what man wouldn't? But the circumstances, how they scared the shit out of me and,... fucking laughed. Bitch pigs.

After they left, I crawled into the shower and actually cried in the bottom of the tub with the hot water needling me, dashing away the evidence of my degradation at theirs and Dagmar's hands, wishing it could wash away this whole situation and whatever screwed up interest Dagmar had in me for whatever warped reason. It was just all so unfair; why did my life have to be ruined? I never did anything at all do deserve the turn of events forcing the changes in my life that I was powerless to stop. 

At least I didn't get myself off after they left.

Once I got the Chevy safely up on axle stands, I went into the house for the bottle and brought it out to the shop with me, sitting at my workbench, sipping and smoking a cigarette before I got started.

With a lighter mood, I walked out of the shop later that afternoon, intending to go into the house for a bite of food. I saw the black car immediately, just as quickly noting the distinctive, kidney shaped, two piece grille with the famous blue and white roundel.

I walked closer to it, slowly, as though there may be a bomb, looking over the sleek BMW 7 series sedan and then looking around to see if there was someone in the yard. 

After warily approaching and entering the back door of the house, I performed a careful search, brandishing an old metal ladle, leaping around corners and into rooms, whipping open closet doors but, finding no intruders, I returned to the car.

I carefully tried the driver's door to the twelve cylinder Corvette killer and was somehow not surprised to find it unlocked. I sat behind the wheel, left foot still planted on the dirt driveway, and saw the now familiar memo stickit on the steering wheel right away. Removing it, I turned it over and read the single word printed there in Dagmar's hand.

      Trunk

It was full of boxes. A large manila envelope was taped to one of the boxes on top and I tore it free, opened and emptied it out on the large box top.

Two sets of BMW car keys, one cell phone, one Rolex watch, one quite expensive looking dog collar (?) and a folded piece of paper. I unfolded the paper and found it was a note from Dagmar.

boy,

#1 You work for me now.

#2 You will at all times keep this cell phone turned on, charged and on or near your person. You will answer it immediately, should it ring, and respond in the manner instructed. This phone can call out for my convenience, meaning that it should never be busy when I call unless you are doing my bidding.

#3 This car is mine and not yours. You will always use it when I summon you and when you are about my business. I expect you to keep it properly clean and to familiarize yourself with it right away.

#4 When I summon, you will always dress appropriately, sometimes as I instruct.

She didn't sign it, but then she didn't have to, did she? 

I took a closer look at the dog collar. Did she expect me to get a dog, or what? It was made of separate metal pieces, silver it looked like, that were actually very detailed little roses, her trademark. It was about one and one half inches wide with black silk on the inside and had a clasp, not a buckle, and she didn't expect me to get a dog. I'd forgotten, she already had one.

I shoved the degrading collar back inside the envelope along with everything else that came in it, save for one set of BMW keys and the phone. I flipped it open, checked for a dial tone, and slipped it into my pocket along with the keys.

I opened a few box lids with a pinky finger. Suits, shoes, jackets, vests, long coats, ties, shirts, everything. It was all in either gray or black, with the exception of some white shirts and red ties. Some of the articles also had her emblem professionally stitched into them.

She had to be crazy. Stylishly crazy, yes, but crazy nonetheless and, obviously, very wealthy with no small amount of power in her own circles, whatever those circles might be.

I lugged all the boxes inside, hung the clothes that ought to be hung, drawered the ones to be drawered, etc., and left the collar in the envelope on my dresser along with the rest of its contents. I went back outside, fishing the keys to the big black car out of my pocket to 'familiarize' myself with it.

Later that evening, I stood in my room, covered in bright orange sanding dust, looking at the collar that I'd shaken out of the envelope on my dresser. After going to the bathroom to wash my hands and neck, I went back in and picked it up. After a few moments hesitation, I fit it around my neck without clasping it, just to satisfy my great curiosity about whether or not it would fit, or something.

It did. Perfectly. I walked to the mirror in the bathroom to look, still holding it up and around my neck, the only clean spot on me. My orange smeared face under my longish, dark/ bright orange hair held no expression as I at first looked at it, but that changed as my dick began to rapidly harden. I don't know if it was the look of it on me, the feel of the satin on my neck, or what the thing meant, but the reaction within me was intense enough to make me remove it and hurriedly return it to the dresser. I left my room as though I were snooping in my parents' bedroom, suddenly realizing how wrong I was to be doing so.

Back in the garage, with loud music and the reality of familiar, dirty, honest work, I took a large drink of the bottle, trying to think of dead kittens.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Another late afternoon, (Saturday) another hangover defeated. I was in the shop, buzzed on rye again and willing myself to not go inside and put the damned collar on, applying spots of finish putty here and there with a palette in one hand, applicator in the other. The door opened behind me as I scanned intensely for pits that needed filling, spilling temporary sunlight into my fluorescent world before it was shut again.

Earl, a semi retired delivery guy who worked for the parts supplier I dealt with, was an all right old feller. It was just that being out where I was, I was usually the last stop on his route and he had an irritating habit of hanging around to jaw with me after our business was settled. (I'd had to learn a few tricks to politely get rid of him) I smiled a little as I thought of the grinder I'd set under the car after putting in my order that morning.

"That little Toyota's gettin' slower every week, Earl. What the fuck kept ya?" I joked.

"Excuse me?" Dagmar's cold voice asked.

I just about shit myself. I whipped around without even collecting my composure first.

"Dag- Mistress!", I hastily corrected.

She looked so different. Her hair was completely down and full, makeup flawlessly applied, red lips, black eyeliner and nails. Most eye popping was the white dress that looked like a light, long sleeved, turtleneck sweater, showing almost all of her legs and holy moly! This was a completely different Dagmar from the one I knew at work. This Dagmar was just something else and I stared, stunned for a moment.

"I,... thought you were,... someone,... Jeez, you look just,... Wow!" 

Hey, despite all she'd done and those two pigs that visited me the day before, she just did and it had to be said. Like I mentioned, it would have been a lot easier to hate her completely, the way I wanted to, if she was an ugly old bag or something. But then, nothing about the situation was straight forward, uncomplicated, or fair.

She grinned and Answered, "What a nice thing to say, boy. And a smart thing. Thought you'd pull a fast one the other day, huh?"

"You can't blame me for trying." I managed in a small voice, looking into the dollop of mixed putty on the palette as though some redemption might be found there.

"Oh, I could. But I won't. Complete acceptance can't be instant in your position; I can well imagine how I'd feel in your place, after all. Besides, maybe it's just as well. Now you see how useless it is to defy me, don't you?"

I closed my eyes, reminding myself that, as far as I was concerned, the jury was still out on that one, but said, "Yes."

"And I think you've already been punished enough for a first offense.", she added, spinning on her white high heels and wandering further into the garage, looking around herself as I went back to applying putty. 

"I might have known. I'm surprised there wasn't a mutt tied to a pickup and a refrigerator on your back step."

"What do you mean?" I asked defensively.

She picked up a telescopic grabber tool from the workbench, pushing the button and spreading the claws at the other end, watching with a widening smile as they closed, retracting into the telescopic tube when she let go.

"Well, you know, you being a Maritimer. French and Indian is a nice mix, though, at least with you. Too bad it has to come with such an uncultured, provincial mindset. Hey, I could really have a great time with this! I'll bet it opens far enough to grab a tentacle!"

"Please forgive my lower breeding, Mistress, I'll do my best to pretensify myself in your presence." I gloomed, scraping the applicator across some light rock chips at the bottom of the driver's door. 

" ... Watch your attitude, boy. I'm in a good mood today, don't ruin it, or you'll be the one who pays. And if you think Constables Gordon and Raitt were bad,... Do you need this?"

"When I need it, yeah. Look, if you promise not to break my balls with it, I'll buy you your own brand new one.

She laughed at this, saying nothing in reply.

"Y'know, I'm not having a very good time with this.", I said frankly, taking my chances as I scraped the remainder from the palette before tossing it on the bench in favour of a rag to wipe the applicator off with. "And you might want to do something bad to me when I say this, but,... I don't even want to leave here. I don't want to face people because of you. I can barely look at myself in the mirror and I don't know what to think of myself anymore. And you gotta know I hate you for what you've done to me. There, I said it."

She'd looked sharply up at me, an intensely focused expression that I couldn't read crossing her features as she started moving towards me, then froze in mid step as the door opened.

"How the fuck are ya, kid!?" Earl wheezed at his usual loud volume.

He was loaded down with a box of auto body supplies, huffing and puffing his oxygen through a nicotine stained, whitish gray beard and mustache. A NASCAR cap sat atop his head at a jaunty angle, which also proudly advertised the outlet he worked for and some connection it had to someone named Dick Trickle.

He deposited the box on the floor, just inside the door, straightened and started heading for me with the bill in his hand, moobs jiggling obscenely under his shirt, when he saw Dagmar. Immediately forgetting about me, he altered course for her, expression brightening considerably, and extended the nicotine stained fingers of his right hand while openly leering at her luscious body as he introduced himself.

"How ya doin there, pretty lady? Name's Earl, and am I ever pleased to meet you!"

Getting no response, he finally looked up at her face. Her upper lip was curled in complete disgust as she, in turn, looked him up and down. He didn't seem to get it.

"Don't like shakin' hands, pretty lady? I'm a lot friendlier than that pup.", he informed her, jerking his head back at me while his eyes returned to those great boobs, laughing at his own joke. "I'm a better kisser too."

Her lip curled even further and I remembered when she told me that she didn't hate me. I had no trouble believing that at all then, not seeing that expression on her face at the time. This man, she hated. I tried to think of something I could do to prevent the impending train wreck, but my mind could only draw a blank as it all happened right in front of me.

"Have you never heard of knocking!?" she snapped in his face. "It's a little fucking thing that civilized Humans do when they're a visitor! Put your fucking hand down, you disgusting piece of vermin feces! And if you call me 'pretty lady' one more god damned time, I'll have my 'pup' break you in half and dump you out on the road as the garbage you are!"

Earl was wide eyed, mouth agape in shock, almost bending backwards as she stood over him with her superior height. I could only wait helplessly now, wondering how far she'd take this as Earl's dazed expression made me think of a prey animal on those wildlife videos after the lioness has clamped her jaws down firmly on the back of its neck. Under other circumstances, it would have been pretty comical.

"I was in the middle of a personal and private conversation when you barged in on me, you boorish, retarded oaf! And how dare you ogle me as if my sole purpose for being on this planet is to be eye candy for some inbred, mutant, retarded farm animal like you!! Your employer can expect a very unpleasant email about what an uncouth, disgusting lower primate he has delivering his products to his clientele! Perhaps I'll even send one to his wife! Now, you see to whatever little business it is that a little man like you could have with my 'pup', and then get out! Get out of this building, off this property and you never come back! Do you understand, you chimp!? You stain on the asshole of Humanity!!?

She stepped around him and walked for the door with a mean expression, snapping at me, "Get rid of this garbage, finish up what you were doing here and come inside! Don't keep me waiting long, boy!"

"Yes."

She stopped up and, without looking over her shoulder, spat, "Yes, what?"

" ... Yes, Mistress." I mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, Mistress." I said clearly, after which she was satisfied and left the garage.

Hurricane Dagmar had been and gone, leaving as suddenly as she'd arrived, in her wake a trail of the usual Human devastation and misery. Earl was still immobilized, his shell-shocked visage pale and blank. Jaw agape, he looked from the door to me, back to the door again. 

Having been through this and worse on account of her, I was able to adjust to the aftermath faster, taking advantage of Earl's mental lag time. I took the bill out of his hand, along with the pen he was still holding, and hastily signed it on the roof of the car before stuffing it untidily into his shirt pocket, carefully avoiding his moob before kabobing it (the bill, not the moob) with the pen.

Doubly glad I'd plugged in and set the grinder ahead of time, I got underneath the car and began grinding on the edge of an exhaust clamp for no reason other than to make it easier for him to just go away, hoping to God he'd do just that when he came around.

After about thirty seconds, he did, but I kept on grinding for another minute anyway.

Around three quarters of an hour later, I stood on my little back porch, willing myself to go in while ignoring the anxiety that was screaming for me to run. Who knew what kind of temperament she had now? And dam that moronic Earl, anyway! With any luck, her mood would have abruptly swung back to what it was when she arrived. At last, I went in, figuring that if she was still in a bad mood, it might be possible to charm her around.

"How long were you going to just stand out there?" she asked without looking up or turning from my computer monitor in the living room.

"Just hoping you'd be in a better mood, Mistress." I said truthfully.

A short laugh ejected from her mouth before ordering, "Make me something to eat, boy."

I shrugged, went to the kitchen to wash up and started on my only real specialty, (besides bachelor gruel) a little dish I called 'fluffed eggs'. I was extra careful to have the pan at the right temperature, always stirring and turning over the eggs so they wouldn't brown or stick, throwing some shredded cheddar on at the last minute and dumping it into a plate I'd pre-warmed in the oven. I slapped two pieces of perfectly browned toast on the edge of the plate, buttered with real butter, and took this out to her with a fork, returning to the kitchen for the cup of coffee I guessed she might want along with it.

I waited at her side, anxious to hear her approve of her meal.

"Why isn't there any salt and pepper?"

"Oh,... sorry, I forgot, just one second,..."

I hurried back to the kitchen, cursing myself for having forgotten that little detail. This was turning into a bit of a stress trip as I remembered how expensive her tastes were. I couldn't do any better than 'fluffed eggs' and was, myself, satisfied with any nutritional meal regardless of taste and never usually bothered with condiments in any case.

I brought the shakers, salted and peppered the plate for her while she made a sour face at the coffee.

"I'm sorry, I only have instant."

"That's no excuse." she replied, digging into her food.

I was, for some reason, so concerned about her approval of my efforts in the kitchen on her behalf, I forgot to take note of what she was doing. She'd plugged a removable drive into my computer and was copying everything from my IP address to every detail of my banking, bills and everything else.

"Give me your wallet and any paperwork you have concerning your finances."

I did what I was told because, of course, what else was there? At least she seemed calm. She quickly sorted through everything, removing my credit and debit cards before giving my wallet back.

She went on searching for God only knew what through this program and that as she ate, still not commenting on whether or not she even liked it. As simple as it was, I was practiced with this dish and I knew that I'd done this one extra well, but after finishing the eggs and toast, she took another sip of the coffee, making another sour expression as she glanced at me, and got up, looking around.

"This place is a dump, by the way. I may move you,... Anyway, get a garbage bag. A big one, I think we'll need it."

"Yes, Mistress." I toned.

Two minutes later I was following her around my painfully humble, unofficially condemned trailer with the garbage bag whilst she grabbed things, putting them into it, sometimes simply pointing, indicating that I should do it. I was utterly stupefied at the time, unable to get over the limits to which this woman would so casually and habitually take things. She never ceased to amaze and mortify me in so many different, albeit always domineering, ways.

I didn't have much to begin with, so she started at the front door where I lost a dirty, ripped old work coat that was very warm and comfortable in the winter along with an old pair of sneakers. On to the kitchen, she started trashing foods and condiments that I could only assume didn't meet her standards for whatever reason and, after an ensuing, short search of the bathroom, I found myself at the end of the shortened hall, watching her inspect the rough piece of plywood.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's a barricade." I answered. "The Master Bedroom's back there."

"Why is it barricaded?"

"The supports under the trailer have rotted at that end, so the floor's separated from the walls and the roof's opened up in a few spots. It's basically uninhabitable back there."




Changes Ch. 03



"What?"

"It's a cheap rent, Mistress."

"Well, so is a hole beneath the roots of a large tree, boy." 

In my bedroom, she really had a field day with my clothes.

"Um, Mistress, I know some of this stuff looks old, but they're just work clothes."

"Oh, puh-lease! I've seen you wear most of this stuff to work. Even this rag." she noted, holding a tattered old green shirt that I'd slopped some battery acid on quite a while back, in a different city and life. "Bag it. Ughh! These slacks always made you look like a retard."

"I don't look good in dress clothes, I can't help it."

"You just don't know how to dress yourself, is all. Plus, you've been associating with so-called people such as that disgusting little bedbug that so rudely interrupted me in the garage for far too long, probably since forever."

She tossed them over and I put them in the bag while she went on rifling through my rapidly shrinking wardrobe, grabbing a pair of cheap casual pants.

"How I always detested these on you. Anyway, even if you do only wear half this garbage in the garage, it's still no excuse for you to dress like the village idiot, is it? Oh God, your underwear is,... Just throw it all away, she said, removing the drawer and dumping it on the bed. "Apart from thermal layers in the winter, I don't want you wearing underwear anymore, not unless I say. My god, look at all this zero class stuff, you're just lucky I caught you in time, before you ended up with a mullet."

A little later, I was tying up the now full bag by the back door, wondering why she couldn't have at least been nice enough to comment on how neat I kept the place, when she came across with yet something else.

"I want you to go to the bank and close out your accounts tomorrow. Bring all the cash here."

Okay, I had to say something at this point.

"Mistress, y'know,... I got a rent payment coming up soon, and I sorta need-"

"No you don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't pay rent anymore."

"You're,... paying my rent, Mistress?"

"Don't be stupid, do I look like someone who rents anything? People pay me rent." she scoffed. "I bought the property."

(!!!)

"Oh, don't fret, boy. I told you, I own you and that makes me responsible for you. I can't have you paying rent to some stranger, can I? Besides, I don't want you wasting time worrying your little head about such things. Your only concern now is me and my bidding. No distractions. Now, come here and rub the back of my neck." she said, sitting in my computer chair and turning her back on me again.

I couldn't believe it. I wanted to fall on my knees and cry, "Enough already!" I mean, the woman personally and financially sodomizes me, and now she wants me to rub her neck? Under different circumstances, I'd have wrung her neck! But I walked over and, after some brief hesitation, got down to the job at hand, making her jump.

"Hey, not so rough!"

"Sorry, Mistress."

"Shut up and make it feel good, boy."

Having had some personal experience with aches and pains, I knew right where to go and what to do when I got there. I used my thumbs to isolate and knead specific and known stress areas as Dagmar browsed a file containing my Age Of Empires high scores.

"Yes, right there. Mmmmmmm! Oh, boy. I think we finally found something you're good at."

So, there it was. My fluffed eggs and tidiness didn't cut it with her at all. At least the neck massage made her feel good.

That's when I started to get hard again. I shook my head slowly with a disgustedly whiny expression which I was glad she couldn't see. What the hell was it with that, anyway!? As much as I hated her, I had to admit I liked this. In a sense, it wasn't like I could do anything and touching Dagmar's body wasn't unpleasant. I just hated giving in to that aspect of my attitude towards her, was all. It only made me feel all the more powerless. Emasculated, even.

"Do my shoulders now. ... Mmmm. Oh, that feels so nice. ... I understand that you hate me, you know. I would expect it and I can hardly blame you, but what you don't understand is that I'm improving you. Everything I've done will raise you as a man, will teach you class and style that you've never known. I'm bettering you and I know that, in time, you'll see that and thank me for it. And boy,... what was so good about your old life, anyway? You had no friends, no connections, no nothing."

"I had my freedom and the freedom to make my own decisions."

"Yes, and look where that got you. I'll bet your cock is nice and hard right now, isn't it?"

Coming out of nowhere as that did, I was taken aback, pausing a moment in the act of rubbing her upper arms. Of course it was, and how embarrassing to have to admit to it.

"That's the other reason I hate you." I monotoned.

"Heh. But your cock loves me. It does. And do you know why? It's because deep down inside, all your life you wanted a good, strong woman to tell you what to do, to take control. I am that woman. You want me because it's who you are. Tell me how much your cock loves me, boy."

(Oh my God, why did she have to do these things? Couldn't she just be happy with the stinkin' massage?)

"My cock loves you a whole bunch, Mistress."

"Embellish.", she teased. "Tell me details, and do my back now.", she added, leaning forward with her forearms folded on the edge of the desk in front of her as I wondered if she wanted poetry, or what?

I stammered, "My cock loves you so much, it gets hard whenever you're around and whenever I think of you."

"Of course it does, but how sweet of you to say it.", she exclaimed, turning her head to show her pleased smile. "Tell me how beautiful I am."

"You're so beautiful, I can't take my eyes off you."

Didn't she know how beautiful she was? Her insecurities, as I'd come to identify some of her odd behavioral patterns, were baffling.

"I noticed that about you right away. I remember walking in to meet your class that evening, to see if any of you looked like you could at least sell your bodies to a homeless man for a nickel, and there you were, all googly eyed and sooo,... It was a perfect first impression, especially how you looked down when our eyes met. I wanted you on the spot. Then it happened several more times as the weeks went by and I could clearly see that I excited you, but I knew you respected me too much to ever do something stupid like ask me out for coffee, or let me catch you checking me out. I liked that, too. Oh yes, very much did I like that." she snickered.

I wondered where she was going with all this, but wasn't she right about how it was with she and I in those days?

"I was intrigued by your behavior, given the type of boy you are, a wilder no less, and all the more exciting for it, I can assure you. But then, a few months later, you suddenly came up with 'the touch' on the phone. At first I was proud, but the better you became, the cockier you got until your respect for me began to diminish. You felt secure from me in your achievements and you knew you no longer had to fear my authority over you so much. You shoved your respect for me aside along with any fears you had of being fired for not performing, and I have to say that I felt quite betrayed about that."

"It's not exactly a great idea to ask a fellow employee, especially one in management, out for a coffee." I commented. "It seemed safest to just,..."

"Ignore me.", she finished. "You knew I noticed you. I might have invited you for that coffee, as would have been proper. But no, you just turned me off and, as much as I loved your first attitude towards me, I hated the new one."

She swiveled around in the chair to face me, grinning at the situation in my pants. She unzipped my jeans and stuck her hand in, producing a surprised gasp from me. Cursing my underwear, she brought it out through the fly, every hard inch of it, along with my balls, and let them hang there while my face turned red.

"That better?"

"Yes, Mistress." I had to mumble at the floor.

"Ohhhhh, see? I have you back the way you were. A nice, shy, respectful boy, standing there with his cock out should I want to use it,... Look at me, pet."

I did and she looked back, the amused smile her face had been wearing up to this point seeming to falter a little. By the time she stood, the smile was gone, replaced with something else. It actually made me move backwards a half step, prompting her to quickly grab the back of my head as she yanked up on the short dress. She sat back down, dragging me with her, using both her hands to forcefully guide my head between her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties and she pulled me closer, slouching in the chair and squirming her crotch closer still.

"I think it's high time you introduced your face to my pussy." she husked. "I'm told you're very good at this, pet, but start with some nice kisses to show her how much you love and respect her."

Out of reflexive instinct, I was gripping the edge of the chair, trying to back off from where I was being forced until I saw those full, dark, pouting lips, her black pubic hair just beneath her white dress. I brushed my lips across that hair, making her jump in her seat a little while I relaxed my grip on the edge of the chair. Hey, it was Dagmar, not the pigs. 

I kissed her in the same place, a light one like she wanted, then a couple more before moving down and kissing the crook of her leg as her hands relaxed as well, sensing I was going to do as she pleased without being forced. She spread her legs further and I actually moaned as I kissed her moistening lips up and down, working my way to her clitoris.

Now she was the one emitting small gasps as I pressed my mouth a little harder, kissing her opening long, sucking just a little as if I were kissing her mouth.

"Mmm! Ohhh! Ohh, yes, pet! Like that! Oh god, yes!"

I let go of the seat cushion all together, slipping my hands around her ass and pulling her closer, now feeling around a little between her lips with my tongue.

"Ohh! Ohh! Yes! Fuck!"

I loved it.

My tongue began pressing a little harder, just enough to fully explore her and every detail she offered, dragging my kissing lips wherever it roamed. She practically went nuclear when I explored under her hood, around her clit and every square millimeter of that as well. 

I enjoyed her as I pleased, and my pleasure was great as I cleaned her. It wasn't long before she groaned her orgasm to my tongue driving into her canal, my fingers working her clit from over the top of her thigh. Yep, she got the royal treatment.

Then she was up and out of the chair, quicker than greased lightning and pushing me down on the floor and flat on my back. I was shocked at her speed and apparent strength as she tore my pants down and off, throwing a leg over me, straddling me and holding my wrists to the floor beside my ears. She kissed me full on the lips, hard and rough, like it was meant as an insult, or a threat.

"Now, don't you cum, fucktoy. You hear?" she purred. "Don't you dare let yourself cum."

She giggled at my shocked expression, sliding down until my dick was grinding against her crotch. She closed her eyes and ground herself up and down until she trapped me in her lips. Inhaling sharply, her eyelids fluttered and her parted lips twitched as she slowly rolled her hips, working herself down and around me and enjoying every second of it, as I was.

How did she expect me to not-?

"Ohhhhh, god, yeeess! Mmmmm!", she almost growled as she sat upright to start pumping herself up and down on me.

(dead kittens, dead kittens!)

Before long, she was fucking hard and grunting each time she collapsed on me, the carpeted floor underneath me offering no forgiveness to the hard, raunchy penetration that was putting both of us off our pins. And she was tight, completely unlike what one would expect from her size and attitude towards sex, and dead kittens weren't doing it, neither were thoughts of optimal exhaust diameters, or favorable wheel and tire sizes. And why did it always have to be this way with her? Why always the teasing and mental torture?

Her pace gradually quickened along with her volume until she was banging me for all she was worth. And once again, there was no question of who was banging the hell out of who. I really was just a fucktoy to her, the rest of the dildo, maybe, and the increasing pain in my tailbone proved it, bringing me away from orgasm more effectively than even the thought of having sex with Celine Dion. It was worse than trying to do sit-ups on a cement floor wearing nothing but gym pants.

After suddenly wailing, long and loud at the ceiling, she tensed and stopped for a moment, spasmodically squeezing my thighs with her knees during an intense, silent orgasm. At the end, she let out a loud, whimpering cry with a lung full of air and relaxed, breathing hard as I thanked all that was sacred that the punishment against my tailbone had stopped while it was still possible to physically get up and walk away from this encounter.

I, however, was still hard and still inside of her, moaning in pain and pleasure at the same time, and when she started to slide herself up and down my cock again, I couldn't believe it. This time she reached down and played with her clit, slowly but firmly pumping me, coming down a little harder each time until my tailbone was screaming louder than my battered groans as she dropped herself about once per second.

"OHH! OHH! AHH!" she forced, enjoying what was obviously a painful experience for her as well.

Soon she picked up the pace again and I was getting pretty concerned. I just let myself yell like she was because there was nothing for it as the pain took over the pleasure of how she squeezed my cock,... everywhere. If she didn't stop soon, she'd wreck me for life.

I could tell she was approaching another orgasm as her voice took on a sandpapery quality. She threw her head back and yelled unabashedly, hair flying, bucking up and down as though I had a lifetime warranty. 

By the time she was done, she was doing what I can only describe as, 'power sobbing', and the expression on her face was beyond my ability to describe. She fucked like she was demented, maniacal and she was absolutely magnificent. I'd never had sex even remotely like that before and just the sight of this well built woman sitting on top of me there like that would have been enough to make me cum, if not for the excruciating pain. For the first time, I noticed my whole pelvis was sore. I worried that she may have done damage, possibly a dislocated or broken hip as I lay inert beneath her, the both of us moaning.

She flopped down , her face inches from mine, forearms on the floor beside my shoulders and stared at me, seemingly in a daze for some moments while she regained herself. Moving forward, she allowed me to fall out, a move that made both of us twitch, me painfully grinding my own tailbone this time in the process. Then that predatorial smile she used that day in her office crept to her face, diluted as it was with her orgasmic satisfaction. She issued a small laugh and kissed me, a little less rough this time, me returning it and somehow managing a pained smile after.

Still panting a little, she said, "You did very well, pet. My fucktoy impressed and pleased me very much. So far, you're turning out much better than I dared to hope for."

I was proud and gratified she felt this way and managed a smile that was a little bigger, replying, "I'm glad I made you happy. And,..."

"What?"

"You're just,... incredible, Mistress, but,..."

"Yes, pet?"

"Well, if it's umm, convenient, I wonder if you could please let me up, because my tailbone is in the crawlspace underneath the trailer,..."

The alluringly beautiful Ms. Alejandro became a little serious, asking, "Was I too much for you, boy?"

"Almost. As long as you don't mind loading and unloading a wheelchair from now on."

Her smile came slowly back and she even started laughing a little. She got up and straightened her dress a little so I could carefully roll to my side, moaning again at the painful relief. I expected that my vacuum cleaner would disappear inside the dent that had to be in the floor, created by my tailbone. 

Walking a bit crookedly to my desk, she said a little haltingly, but in a satisfied tone, "I don't know about this place, I don't like fucking on this floor, especially thinking it might give way."

I didn't care about that at the moment, only watched her as she picked up her purse from beside my computer, threw my cards inside and dug around before producing another and tossing it on the desk.

"It's a bank account with the PIN taped to the back. Memorize the PIN and sign the card. Two thousand dollars will drop into that account on the first of every month, make it last. If you need more for something, come see me and I might let you have it. A courier will show up for your cash tomorrow at two o'clock, so be back from the bank in time and make sure they give you a proper envelope for the money when you're there."

I found this mind boggling. Why in the deepest, most frustratingly senseless pits of hell would she take my money and give me hers?

I nodded as she looked at me, my erection still as strong as ever. 

"Well, I'm done with you and your body for today, boy." Dagmar said as she walked to the door, still a trifle unsteady on her heels and pulling her dress down further. "I'll be in touch."

I swear I heard her giggle deliriously on the back porch.

After spending some time on my other side, during which my hardon finally went away, I carefully made my way to the couch, ignoring my pants and underwear on the floor. By the time I'd gotten settled into the soft cushions, I'd decided that my pelvis and lower spine probably weren't crushed or structurally compromised and, after about a half hour lying there, I was able to get up and pull my jeans back on.

I stood there in the middle of the floor, wondering what to do with myself after all that. I'd just decided to pack it all in and go to bed when-

"Poink!"

It was my computer. Somebody'd sent me an email, probably Gordo from Maryland, trying to tempt me with that fiberglass front clip again. I sat down carefully against my desire to collapse in the office chair in front of my monitor and opened the email.

David,

Hi, bro! It's your big sister Bridgette! It's been ages! Did you not have a computer for a while? We were worried about what happened to you. Why didn't you write? Anyway, I was so happy to hear from Dagmar! Congrats! Her email was so nice, you're such a lucky guy! Only wish I could have been there for the wedding. (grrr) Tell her I said thanks for her email address and that I'll respond in person soon and that I just can't wait for this Christmas! I'm going to email Lorraine, Mom and Dad as soon as I send this. They'll be so happy, all of us together for the holidays like before, and we get to meet your new wife! EEEEEEEEEK! 

Well, it was a good thing I was seated at the time.

"Oh my fuck." I said aloud in a daze. "Oh,... my,... fuck."

I'd kept my older sister's email in the program address book in case of emergency and Dagmar found it. I closed my eyes, hoping it was all some kind of mistake on my sanity's part but, when I opened them again, the email was still there. I sat there in shock at the thought of reconnecting with my family, of having to listen to Lorraine, the brainless ex cheerleader and the sound of my Fathers voice,... 

After a minute, I gathered the nerve to look at the 'Sent Items' file.

Bridgette,

Hello, my name is Dagmar Alejandro. You don't know me, but I'm hoping that will change soon. I must admit that this email is a little awkward for me, owing to the fact that you and your brother, David, haven't been in contact with one another for a while. I want to assure you that everything is alright with him and that, in fact, he and I were married on June 23 of this year. David never did speak much of family and friends and I've only recently gotten him to open up a little about some things. If you know him as well as I've come to, you'll probably understand when I say that he does seem to display some xenophobic tendencies at times, and I'm sure it's nothing personal on his part. Anyway, I insisted on contacting you, as I would dearly love to get to know you and the rest of David's family. If it isn't too soon, and if it isn't an imposition in any way, I'd hoped that he and I could visit this Christmas. As you see, I've attached my email address, so please feel free to contact me in personal reply if you wish. Again, Bridgette, I offer my sincere apologies if this communication upsets you in any way and please know that, if I'd had my way at the time, things would have gone differently where our wedding was concerned. Hoping you're enjoying a great day.




Changes Ch. 03



Why, oh, why would she ever do this? Of all the things she could have done, I tried to think of how she could do any worse and couldn't come up with any realistic answer. (realistic? have you been paying attention, boy?) 

I turned the computer off, rose from the chair and went outside to shut the garage down in a stupor. I came back in, laughing humourlessly at my inability to believe Dagmar couldn't do any worse, locked the doors and took a shower. I then collapsed in my bed, trying not to think of a Christmas family reunion with Dagmar Alejandro as my wife. Mom would probably drag us to Midnight Mass and the pot-luck suppers at church while Bridgette went on and on about her stupid, stinking life with Ken, her husband- Oh, God help me!

I finally did fall asleep, making it all go away for a while.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

During the next week, I made sure to never be quite sober, or completely drunk either, although I was a lot more concerned about being sober. I doubled my cigarette intake and spent most of my time out in the shop, having finished with the Monza and its beautiful new coat of black paint, trying to think of normal things. I'd started a new project, pretending life was what it always was and didn't include some recent and alarming components, such as Dagmar and my impending visit home for Christmas. But, of course, my thoughts would sooner or later turn to that anyway as I subconsciously stressed about a surprise call from Mistress.

Keeping my mind off Dagmar turned out to be a useless exercise in futility and, furthermore, it wasn't like me to not deal, even when the best answer turned out to be another one way trip down the highway. Hey, the best way to deal with your problems is to run away from them. So, as I carefully modified a small, high pressure oxygen bottle, I went over everything in my mind, mostly concentrating on Dagmar and the things she'd said.

Basically, this woman noticed me notice her. She accurately assessed my attraction to her and became, in turn, interested in me, possibly on account of that, or because there was something about me she found attractive from the outset and would have anyway. No, it was because of my interest in her. As attractive as she was, at work she was something different and most men would be more afraid of, or personally threatened by her, and she would have leapt at any half decent looking male that noticed her in the way I did, especially one who looked down in submission.

So then she becomes interested, then distracted, then,... enamored? Obsessed? Is there even a difference? I decided on 'obsessed'. She'd have to be to take so personally my snubbing of her, and I actually did see some hurt in her eyes when she was relating her account of those days and my attitude. She'd definitely have to be obsessed in order to wait for an opportunity to entrap me like she did, especially in the way she did. 

This meant that she had feelings for me, as I did for her, but only if obsession counted as legitimate feelings. One thing I knew about obsessed people was that they could be dangerous and, once again, I figured her method of entrapping me was a pretty good indicator of that particular theory.

One thing was certain: She had money and lots of it. I could only guess that she was one of those rich people who preferred to fill their time constructively and, for her, that could mean surrounding herself with possible victims for her amusement at a place like a call center.

To sum up, I was dealing with a rich and powerful, lonely, horny, totally unpredictable, obsessive and possibly dangerous beauty who would go to any lengths to get what she wanted, and probably to keep it, too. And she cared about me.

As for myself, the only thing that kept me from falling for her completely was how she'd entrapped me and the screwball stunts she pulled, like contacting Bridgette. I worried at how easy it was for me to forget about these things when in her presence and wondered how I could bring that under control without tipping her off. I wondered if I really even wanted away from her, or did I just want,... what? A different arrangement with her? 

How far had my undeniable and seemingly growing feelings for her gone? It was true what she'd said, that I'd never met any woman like her and that no other could ever possibly compare to her and how she made me feel about her. But what did she want?

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

Her cell phone rang just after six on Friday evening. I put the hardened steel center punch I was about to strike with a hammer down on the bench, forgetting all about the difficulties involved in drilling pipe as my respiration increased and my gut tightened. It was a mixture of excitement at getting to see her again and the dread of the inevitable disasters that always went with getting to see her again.

"Hello?" I answered.

There was a pause before, "Have you given this number out to anyone?", Dagmar asked.

"No."

"So it could only have been me calling, correct?"

"Ummm,... yes."

"Well, stop and think about that."

About fifteen seconds went by while I tried to think of whatever it was she wanted this time, drawing a blank.

"I asked you a question, boy!"

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I just don't- I mean, I can't,... I'm trying to think, Mistress." I managed, startled by her demand.

"Well, stop it, you're embarrassing us both! I'll just spell it out for you, since I obviously have to! How-"

"I'm sorry, Mistress." I quickly offered.

"Would you shut up until I can explain it to you!? God almighty! Now, how would you properly greet me if I walked through your front door and was standing right in front of you?"

"I would say- Oh!", I suddenly exclaimed, getting her point and silently cursing myself for being too psyched out to get it sooner. "I should have answered, 'Hello, Mistress'. Sorry, you're right. Just wasn't thinking."

"Yes, I've noticed that little 'off-and-on' condition with you. Look, that's not why I called. I need you for a little something tonight, so be at my door at nine PM sharp. Wear the black dress pants and shoes, white button up shirt- don't roll up the sleeves and no tie. You got all that?"

"I got it."

"One more thing: When I say nine sharp, I mean Rolex time, boy. It's synchronized with mine, so wear it."

"Right.", I said, sighing inwardly, disliking the pretentious deadweight that was more like a bracelet than a watch.

"Hurry along, now." she said before hanging up, just as I was about to ask her what was going on.

I folded the phone and slipped it back in my pocket. Taking a sip from the bottle on the workbench, I leaned against it and lit a cigarette. By my own $39.99 watch, I figured it was better to get more or less right on cleanup and a meal without wasting time, just in case. It wouldn't do to be late.

I tarried for ten minutes anyway, smoking the cigarette and thinking of how Dagmar's demeanor on the phone seemed to be the same as in her office that day, when she first began kicking my life apart. It didn't necessarily mean anything, what with her mood swings, but it just didn't seem to bode well.



Changes Ch. 03



Author's Notes:

(1) I have been chastised by Personal Message for degrading my cross dressing characters. I do not. They need humiliation and domination for reasons that I understand and have explained in many other stories. Believe me, all characters in my stories live happily ever after.

(2) Much of this story is fictional; some is not;

(3) I have a fascination for the mechanisms humans use to normalize their fantasies, how they become addicted to the desire for it to be real, how it seems to diminish them while at the same time setting them free. There are so many stories, so little time.

*****

Saturday was a day for headaches and pills for me. Sarah, however, arose at 9:00, got herself ready and left to go shopping by 11:00. Before she left, she whispered softly in my ringing ear, "Monday, and NOT before Monday."

I understood what she meant, no dressing up, so I waited. By 3:00 my headache had dissipated and the room sounded less like the inside of thumping bass drum, and more like the reality of the living room, where I sat with my fifth cup of coffee. At 3:30 I heard the hum of the garage door opener, so I got up to greet her in the mudroom leading to the garage. Before I could open the door to the garage, I heard something bump on the door, and then Sarah entered with several shopping bags full of clothes.

"Hi honey," she said, smiling broadly. She loved to shop. "More in the trunk. Could you bring them in please?"

After a few minutes our bed was covered with the bags, and I looked at the volume of them, overwhelmed and excited. Being a closeted crossdresser, my wardrobe was limited to what I could buy discreetly on the Internet, or in stores in another part of town where people were unlikely to know me. "Jesus" I said, "Are these, you know, are these all for..."

"For you?" she laughed, "Hell no!"

I was disappointed. "Oh," I said.

"This bag is mine. I bought a pair of boots that you might like." I smiled and turned a little red as I observed them: knee-high form-fitting leather stilettos. I glanced at her as if to say, "What do you mean?"

"Just sayin'," she said mysteriously, "Now let's get started. You have a lot to try on."

She told me to get undressed and to first put on my girdle to hide my penis while trying everything else on. Whether it was my hangover or not, I don't know, but something had changed between us; there was an aura about her that I couldn't just ignore, and that I couldn't quite understand. She would tell me to do something, and I could tell that to not do it would require a fight. Today it just wasn't worth it; the numbness in my head was soft and fragile, the headache just out there, ready to come back in like a bank of fog outside the harbor.

By supper time I had tried all the bras, girdles, skirts, blouses, dresses, tights and pantyhose to her satisfaction. There was even an all-in-one corselet that compressed my body from the top of my knees to the top of my "breasts". Colors seemed to be chosen based on the degree of femininity, many things in white, pink, or hot pink, with an abundance of satin and lace. 

Sarah stood back and admired every piece and at the end she said, "I knew they'd be perfect. Pinks and whites for you. I'm thinking black for me. I learn fast. Hope you do too."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Sort of excited myself I guess. By the way, I went through your drawers, got rid of your underwear, and packed away some of the other stuff to make room for your panties, girdles, bras, and stockings and pantyhose. Hang the dresses and blouses up in your closet. I'll pick your outfit for Monday before I leave for work in the morning." She was simply uttering orders, although her voice was soft and kind, and she had a subtle smile on her face.

"Sarah?" I said, "Sarah, are you moving too fast? You don't need to do this, you know, all this for me. I mean, are you sure about this? I don't know about..."

She put her hand up and interrupted me, "Steve, to try something, you need to go all the way, or you haven't really tried, have you? This isn't all of it you know; I ordered some padded girdles to round out your hips and ass. They'll be here in a week, I'm told. Even with those, I suspect you'll need more shaping, but we'll try the easy route first. If it's not to my liking, then there's silicone padding wrap we can order, and if that doesn't work, I'm afraid you're going to have to swallow your pride and come to a corsetiere to get measured for a corset or two. Remember what I said; I don't want you to look like a man in drag; you have to look feminine while you're dressed up. I'm not really fond of the drag queen thing, guys six foot five and shoulders 3 feet wide in Marilyn Munroe dresses and wild makeup. And honey, contrary to what you might believe right now, this is NOT going to be all about you. I've already decided that. It's about us; it's about me, and I'm getting an inkling of what I want from this."

I was feeling both extremely aroused and uneasy with all of this. To relieve my tension, I said with a laugh, "Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?"

She just winked and left the room...probably to get Sarah, I thought with a chuckle. But my stomach was churning with uncertainty mixed with erotic anticipation.

I remember that I didn't sleep much on Sunday night, as my life was about to change in ways I had not ever dared to imagine. But I was not creating the changes; I was simply the reason for them, and I felt a bit out of control, out of my element, and I sensed there would be more, much more, than what I had been told thus far. I felt at a disadvantage; she was feeding me things, her things, her agenda, and I simply followed, enslaved by my fetish.

Conversation was awkward at the breakfast table. I wasn't hungry, so I drank coffee. Sarah read the news on her I-phone and I read the newspaper. At the door to the garage after I kissed her goodbye for the day, she smiled warmly and sincerely and said, "Your outfit to wear today is on the bed. It's not really meant for housework, but that's all you've got for now. Just enjoy it until your work outfits arrive in a couple of weeks. There's a bunch of clothes to wash, some to iron. The recipe for the stroganoff is on the counter; the meat is in the fridge. You might as well spend the day dressed up. I know you will anyway. It's okay I guess. I don't know; I'm new at this too."

She glanced at my red and apprehensive face.

"Look, Steve, honey...you know me; I like to test the depth of the water with both feet. We were drowning the way we were anyway. Get used to it. Whether or not it's fun for both of us, time will tell," she said, kissing me on the cheek and walking through the door to the garage. Seconds later, she poked her head around the door and added, "Shave your legs and underarms this morning too. You might as well jump in with both feet too." The door closed and she was gone, leaving me with eyes as wide as saucers, and butterflies in my stomach.

As soon as the garage door opener stopped, I walked into the bedroom in a dream state. It was like she said, but she had also found my stash and added my wig, high heels, and silicone breast inserts to the neatly laid out clothes that I was to wear. My heart was beating wildly as I started my new life by showering and shaving my legs and underarms. The pink panties and the white long-leg panty-girdle slipped up my hairless legs, and I quickly followed them with the taupe Lycra pantyhose. The lower half of my body felt as though it was encased and hugged by a second skin, tight, oh so tight and firm. Even today, I shudder with erotic delight when I dress like this. 

Next, I put on a new bra and fastened it with my unusually adept male fingers behind my back. It was also white, but with a hot pink lace accent at the top of the cups. When I dropped the heavy silicone inserts in, I noticed that the support was different from my own well used bra. The weight transferred directly to the elastic straps at my shoulders, and when I moved, the bounce was much more enhanced due to the flexibility of the straps. I paced back and forth a little bit and they bounced and swayed. It felt foreign and odd...like I was a woman.

Sarah had studied my fetishes well. She had chosen a tight-fitting stretchy pink top for me to put on. As I did on Saturday when I first tried it, I marveled at how anything so small could be worn at all, but I struggled into it, pulling the long sleeves down and pulling them into place at my wrists where the tightness snapped against my skin like elastic bands. The skirt was contrasting black and also extremely tight, a sort of pencil skirt style, long, with the hem just below the knees and it had a slight hobbling effect when I walked, causing me to be aware of its presence at all times. I sat down to test the feeling in that position and found that my knees were pressed tightly together.

I put my wig and shoes on and then I noticed the jewelry: gold wrist bangles and clip-on ear rings with matching, but smaller, loops. Next I explored the cosmetic bag which was equipped with everything I needed: foundation, highlighting, mascara, eye shadow and liner, as well as three shades of lipstick with lip liner. But there was something extra, a small bottle of perfume with a note attached which read: a drop on each wrist and one above your breasts. She was a detail type of person.

I set it down and stared briefly into space. How was it possible that my wife was doing this for me, I wondered? It just didn't make sense. Was there something about this that I didn't know?

Looking back, the short answer to that question was "yes". And I see now that clearly, everything she demanded or asked for was something that she herself wanted to test, some nuance that stirred something within herself. It had nothing really to do with me; I was merely the vessel which carried it.

By 8:45, my makeup was done, my wig brushed out and adjusted, and I put the earrings on as well as the wrist bangles. I walked to the full length mirror in the bedroom and was fairly pleased with the results except for one thing. My figure was clearly boyish. Sarah was not going to be pleased about that.

It is interesting to note that even at those early stages I worried about pleasing Sarah. I think that was where it began, really from the very start. This is good for me I think, writing this down, so I can understand how all this unfolded, the awakening of new fantasies and nurturing of old ones deeply buried and hidden.

Anyway, I decided that I would start washing the clothes right away. My promise was as good as gold. Plus I sensed Sarah would be displeased if I did not honor it. And if I didn't honor the deal, I'd be back sneaking around, wearing these clothes behind her back, in effect, cheating on her, and that would be disastrous for our marriage. There I go again. Weird feelings here, very weird.

So, I spent the early part of the day washing and drying and folding the clothes, with some needing ironing, boring work really, and there were many moments when I thought I had made a deal with the devil here, but I was compelled to carry on. I still feel the same way; I hate washing clothes and housework in general. And here I was doing it dressed to the nines. It wasn't long before I realized working while dressed like this was really stupid, but I put up with it for that first day and for the ten days until my working clothes arrived. Now, months later, I wear her chosen work clothes, and I look back with fondness at the early outfits. Funny how that goes.

Stroganoff was an easy recipe. I had made it before a few years ago, but since Sarah and I had been married, I had expected her to do the cooking, so I faded away from kitchen duties and into my man-cave to watch sports. Again, I shake my head at my chauvinistic attitudes back then. All these bridges I've crossed, all of them burnt behind me, incredibly with few regrets, only with a marvel at how I've changed, and the peculiar sense of serenity I have gained now. But that part of my story comes later; I get ahead of myself.

By 5:00, there were neat piles of folded clothing on the bed, and the house smelled like a simmering batch of stroganoff. I was pleased, but I started to get nervous. Sarah would arrive home soon and see me dressed like this. What was this going to be like? Would it be awkward? Would she change her mind? Would she laugh and change her mind about the whole thing?

I got two wine glasses out and poured my own with a nice Shiraz, taking a sip and casually noting my lipstick on the rim of the glass. I looked at my fingers and felt disgusted with them; the nails were short and appeared stubby and wide, male. I wondered if I dared paint them. I wanted to, but then I would be limited to staying inside the house at all times unless I removed the polish before putting my male clothes on to go out in public. Or, I could simply go out dressed as a woman. There I go again, getting ahead of myself.

5:45 and Sarah would be home any time now. I shuddered with nervous tension, my teeth actually chattering. Should I meet her at the door with a glass of wine for her, I wondered? Again, why had it suddenly become so important for me to please her? After all we had been married for six years. We knew each other. Or did we then? Maybe not. Well, I should say that maybe she knew me, but I sure as hell didn't know her; she was someone new. Exciting and new.

I fixed my lipstick and checked for flaws in my makeup. I poured her a glass of Shiraz and waited at the entrance to the mud room by the door to the garage, like a puppy with slippers I suppose.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the garage door. Time stood still and so did I. The stress built until I couldn't stand it anymore. I turned to retreat to the bedroom just when I heard the squeak of the door. I looked around and saw her, a face I had seen a thousand times before in many situations, but never had I seen this look. Her eyes locked on mine briefly before they ran like quicksilver all over me, coming back once more to my eyes. I suppose it was pupil dilation in the scientific sense, I don't know, but the result was a knowing warmth and a rush of passion that passed between us. It was odd, and I will never forget that moment when she smiled and said softly and with humor, "Honey, I'm home."

She took her glass of wine and sipped while examining me. "Wow!" she said, "Turn around baby. Unreal. Good job on the makeup. But your figure clearly needs the padding or a corset, or probably both."

"Umm, thanks," I said awkwardly, "Supper will be ready in about half an hour, once I make the herb bread." I took a sip of my own wine while both of us were silent, absorbing the extremely weird moment. "I was nervous," I said.

"So was I," Sarah said, "It's okay though. I don't know what it is when I see you like this. It makes me feel weird. It's like excitement I guess, something unknown. No, it's more than excitement; it's this." And she placed her wine glass down and leaned forward to kiss me tentatively on the lips. Our lipsticks were both wet and our lips soft. The touch was gentle at first, neither of us having the courage or the confidence to make it the way we wanted it. We pulled away. Her hands remained on my waist, mine on her shoulders while we stared at each other.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

Then we engaged the way we should have from the start, our lips hungrily pushing against each other's, and our bodies merging in a way that we had never done before. It was the breasts; they met and were compressed, and her hands pulled up my skirt to feel my buttocks encased in Lycra and satin. I lunged forward so that my hidden penis tried to thrust against her hips while I ran my fingers through her hair.

Our breath got instantly irregular, but then she abruptly pushed me away. "Whoa!" she sighed, "Too much, too fast. I, uh, I don't feel, uh, let's just slow this down."

I immediately interpreted this badly and I said, "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to push this. Jeez, shit! I must look so freaking weird. I am weird. I'm sorry. Maybe we can't do this. I dunno...maybe I should change."

This was the real changing point. She looked at me with puzzlement and said, "What? You feel weird? How about me? I just kissed a woman! I wanted to before, but I never did. I'm the one who should feel weird, not you! And I do feel weird. You look, umm, you look freakishly good, and I find that really disturbing. What the hell does that make me?" She was shaking slightly.

"Oh my God honey, I wasn't even thinking about you. I should have been. Look, too fast, let's go sit down and just talk about our day as if we're, well, as if we're a married couple. Okay, so we're lesbians, so what?"

She smiled and it was over. The tension was gone. She took her coat off, hung it up and we both walked to the kitchen island, our high heels clicking on the slate floor. I went first, and I felt her hand on my bum, brushing some imaginary lint away. It felt strange to be touched like that, the tight layers encasing me, absorbing the sensation and delivering it to my skin in a whole new way, somehow dampened and eroticised.

With supper, we drank the entire bottle of Shiraz, but it only made us relaxed, not drunk. We talked; we touched; we smiled; we sighed and leaned back in peace. It's hard to explain how we felt at that time; it was like we had been friends before, and happy, but a new threshold had been crossed and a new level of intimacy had been achieved.

I still had male aggression then. I said, "I want to make love to you. Now. Will you, umm, with me? With me like this?"

She giggled and said, "No. I want to be the man. I want to make love to you. You want me to take over, don't you?"

I sat on the stool at the island and she approached me, putting her arm around me. "Don't you baby?" she asked again in a throaty whisper.

Now I lost it, lost all control, in so many ways. "Yes, let's..."

She put her finger over her lips to hush me and whispered, "I want to cum first; you eat me up baby. Make love to me with your mouth. When I'm cumming I want you to enter me then. Will you do that?"

She had always loved my cunnilingus skills, and I was very good at it, but she had never asked for it first; I had always simply done it as foreplay. Actually when I think back, she wasn't asking this time either; she was telling.

Blouses and skirts flew as we rushed to the bedroom, but it stopped there even though I reached behind to undo my bra. She pulled my hand away and said with excitement, "As women. Let's do it as women. Now." And she laid herself down spreading her legs and pulling my head in toward her. I could hardly breathe; I was so excited. She didn't wait for me to pull my girdle down, wanting my tongue where her legs met, a moist and beautiful place I had seen and loved many times before. But this time I wasn't ready. When she came, I was not going to be ready to penetrate, and that bothered me. I knew I'd want to plunge into her when she was still moaning, but her hands pulled my head inexorably into her until I was absorbed in her passion.

I stroked and tickled, gentle, then hard, probing and distant, fingers, tongue, nose, lightly, punishingly gentle. I listened for cues, the breaths, the moans, pulled away, pushed in, caressed the other place, the forbidden place, noted her thrusts and repeated, withholding, then giving until she was screaming with need and want. Finally, two fingers, gently at first, then harder, deeper, gentle flicks of my tongue until she started. It seemed like she was about to weep at first, but she rose up like a crescendo, a gasp-type moan that couldn't be duplicated outside of pure lust. Then her hips flew up against me crushing my mouth against her clitoris in swell after swell of gasps and moans.




Changes Ch. 03



This died away slowly but I knew she wasn't done. I brought her back with extreme care and gentleness until she demanded roughness again. This time she exploded with a groan that came from some deep place inside her chest or abdomen. The muscles tensed and shuddered and then she fell back on the bed with a satisfied moan, pulling my head to her abdomen and pressing it there. Keeping it there. Firmly.

Jesus I wanted her at that moment, but she made me wait. "Sarah?" I said, "Now. I want you now." I almost said please, but I thought that would sound silly and needy. But I was needy. These days I say please all the time and now it's just part of our life together, not silly. Just necessary.

After some more silence Sarah said, "Get up and stand where I can see all of you."

"What? Why?"

"I want to see you. Just to see if..." She didn't finish.

"Jesus Sarah!" I stood up and she got on her elbows, taking me in, smiling, and making me wait.

"Slip your girdle and panties down but don't take them off," she said throatily.

I followed her instructions to a tee. "You like to be told what to do, don't you baby?" she said, teasing.

"Sarah!" Who was this woman?

"Don't you baby?"

"Okay, yes, okay? Come on!"

"Good. That's better. Don't you feel better too? Now lie down on your back."

She never did this. And I had never been on the bottom for any woman. But I did as she said, while she slid to the side and grasped my penis in her hands. Her left leg arced over my legs which were essentially in bondage with the girdle and panties at my shins. My penis tip touched her vaginal lips and I gasped with need, but she simply used my tip to massage her clitoris some more until she was breathless again.

"You want me Stephanie?" she said, smiling down on me.

"Oh God yes, please!" I said. That was the first time I said "please" for sex. It would not be the last. Another beginning. Another bridge.

As she lowered herself on me I felt the enclosure, the warmth and liquid of her. Her head arched backward and I lunged upward until we were locked together for a brief moment of luxurious lust, in motionless ecstasy. That feeling...that first feeling of penetration...

Then another strange thing happened. She pushed me down with her weight so I couldn't move and grasped my "breasts", still with her head back in fantasy, with her eyes closed. She gasped and I felt her vagina contract in an endless rhythm. No friction was needed. I came as well, just from the strength of her pulses, and we held each other in that pelvic grip, gasping and moaning, lost in love.

Finally, she collapsed on top of me and laid her head on my left breast while she played with the other one absently, pushing on it and watching it spring back like real skin. As we each gained our composure and re-claimed our at-rest breathing rate, she whispered, "Fantastic. Just fantastic. And you like to be dominated."

I didn't answer. After orgasm, fantasies blow away like mist in the morning. I was embarrassed. When I finally decided to repudiate her remark, it was too late; she was asleep. She seemed to have a way of doing that now and her weight on my breast quieted me, subdued me so that I slept too. 

Domination. It was true. I learned it then. I know it now. I need it now.



Changes Ch. 03



"Aggghhh! Oh God! I can't…It hurts...no...no…don't stop!! Do it. Use me. Take me." I babbled semi-incoherently. I moaned and screeched as the moment of maximum pressure came and went. 

I started to orgasm as I realized she had her hand in me up to her wrist. The picture of me laying there with my legs apart, the black leather bands holding me in place, the dark girl with her hand stuffed deep into my cheating, naughty, cunt sent me over the edge. I entered into a state of orgasm after orgasm as she moved her fist inside me. I moaned and groaned and came and came. I felt sweat pouring off of my body. I felt the leather straps holding me tight restricting my movement.

Then it happened. I realized I had an audience to my depravation. Someone was sitting in a chair about ten feet away from us watching me urge this girl to abuse my body. I saw the person lean forward into the cone of light in front of him.

James smiled and said, "Hello my little one."

I passed out.

Carmelita woke me the next morning. I sat up and looked around. The room was gorgeous. The furniture was all antique dark wood, the wallpaper was a pretty floral design. The light coming through the shears was bright and pretty. 

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a silk and lace nightgown fit for a princess. My skin felt clean and smooth. Someone had bathed my while I was out.

Carmelita handed me a parchment envelope with my name on it.

Kim, 

Good morning my little one. I trust you slept well. 

Allow Carmelita to tend to your needs this morning. We will have lunch together at one. If things go well there, I have quite an afternoon and evening planned for you. 

James

She led me to the veranda where I had a light breakfast of fruits and rolls in the sun. Then she led me to another room and placed me on a massage table. For the next hour she oiled and worked my muscles until I was a relaxed and limp as a wet noodle. Then she opened a tin of cream and gently spread it on my tender pussy lips and into my ever so sore canal. Some how, she did this in a totally non-sexual fashion that felt good without being stimulating. The cream was warm and felt nice. I could feel the soreness ebbing even before she finished applying it to me. 

The next stop on my morning of decadence was a hot tub. It was warm without being too hot. The jets continued the massage that Carmelita started. I floated in the water and thought of nothing at all.

Finally, I was led to another wonder shower, where I rinsed off the oils and sweat. I washed my hair and made sure I hadn't started growing any whiskers since my shave last night. Carmelita dried me off, fixed my hair, and expertly applied makeup. She even did my nails for me.

My clothes were on the bed when we came back into the room. A black bra and garter set with silk stockings, a short black silk and lace slip, and a very classy but sexy black dress were to be my clothes. The shoes were heeled and made my legs look so nice that I even turned myself on a little when I looked in the mirror. I was ready for lunch with Master James.



Changes Ch. 04



"Now, Keith, I'm going to take your gag off. In fact I'm going to take everyone' gag off. Remember, now that the collars are designed to correct bad behavior, so it really would be better if everyone kept their mouth shut, unless I ask you a direct question. Oh, and I do so insist that each answer be completely truthful, and end with either a Sir or Doctor." The gags were removed, and immediately Keith and Robert shouted out, which brought instantaneous electric shocks from the collars.

"Now, as I was about to ask; Keith, you see your lovely wife so well displayed here before you, and right up until I had to remind you to keep quiet, all three of you guys pricks were standing at attention. Now, tell me, when was the last time you got that ridiculously small, sorry excuse for a penis, up into your wife's wet hot pussy?"

"The damn Hell.." well that's all Keith got out before he was once again zapped. I could not see him, as his chair was staring at my prominently displayed ass and pussy, but I heard a gasp and the sound of his body slumping in his chair.

"Now, once more, Keith, I really don't have a lot of patience. When was the last time you ran that pathetic little underdeveloped penis up into your lovely wife's hot pussy?"

"The night before we got kidnapped,, dammit!" Z-A-P! once again his collar shocked.

"Now, please try to rephrase that response appropriately!"

"The night before we got kidnapped, Sir."

"See there, Keith, it's not so very hard to do things correctly! And doing things like you should will sometimes get you a reward. Now, since each of you will enter into your treatments this very evening, and since, dear Keith, this will be your very last opportunity to ever get that pathetic little thing you call a dick up into a woman's pussy again, I'm going to let you up so that you can come up and fuck your dear wife one last time! Oh how generous I am tonight!"

The assistants released him and brought him up behind me. Because of all the torment and ridicule, Keith was apparently no longer sprouting a hard-on because...

"Oh look, the little dickie isn't hard anymore. Well, let's see if we can fix it. Put him down on his knees, and let him lick up some of her juices that are flowing down her legs."

Sure enough, I quickly felt Keith's tongue and mouth licking and lapping at my exposed pussy. I don't know how I could be as excited as I was. Never would I have imagined being naked and allowing Keith to do such things in front of our children. But my body was denying my brains demand for respectability, and responding to my husband's tongue just as if we were alone in bed behind closed doors. Keith had always been a very accomplished pussy licker, and if truth be told, I could actually have a real orgasm from his oral ministrations. In our 22 years of marriage I quite frankly had never achieved a real, true orgasm from being fucked by him. His dick was small, and I never got the satisfaction I knew I needed from it. I never complained though. I had accumulated a rather diverse collection of large plastic phalluses' and dildoes to help me out over the years. I never let him know.

Too soon, however, his oral attentions to my dripping honey pot came to an end, and I soon felt his woefully small but now hard cock entering my wet gaping pussy. He began to rock himself into me, pressing his cock as far as he could up into my open pussy. I guess his tongue had gotten me farther along than I had thought, because it felt good, very, very good. It felt better and better with each stroke. I really could not remember any time when his pushing his small cock up into my pussy felt so good. I don't know how he kept it in me, I was absolutely flowing with juices, literally running out my gaping love hole, and running down the insides of both legs. He had me moaning with lustful, randy feeling in no time at all. Now Keith had never lasted more than about three or four minutes when he pumped his dick up into me, but this time he was lasting longer than ever. I was panting my lust, trying my best to keep from screaming out to tell him to ram into me harder. I knew I was not supposed to talk, and damn was it hard. I needed to tell him to fuck me, H-A-R-D. I needed a bigger, harder longer, thicker rod of man meat to take me and make me cum. Then I felt him cum. He shot about three spurts up into me and that was all. I damn near cried. I needed a real fuck, and I needed it bad now. Tears of need were rolling down my cheeks. Damn him and his little prick! Damn! Here I was, clamped down, not even able to reach back and finish myself off with my hand and fingers! Now what was I going to do? All thoughts of what kind of display I was giving my own children were long gone. I needed MORE!

Dr. Campbell released the pressure on my aching nipples and removed the tubes that had sucked them all this time. But then he attached the larger full breast cups and turned the suction on, drawing the entire breast out and down. The feeling was entirely different, yet incredibly arousing. My breasts are not large, 36B, but this device made it feel as if someone had taken the entire breast into their mouth and was suckling the entire thing, drawing not just nipple but the entire breast out away from my chest further and further. It felt very painfully erotic. Hard to describe. There was a type of pain there, but it was translating itself into pulses and throbs of need, and rushing straight to my clit and pussy. I definitely needed a lot more pussy attention than what I had just gotten. 

They had apparently taken Keith away and put him back into his chair. Dr. Campbell was now right in front of me, looking into my face.

"Why whatever could be wrong Alice? Your dear husband just got finished giving you his manly, husbandly male affections, and you're panting like you haven't had a man in a year! One of the assistants had moved up behind him, but my field of vision was blocked by the doctor's body.

I didn't know that another of the assistants had moved up behind me, and in fact had brought out his 10" long, 5" thick cock. All I could see was the white lab coat of Dr. Campbell. 

"Well, Alice, tell me, what do you want?" And with that he took a single step to the side, exposing, right in front of my eyes the exposed 9" penis belonging to one of the assistants. Without thinking I immediately let my tongue slip out and licked my lips, and I growled "Y-E-S!" as my mouth watered staring at the hard thick cock staring me in the face.

No sooner had the word left my moth than I felt one cock ram into my dripping pussy with such force that it rocked my whole body forward slightly. My mouth opened to gasp in utter surprise, which gave the assistant in front of me the motive to move his big cock up and into my open mouth. Damn it felt good. I hadn't had this much real man meat in me EVER. I lost all semblance of modesty or decorum, forgetting completely about my children and my husband there watching. All I was thinking about was cock, and how wonderful my wet wide stretched and now completely and marvelously full pussy felt. I had done my fair share of cock sucking in high school years ago, but since then Keith's tiny dick was the only one I had had in my mouth, and I was out of practice. I began choking before I remembered to check my gag reflex and let that monster down my throat. I was in cum slut heaven. I no longer cared; all I wanted was hard forceful raw sex.

Somewhere through the fog of such sexual lust, I heard Dr. Campbell order both my daughters as well as my husband and son to keep their eyes open and watch their mother and wife take cock like the whore I was about to become. He told them that the injections I had received brought about a highly increased desire for sex, increased sexual reactions and feelings and greatly increased sensations. In short, the drugs were causing my slutty behavior, but that with continued treatments, I would be this horny and act like this all the time.

The two assistants kept pounding their massive cocks into me, and I was enjoying every hard thrust they gave me. The one fucking my face had taken his hands and placed them on the sides of my head, grabbing fistfuls of my shoulder length brown hair. He was pistoning his cock into my mouth and down my open and accepting throat in perfect tempo with the one brutalizing my sopping wet pussy. That monster was ramming into me harder and deeper than I had ever been filled and quite frankly, I loved every single bone pounding plunge. It hurt like hell when he had so suddenly simply thrust that monster into me with no warning. It felt as if he had ripped me in two. The first several thrusts hurt as badly as birth pains, but then the pain turned pleasurable and with each new body slamming thrust, wave after wave of tingles shot throughout my entire body. His ball sac hit with each thrust in such a way that it moved against my swollen clit and sent lightning bolts of pleasure from my curled toes all the way up to my brain, which was so overloaded with the sensations that nothing else in all the universe made a damn bit of sense right then. I was headed straight for the biggest, wildest orgasm of my entire life, and nothing was going to keep me from it.

Suddenly the cock ramming down my throat stopped and began jerking, shooting jet after jet of cum down my throat. Then the cock pounding my swollen pussy began firing its load of spunk deep into my gushing pussy, and I exploded. The intensity of that orgasm just simply cannot be described or explained. Unless you have had an orgasm like it, you just can't begin to comprehend what it felt like. I slumped in my bindings, and drifted off into nirvana. I don't know how long the blissful euphoric numbness lasted. The next thing I knew, Keith had been brought back, and was being made to clean up the mess that was literally pouring out of my gaping pussy. My vaginal muscles were still spasaming expelling glob after glob of that bulls spunk, now mixed with my own juices and not a small amount of blood from the brutalizing my vagina had endured. I was sore for several days from that ordeal, but damn it was the best fucking I had ever had up to that point in my life.

After I recovered a little I was released from the device and returned to my chair. It was only then that I noticed the tears running down Keith's face. The shame and humiliation flooded over me, and I also broke down into tears. I suddenly realized how shocking it must have been for Keith, as well as our children to see me not only being used like I had been, but to be so obviously enjoying it. I couldn't look them in the face. I had disgraced myself and insulted Keith too much. 

But the evening's activities were far from being over. That detestable device had been removed, but another device was being brought into place. This device was being lowered from the ceiling, and at first I couldn't begin to imagine what it was, or was to be used for. I didn't have long to wonder.

"Well, that was quite a demonstration Alice! Thank you for giving us such a good showing of how my 'Fuckem Suckem Milking Machine' is used. Now, I have a real good feeling that Alice's sex show left someone else in a very aroused state, didn't it April?"



Changes Ch. 04



"'I mean Rrrolex time.'" I mocked under my breath, rolling my 'R' with a sneer.

I was watching the face of the idiotic adornment, the knocker on Dagmar's door in my hand and raised. I brought it down on its striker precisely when the sweeping hand notched over the '12' at nine o'clock sharp, repeating a few times before standing back, my hands clasped behind me as I looked aimlessly down the hall with a smirk at my little personal stunt.

She opened the door, wearing the business version of the 'little black dress'. My smirk was wiped off my face entirely as I took in how it looked so good while being decent and properly business like at the same time. 

She walked into the hall, closing her door and looking at me with a smirk of her own, hair down and beautiful, gold earrings and necklace matching the double row of gold buttons running down to the hem from under those great tits.

"I thought you'd like this outfit."

She took my arm and we walked down the hall to the elevator.

"I want you obedient tonight, boy. You do what I tell you when I tell you, got that?"

"Yes.", I answered, remembering my earlier misgivings about this evening and glad for the leftover buzz from the whiskey.

"Just follow my lead and don't speak unless I ask you a question. Do well, and you'll be nicely rewarded for all of the little things you've done right here and there."

"Right.", I acknowledged nervously.

She didn't speak again until we were on the elevator car and going down.

"Also, I expect you to be attentive in case things get hairy. Nothing you can't handle, boy, don't fret."

"O-kaaay.", I said, fretting.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I- Yes, Mistress, I'll be on the ball."

"That's what I like to hear. Go on ahead and bring the car to the curb while I wait in the lobby. You will then come in and get me and take me to the car."

These things done, I was pulling out into the evening sun, headed North as instructed from my back seated passenger. 

"Uhhh,...", I stammered, "should I grab the tire iron or something?"

"God, no. I told you it won't be anything you can't handle. Anyway, I'll be there, so just do what a good dog would do if our host can't contain himself, but I really doubt it will come to that, so again, don't worry.", she explained tersely.

Having to be happy with that, I drove for blocks in the mindless, 'stop-and-go-nowhere' traffic of uptown Toronto for a while. I would glance at her in the rearview mirror, seeing a very officious, but beautiful female passenger. It was like being the driver for the female dictator of some little banana republic as she looked straight ahead, as though she could already see our destination and was in the process of drawing up a mental list of grievances. Finally, she directed me to the highway.

"Going a bit fast, aren't we?"

" ... Better?" I asked, dropping some speed and looking woefully at the Caddy up ahead that I was stalking.

"Yes."

" ... I uhh, I googled the term 'vanilla'."

"Oh, you did, did you? And pray tell, what did you find?"

I glanced in the mirror to find her looking at me now.

"A lot of stuff. A whole lotta stuff. Including a couple of videos I'd rather not even describe."

"I wish you hadn't done that. I should have modified your internet settings. In any case, what videos do you mean? Describe them."

(dammit, I just told her I'd rather not describe them!) 

"Well,... This guy with his bag,... tied to the floor and trying to stand up like this woman was telling him."

"And?"

"And, uhhh,... this woman,... She had a strap-on and she was,... You know."

"What?"

" ... "Fucking him with it.", I said exasperatedly.

"His mouth?"

"No!"

"What?"

"She was fucking his ass, there I said it! Look,... you're not gonna do any of that Dominatrix stuff to me, are you?"

"See, that's why I wish you hadn't done that. Listen up, boy: First of all, I am not a Dominatrix. Never call me that. A Dominatrix is some stupid tramp who collects ten dollars per hour to smack some broken moron's ass with a flogger. I am a Domina, if you must use some term. I am what those silly tarts can't even properly pretend to be. And no, I have no intentions of abusing you in those ways."

"That's a relief", I noted.

"As your proper Dominant, I am your owner and therefore responsible for you. Abusing my belongings, or those I'm responsible for, is not a wise application of my resources and women who do that as a matter of course to their male submissives are weak. They fear and resent men and must completely emasculate them in order to feel some false sense of power, to feel like a woman. They are not true Dominants and what good is a broken man to anyone, anyhow? What was your opinion of the male subs you saw going through these things?"

"I kept wondering how they'd see a man in the mirror the next morning." I answered.

Dagmar chuckled softly at this. "They were probably never men to begin with. Just some over sexed reject who wants to get off in a new and kinky way, or someone who has no will, no spirit, no,... true Humanity. They're no more a proper submissive than their so-called Dominants and both are equally pathetic. No, I don't need or want to emasculate you like that, I want your spirit intact, your mind on me, and your will under my control. Not only are you more useful to me in this way, but you're also a lot more fun to toy with."

"Is that why you call me a 'wilder'?"

"Exactly. a submissive core with learned Dominant traits. What could be better for me? Sometimes I wish I could have gotten hold of you when you started grade seven."

"Uhh,... What?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, I simply meant that it would have been nice to mould you for my later use. But, then you wouldn't be the fun you are now, would you? And you're still young enough to learn, in fact I think you've been learning,... somewhat well. A credit to my direction, although I do admit that I never expected this ah, sometimes familiar rapport between us."

"People like me; what can I say?" I quipped dryly, actually getting a laugh.

"People don't even see you."

I didn't answer to this insulting fact. It never bothered me as long as people weren't pointing it out like that.

"Kelly was quite popular." she noted. "Did you see all the little stuffed animals and offerings and people standing around crying out on the sidewalk?"

"Yes."

"Do you think anybody would have done those things had it been you that got killed there?"

"I suppose not. How about yourself?"

" ... No. Does it bother you?"

"No. I think I'd have bigger fish to fry at that point. I mean, I'd be dead,... right?"

Some moments went by before I heard that soft chuckle from the back seat. I suddenly felt her hand lightly patting the side of my neck twice before sliding seductively away.

"Good boy. See, that's your value to me, that is the wisdom in keeping your spirit intact. Why have we sped up again and why are we following that silver car?"

"Oops, sorry, Mistress." I said, slowing down.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"Umm, well I was just,... well it's a Caddy.", I laughed awkwardly.

"Take the next exit. So it's a Caddy, so what?"

"Well, it's a big sport sedan like this is, you know. Um, it's a market competitor."

"So?"

I sighed and just came out with it as I worked my way over and into the collector.

"I was just haunting him. This car will pulverize any Caddy and I just wanted to intimidate him. Sorry, force of habit."

"Hm. You need a haircut, get one. A nice short one, not buzzed, but nice and neat."

"Yes, Mistress." 

"Do you ever use turn signals? I'd rather not be stopped by the police."

"Sorry, Mistress."

The rest of the trip was spent listening to 'El Presidante' pontificate about the proper time to use turn signals, how soon they should be activated before a turn and deactivated afterward if necessary in every conceivable situation. Sometimes she'd interrupt herself with directions to the impressive home in an upscale Scarborough neighborhood.

I parked at the curb as directed and got out, striding around to the other side to let her out as well. We walked right up to the front door where I rang the bell as told, then stood waiting on the brick step with her in the gathering darkness until the door opened. 

A soft looking, slightly portly man in a black tux who might have been in his late forties stood in the threshold. He was one of those guys that guys like me just don't like on sight, a high feeling jackass who looked like a sports caster or some ex jock. He was a bit short and almost poured into the tux he was wearing, making it fit more like a leisure suit, and his dark, beady eyes seemed all alone beneath the buzzed, rapidly receding hairline. His nose was easily the most prominent feature that belied his personality, a beak like protrusion that seemed to gather information for all five senses as his face aimed it from one of us to the other.

"Hello, Bryan." Dagmar greeted politely, yet with an aloof quality befitting her dress.

He only looked back, obviously trying to place her with a wary, almost paranoid look in his eye, slowly shaking his head and saying, "I don't think we've met,..."

"We have. Dagmar Alejandro, one of your investors. I know everything."

With that, she walked right past him and inside, even brushing him aside with the back of her hand and forearm as she went. I couldn't believe it and neither could this 'Bryan' person, but I had to follow her. She told me to follow her lead, so what else could I do?

"Hey.", I greeted on my way by, shooting an uncomfortable nod.

I found myself in a large entry, just catching Dagmar's nice round ass going around a corner to the left. I caught up in time to see her settling it into a Queen Anne loveseat in a large, quite impressive sitting room. Across from her was a matching couch, between and at the end, two matching, wing backed chairs with a small, round table between them. She looked at me, then looked pointedly to the nearby chair before she spoke.

"Get me a cognac and sit down, Bryan. Let's talk about your future."

I crossed the ceramic tile floor and sat, looking at Bryan, who was standing just inside the room, staring at her. He was obviously scared, even worse, Dagmar's nerve in doing what she did really had him off guard, yet I just knew he'd say something like-

"What in hell is going on here!? Who do you think you are!?"

"I think I'm someone who has invested a tidy sum of money with you, along with many others, as it turns out."

"Yeah, I remember you now, so what!? That gives you the right to come into my home and order me around like it's yours!?"

"I'm glad you asked." she said, completely at ease. "It all started with Bernie Madoff and a few other notables in the news. Naturally, I remembered you and I got to wondering. So I hired a team of investigators, handpicked by yours truly, and after reviewing their findings,... Well, like I told you, I know everything. Now get me that drink and sit down."

This was getting interesting pretty quickly. Bryan's jaw sagged with each word she spoke after she mentioned Bernie Madoff and he now stood rooted to the spot, his mask of anger completely shattered. 

"Now, Bryan. Don't make me tell you a fourth time."

He somehow ripped his eyes from her long enough to stiffly make his way to a wet bar, glancing at her with wide eyes as he went. Once he served her the drink, he sat opposite her on the couch as she sipped.

"Mmm. Oh yes, this is very good. Yes, so not to belabor a point but, in case you've forgotten my substantial investment capital, I believe it was in the neighborhoo-"

"Bryan, who was at the door!?"

Bryan went a little pale as Dagmar raised an eyebrow, asking, "I take it that would be your lovely wife, Heather. Not one of your girlfriends? Does she know about them, by the way?"

That was it. The man just sort of crumbled inwardly as I watched to the sound of someone descending some nearby stairs. It was exactly what she did to me, except apparently he was really guilty.

"Oh,... Hello." said a tall, high heeled blonde, a shapely woman in her late thirties, I guessed. 

She was quite attractive in what one might call an unexpected way. Dressed in a very nice, shimmering red evening gown, hair up and bejeweled for the ball, she looked every bit the proper lady, or rich bitch if you prefer, and it seemed to fit on her too. But underneath it all, she had that look, the one that didn't have to rely on all the trimmings her lifestyle allowed. 

"I didn't realize we had,... company."

Bryan only stared at his wife, not knowing what to say. Like any good opportunist/salesperson, Dagmar piped up in his failure to speak.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Chalmers, please allow me to introduce myself as dear Bryan is, I fear, a little preoccupied at the moment. My name is Dagmar Alejandro. As I was just reminding your husband, I've invested close to a half million Dollars with him. Please, do sit with us, Heather. Bryan, get your wife a drink."

(Ho-ly shit!)

I couldn't help but love her for her nerve, despite the fact she'd done much the same thing to me as I watched this situation play out. 

Bryan got up and plodded to the wet bar again, not looking at anyone this time as Heather looked from Dagmar to Bryan, me, then back to Dagmar before sitting on the couch opposite her pleasantly smiling visitor. She looked uncertainly at the beautiful, dark skinned brunette with the striking green eyes, instinctively knowing that something was up. Then she looked at me again, nervously.

"This is an associate of mine." Dagmar commented. "He really has nothing to do with this on a business level, just a friend I decided to bring to work with me."

I gave her the same nod and almost apologetic, tight lipped smile I gave her husband and said, "Hi."

"I'm sorry if I've arrived at a bad time." Dagmar said sincerely. "You look like you were going out."

"Uhh, yes." Heather responded, smiling hesitantly. "The charity auction."

"Charity auction." Dagmar expressed, more as a question than a statement. "Isn't that so ironic?"

Heather opened her mouth, obviously about to ask why that should be so ironic, when she was interrupted by the return of her ashen faced husband. He handed her the drink and sat beside her with one of his own.

"Heather, I can see you're- you don't mind if I use your first name, do you? -I can see you're wondering why I'm here. Since it would be a little uncomfortable for Bryan if he were to fill you in, why don't I?"

My Mistress paused, taking a slow, thoughtful sip of her glass before putting it on the small table to her left, then beginning in a serious, yet congenial tone.

"Basically, Bryan took my money. He's a swindler. And I'm not the only one, oh no. In fact, the piddling monies I began to receive in return for my investments were actually the entire life savings of Myrtle and George Hargess, an elderly retired couple in Sault Ste Marie. You see, Bryan has been running his own little ponzi scheme for years and, hoo boy, has he been busy?"

Heather was dumbfounded. She looked at Bryan, lips slightly parted with a fearfully questioning expression.

"You didn't know?" Dagmar asked. "Honey, how do you think he got that luxury beach house in Florida? The pleasure craft? The Cessna? All the expensive cars and other toys?"

"Bryan,... is, is this true? Tell me she's lying." Heather asked in a breathless voice.

Bryan looked down between his knees and shook his head, no doubt seeing his future lying in ruins between his feet on the carpet.

"Oh my god. Bryan, look at me! Is this true?"

He looked up and to his right, but not into her eyes and croaked, "Yes, it- It's true."

"Oh my God, no."

"You really didn't know?" Dagmar pressed. "I mean, he's an investor, yes, but really, you must have suspected something, especially with the way the markets have been lately. This home all by itself should have made you think."

Heather was looking at her visitor again, shaking her head defensively, saying, "No,... I didn't,... I don't know anything about investments, or the market. I thought,... I thought,..."

"You thought you were rich. No, I'm rich, you two have only been using mine and other people's money to pretend you were."

"But,..."

"But you didn't know. You say that, and I tend to believe you. Bryan, did she know?"

"No.", he mumbled, looking at the carpet between his knees again.

"Hm. Well, if I have my doubts sitting here, imagine the doubts everyone else will have once this hits the news. Especially once they find out about the I.W.K. 'investment'. I wouldn't have thought a charity would have the money to invest, but I suppose a children's hospital is wise to take a long financial view,... Just not with you two. Oh, I know, Heather." Dagmar said, over-riding our Hostess's claimed plausible deniability before it could begin. "You didn't know, but I wouldn't expect anyone to listen to that. You see, Good ol' Bryan-boy has some considerable holdings stashed in your name, probably to get it away from his. I don't suppose you knew about that, either?"

"Bryan!" was all Heather could say.

The trophy wife stared at him, aghast. It was as though she'd had the mental wind knocked right out of her.

"I mean, the I.W.K., for God's sake." Dagmar marveled. "I just couldn't believe it. Do you two have any idea what will happen when people find out? What Madoff went through will be nothing in comparison; children will whip pieces of broken pavement at you in the streets, women will spit on you and men will want to beat the daylights out of you. Not to mention what the law will do. Oh my, what a lot of trouble Bryan has landed you both in."

Heather began to cry.

"What do you want?" Bryan asked in a quiet voice, looking at the carpet. "If it's your money, I can get it. I just-"

"No. As much as I hate to lose that amount, I can afford it. You will begin selling assets and paying money back to those who most need it, the Hargess's and the other working class people who don't know you've put them in the poorhouse as of yet. And the I.W.K.. My God, you have absolutely no scruples whatsoever, do you?"

"You're,... you're not going to blow the whistle on me?", Chalmers asked, daring to hope.

"If I were to do that, nobody would see their money, would they? Sure, you'd go to jail forever, which is what you deserve, but by then everything would be gone. Plus, you'd also be dragging your 'probably innocent' wife to jail along with you."

"How could you have done this!?" Heather wailed, covering her face with her hands.

"You're really not going to tell anyone?", Bryan asked again, ignoring her in favour of grabbing for that one twig of hope as he dangled at the precipice of his doom.

"No. I'd love to, but that would be counterproductive. Your wrongs must be righted. You are the most appropriate person to do that and you can't do it from behind bars."

"The I.W.K.! For God's sake, you fool!" Heather accused.

"What I can't get over is the blind greed." Dagmar imparted, picking up her glass again with a conversational expression. "I mean, every one of you ponzis just hang around for years doing what you do, getting richer, fatter and closer to inevitable discovery and you just stay. Any thinking person would get out while the getting was good and disappear somewhere with the money and a new name, but you idiots think you can just go on forever. Why is that? No, I'm really curious about such stupidity."

Bryan shook his head and refused to answer, or look at her.

"Did you think you were smarter than everyone else?" Dagmar laughed. "First of all, you're a man, so you should have known you're not that bright and that a woman would catch you sooner or later. Second, there's that old saying about fooling all of the people all of the time that you obviously have never heard,..."




Changes Ch. 04



"We'll be pariahs!", Heather cried into her palms. "My position at the Country Club,...!"

"Heather, please stop crying, honey, you'll cause your makeup to run." Dagmar soothed. "And as long as you both cooperate with me, they'll be no need of your worst fears coming to fruition, will there? Are you willing to cooperate, Bryan?"

"Yes.", he said, nodding a gesture of defeat and desperation.

"Heather, are you also willing to cooperate?"

The blonde had taken her face out of her hands and nodded as well, making a small sound that indicated she was willing.

"Excellent. You know, Heather, I really am inclined to believe you in this matter and I'd hate to see your life completely ruined by this, even though you've been enjoying the fruits of other peoples hard work for several years now. I'll bet that dress you're wearing is worth two or three months pay to the average worker."

"B-but that's not me! I,... I grew up in suburbia! My F-Father worked for C.N.!" she blubbered.

"Hm. I suppose you thought you'd found a winner. Sad. Bryan, give her your handkerchief, do I really have to tell you this? She is your wife, I'd say it's the least you can do after ruining her life, wouldn't you?"

He gave it to her, beginning to recover himself a little and looking just a little reproachfully at Dagmar for that comment as Heather carefully dabbed at her eyes and cheeks.

"Now,...", Dagmar said, resettling herself and then taking another sip before continuing. "With respect to the fact that I'm not going to get my money back, and you both are so ready to be so cooperative,... Heather,... I think I'd like to watch you suck my friends cock."

I was just beginning to settle back, thinking the real action and revelation was over. I should have known better. My eyes widened as I riveted my attention on Dagmar, holding myself straighter in my chair again in the silence that followed. Both the Chalmers looked at me with bewilderment and disbelief in their faces, then back at Dagmar.

"I know." my dangerously alluring 'friend' told them. "But you did hear me correctly. We all three know who's in charge here, and under the circumstances, Heather,... Who are you to complain?"

"You can't mean that!" Bryan protested, drawing my attention as he became tensed in his chair. 

"Oh, please, I'll do anything!" Heather begged, glancing fearfully at me.

"Yes, you will." Dagmar replied sweetly. "And sucking his cock is a good start. Think of it as a payment on that dress.

"But I meant-"

"Make sure he cums, too. He's been quite good, a very fast learner in some areas, and he's been denied that opportunity as of late."

Heather looked at me again, not quite accepting this turn of events and, for that matter, neither was I. I kept waiting for Dagmar to tell them she was just fucking with their heads while my cock twitched. That didn't help as I could only helplessly stare back at Heather.

Looking over at me, Dagmar ordered, "Take your pants off and give her your cock."

Okay, this was nuts. I hesitated, staring back at Dagmar now until her eyes narrowed on me. I slowly stood, watching her eyes lighten a little once again.

"You mean you want her to,...!" huffed Bryan, red faced and as helpless as I was.

"Save your energy, Bryan." she laughed, taking another sip from her glass and adding, "You and I have some business to discuss while Heather attends to hers."

"I have to-", Heather faltered, "Here? Right in front of,... my own husband?" 

"He shouldn't have a problem with it. He of all people should understand, I assure you and, besides, what are you complaining about? He's got a hell of a lot more going for him than Bryan does. He's working class, like your father, and it shows on him."

Now I'm totally on the spot, having taken my shoes and sox off and undoing my belt, stripping in front of these strangers. Worst of all, the entire situation had me turned on and, as awkward and fundamentally undesirable as it was, I was half hard by the time I dropped my pants and stepped out of them.

"Unbutton your shirt, pet."

I was red as a beet, undoing the buttons from the top and feeling my erection growing as I stood on display, all three of them staring and each with a different expression. Dagmar strikes again.

"Now, go stand in front of her so she can sit comfortably while she sucks you off."

Once again, I could only do as I was told. Heather drew back, eyes widening at my approach and I tried not to look her in the face as my phallus bobbed with every step, completely and humiliatingly hardened now. I stopped in front of her, looking to my left rather than in the direction of Heather's silently enraged husband.

"Don't be shy, honey, sit up and take a nice look at it. ... Thaaaaats it. Now just suck on his head a little to start with, hmm?"

Peripherally, I could see the pleading look on the blonde's face, my cock standing at attention three inches from her disgusted and horrified face.

"Go ahead. Bryan, go get a cam-corder while she thinks about it."

"No! I'll,... do it.", she resigned herself, then slowly covered the head of my cock with her pink lips.

"That's it. Now, suck,..."

"slurp."

My prick jumped at the first touch of her lips and when she started sucking like she was told, I couldn't believe it. It was definitely no joke. I dared a glance at Bryan and saw him watching, stunned as his wife rather noisily sucked me.

"Mmmm.", Dagmar approved. "You must understand that, as the lady I am, I can't possibly allow a man to do this to me, however I do get such a vicarious thrill out of watching,..."

"Sl-urp."

"Uhh!" I gasped under my breath, really enjoying her attentions despite, or maybe because of, the surrounding circumstances.

"Make it nice and sloppy for him, honey. Bryan doesn't mind that much."

"Mmmm!" she protested, going down a little further on me.

"Thaaaat's right,... Yeah, like that. Nice and sloppy, remember."

"Slluu-urp! Mmmgff."

"Is she good, pet?"

"Yes! I gasped, nodding and trying not to look at Bryan.

"Look at Bryan." Dagmar scoffed.

(dammit, she always did that!)

I looked to see him still watching as my cock now slid jerkily in and out of his wife's mouth.

"You enjoying this, Bryan? Feel free to jerk off while you watch."

"How dare you suggest-!"

"Use your hands, Heather." Dagmar instructed, cutting him off in mid sentence. "Stroke him and play with his balls. And make it sloppier."

She slowly raised her hands and did as told. Her head bobbed up and down as her saliva ran down my length to the balls she now played with. She choked and quite a bit ran down her chin, but she continued, wide eyed and affronted.

"Ohh, fuck." I moaned under my breath.

"Bryan, get your cock out and play with yourself while you watch this." Dagmar ordered with a smile.

"Gmmph! Umm- (slurp!) -mmmph!"

"This is going too far! I will not-"

"Stealing from the I.W.K. is going too far. Get it out, now."

He did it. I couldn't believe it, but he did and he was hard.

Dagmar chuckled and said, "I knew it. Go ahead and jerk yourself off for us."

"I can't help it!" he protested.

"Whatever.", Dagmar replied sweetly. "You better hurry before she makes him cum."

He started stroking himself, his rod jumping in his hand. He was humiliated, but glanced over at his wife in time to see a large amount of slobber hanging from Heather's chin drop down to her chest, left bare by the moderately plunging neckline of her gown. It ran down her somewhat impressive cleavage as her eyes squinted in shame, knowing what that was.

"That's it.", Dagmar grinned. "Play with that cock. Look at her sucking my pet like a slut. C'mon, honey, let's see that girl from suburbia."

"Mmmmmgglllp! (sl-uurp!) Gmmmmpp!" Heather retorted.

"You know, heather, my pet is rather good at the fine art of sucking pussy. If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'd accommodate you after you're done here."

"Mmmp!" the blonde declined.

"Ahh-h.", Bryan gasped, breathing heavily, but still understandably outraged as he stroked himself, grabbing his balls a little at the base of his rod each time and dragging his fingers up his length, playing with his head before going back down.

Dagmar watched this little scene with a dirty smile, taking a sip of her drink and subtly grinding her thighs against one another.

"I- I thought we were going to talk business!" he blurted, looking accusingly at her.

"Make yourself cum first, that way you'll be relaxed and focused. Use both hands so you can stroke yourself while you play with your head."

"Oh, fuck!" I gasped as Heather took me out of her mouth for a breath.

Breathing heavily, she tried to stop the long, thick string of saliva stretching from my cock to her bottom lip from breaking, but was too late. It did and fell away to the front of her dress, running slowly down the smooth fabric and darkening a trail behind it until it stopped.

"Ohhh!" she moaned.

"Keep sucking, Heather."

She went back to me, sucking as told while her husband watched and beat off. 

"Drool on yourself, Bryan. Lick your hands."

He did both and gasped all the louder when he went back to playing with himself.

"Ngk! Mmmgkk! (sluuurp!) Ommmmmff."

Both Bryan and I were groaning louder now as Heather really seemed to bend herself to the task.

"Ohhh, pet. Put your hands down the front of her dress and play with her tits. Tell me if her nipples are erect."

I carefully put my hands at the top of her chest and moved them down with no resistance from our Hostess, beneath the neckline of her dress and to a very small, thin, low cut bra. They were quite nice. Not as big as Dagmar's, but certainly respectable and with a very nice shape. I played my thumbs over her indeed erect nipples, making her jump.

"They are." I managed as she practically choked on my hardon, probably in an effort to get this over with.

"Mm hmm. Keep playing with her tits, I think she likes it. So does Bryan."

Oh, fuck!" he yelped.

I looked in time to see him ejaculate into the air a little ways before it returned to his tux. He spurted on himself over and over while he watched my hands down the front of his wife's dress, crying out ashamedly.

"Oh, my! What a mess you've made all over yourself." Dagmar approved.

"Oh,... Gaaa!" I exclaimed, getting close.

"Are you going to cum, pet?"

"Yes, Mistress!" I ground out.

"Heather, I want you to finish him with your hand. I want you to let him cum all over that beautiful face for us, hmm?"

"Mmm-mmm-mmp!" she protested.

"Oh, ffff!!" I breathed, hunching over a little and grabbing Heather by the shoulders. I drew out just in time to shoot my first blast over her upper lip as she continued to jerk me, pumping shot after shot into her face.

"Oh, no! Noooo! Ohhh, nooo!" she pathetically moaned as I laced my cum across her fine features.

"Oh, Yes!" Dagmar disagreed, "Oh, yes, yes, yes! Bravo!" 

"Are you finished abusing us now?" Bryan asked, moving to put himself back in his pants.

"I didn't say you could put that away, and no, I'm not quite done abusing you now." Dagmar replied, looking over at Heather. "You did very well, honey. And don't you look so adorable with his cum all over your face?"

"I can't believe this is happening to me!", Heather whined, hands held away from her as though she were still trying to save the dress that a rather large clot of semen was now falling on from her chin.

"Well, don't you worry. Everything will be alright as long as you keep doing what I tell you. Now, just lie back in your husband's lap and ask my pet to lick your pussy."

I involuntarily looked at her lap, not wanting to do this, but still turned on.

"Oh, please." Heather implored.

"Ask him." Dagmar insisted, taking a sip of her glass. "Lie down and ask him to make you cum in your little panties, so Bryan and I can get down to business. Uh, you are wearing panties, right?"

She nodded in defeat as another large clot of my seed ran down over her parted lips. She lay down, looked up at her husband for a brief moment and then looked at me.

"Would you make me cum in my panties?" she asked quietly, looking at Bryan again, guiltily.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Pet, lick her pussy. Don't be surprised if you find her all wet down there."

Heather moaned at this comment as I nervously slid her ankle length evening gown up her legs while she watched. I uncovered her thighs and glanced up at her as I exposed the small, white silk triangle between her legs, supported by narrow, see through pink straps around her hips.

Bryan observed helplessly as I spread her legs, taking a good look before moving in.

"Now as I see it, Bryan, you can't be trusted. So, I've retained my team of investigators to assist you while you sell off all your assets, just to make sure you don't try to hide anything, possibly yourself, the minute we leave."

Kneeling between her spread thighs, I looked up at Heather and saw the pleading expression in her eyes. There was really nothing I could do, though, except look at my Mistress with a pleading expression of my own as she spoke, if only to not have to look at Heather.

"And they're a top notch team, I'm sure you'll find. What's wrong, pet? Can't find her pussy?"

That was it, I tried and that was what the expression I flashed Heather said. She closed her eyes as I got closer, deciding there was nothing for it but to start. I put my hands, surprised to see them trembling, on her inner thighs and moved them up to her groin right away, softly massaging the very tops of her legs, actually trying to relax her. She jumped at my touch and involuntarily tried to close her legs but my shoulders were between them.

"Don't mind them, Bryan, they're just getting to know one another. Now, as I was saying, my team consists of a forensics expert, a corporate lawyer, a computer scientist, an ex Bay Street finance wizard, the standard private investigator and, of course, the muscle. In addition, a friend of mine will be specially tasked to see to your behavior. Mistress Crush will keep you on a very short leash and they'll all be in constant contact with you, since they already know all about you. Who better to oversee things, right? Plus, the money's good and they were only too happy to extend their contracts, especially after everything they uncovered."

I had gently pried her legs open while I continued the sensual massage, kneading her inner thighs and rubbing up on her front, my fingers on either side of the white satin. Finally, when she seemed a bit settled, I softly traced my thumbs back and forth along the sides of her lips, making her sigh forcefully, suddenly opening her eyes and locking them on mine. It made me feel guilty, being caught staring, but I was transfixed. She had a very nice mouth, a fact that I'd noticed just before she put my cock in it. Lying back, looking down at me with that panicked expression and my cum all over her face sort of really did something for me.

"So obviously, neither one of you are going to that charity auction tonight. In fact, my team will be showing up here soon to get you started. You are to cooperate with them in every way and you are to show them every convenience of this home. They'll be your roomies and you'll be serving them, waiting on them hand and foot, actually. Heather, spread your legs for him, it's much better that way, hon."

She crooned mournfully as she did as she was told. Slipping a finger a little ways in both sides of her panties, I stroked her lips slowly, softly, feeling them glide easily over the moist, shaved surface.

"Ah! Uhh!" she gasped, eyes widening as she watched my face the whole time.

"At this point, you're probably wondering where you're going to be left after all this is over and you'll be happy to know that I'll answer that right now. You'll be left with one thousand Dollars and an airline ticket to somewhere warm, like,... Oh, I don't know, let's just say Paraguay. Or Kenya. Or Syria. Wherever I decide you'll end up, you will be free and nobody will be the wiser. Pretty good deal, don't you think?"

"Oh!" Heather exclaimed as I began slowly rubbing in a circular motion with two fingers, only that white satin between them and her opening. "A-, Oh!"

"You're going to ruin me.", Bryan said contemptuously.

"I wouldn't complain. I'd think a man of your,... whatever, could get a good start in Paraguay with a thousand Dollars. It goes a lot further down there, you know."

"Mmmm. Ohhh, nooo!" Heather moaned as I rubbed up and down between her lips, slowly making my way to her clitoris.

"And how will I know you won't fuck me over?"

"You won't, I suppose. How did I know you'd fuck me over? See? See how that works, Bryan? Look, don't you do this for her? She seems to be enjoying this quite a lot, don't you think?"

"Nooooo, I- Haaaaa!?" she protested as my index finger wormed its way inside her wet slit. "Nnnnnnoooo!"

"Notice how he's thoughtful enough to warm her up first? Some woman somewhere taught him something, that's for sure."

I pulled her panties aside, exposing her pink entirely with my finger poking around inside as her clitoris swelled like one of Dagmar's nipples. I lowered my face and began to lap with my tongue between her lips and above my finger.

"Uhh! Ohhh! Oh, god no, please! Mmmmmaaaa!"

"Anyway, I think that's more or less it, as far as business between us goes. I'll be speaking to my team lead from here on in, so I'll only be around every once in a while for personal entertainment purposes until you leave the continent for good. In fact, I don't think I even want you on the same hemisphere with me. What do you think of Ethiopia? How about-"

"Ohhhh! Ohhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh!"

"-How about Nigeria? If you're heart isn't set on someplace warm, I could always send you to Siberia."

"Look, alright, you have me! Please don't send me to some hell hole, I'll cooperate in every way I can!" I heard Bryan angrily ask.

"If my team is pleased with your overall performance, I may consider somewhere like China,... possibly even Egypt."

I was now licking up far enough to just touch her clit, lingering just beneath it a little before returning to her opening and coming back up. She was definitely enjoying this despite herself, and I could see the shame in her face over it when I glanced up at her from time to time. It turned me on even further and I suddenly lashed her hard, protruding clitoris with my tongue.

"Uhhh!! Ohhhh!! Fffffffffuck!! Oooooooohhh, god!!"

"I told you he was good. Didn't I tell her he was good, Bryan?"

Bryan declined to answer as I sucked on her bud, making her holler and writhe like she was on fire.

"Don't forget her ass, pet."

"Ohhhh, nooooo-hoooo!!"

"Oh, yes. lick her ass, boy. Make her all nice and jumpy. ... Oh, see? She does like it. I don't know, Bryan, I don't think she's getting much quality sex out of you to be enjoying this like she is. You know, sex is either dirty or boring, that's what the song says."

"Do I have to watch this?" he demanded.

"Oh, yes indeed. You must watch this because I enjoy it all the more when you do. In fact, why not be of some use and hold her leg back for her?"

"Ohhh god!! Ohhh fuck!! Awwww!!" she squawked as I worked my pinky finger into her ass, knowing Dagmar would like it. 

Bryan did as he was told, he and Dagmar watching Heather's hips jerk slightly and sporadically.

"You know what he's doing to her?" Dagmar teased with a leer.

"Yes!"

Then I was using my middle finger, probing her squirming ass as I plunged deeper to the sound of her shocked squealing. I sucked greedily from her sex, digging with my tongue at the same time and flicking her clitoris with a darting finger.




Changes Ch. 04



"Oh dear, this is good. They look very nice together, don't they? I think she likes younger men, and he certainly seems to like her. See, he's hard again. Oh, Heather, darling,...", Dagmar politely called, "Your suburbia is showing!"

She laughed at her little joke while something like humiliated sobs intermixed with Heather's increased squealing. 

"Oh, Bryan! I'm so glad I visited tonight! Unfortunately, we may have spoiled your wife, but no more than you are. Isn't that right?"

"What are you talking about now?" he demanded over the noises Heather was making in his lap.

"I really have to spell it out for you? Ah well, now that we're all better acquainted, I suppose we should stop dancing about your little indiscretions."

"Ahh-hh-iiiieeeeee!! AWWWW! Oh, fuck! FUUUUCK! Ugggnn! Oh, NOOOOOO!! BRYAN, I'M CUMMING!! OHHHHHHHHH!!"

"Heather, your husband is cheating on you with three other women, all of whom know about you."

"OOOOHHH, NOOOOOOOO!! OH, FUUUUUHHHHHH-HAAAAAA!?"

"Oh my God!" Bryan raged. "What the fuck is wrong with-?"

"I know, think how poor Heather must feel right now." Dagmar replied, cutting him off. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh.", Heather toned as I removed my finger.

"You won't get away with this!" Bryan charged, pointing the index finger of the hand he wasn't using to hold his wife's leg for me.

"Now, that's just the kind of talk that'll land you in Yemen when this is all over. That wouldn't be very nice at all, now would it?" she asked as if it were a personal joke between friends.

"You,...", Heather stammered, looking up into Bryans face, " ... Cheating on me?"

"I,... Baby, it's not like that! It's,... We can talk about this later." he said, forcing a smile.

"But,..."

"Yes, Heather, my investigators uncovered his 'kept' women during the course of their investigation. Interesting how he didn't stash any money under their names, but it's a moot point, really. You're only concern now is doing exactly as you're told. Do you understand, honey?"

Heather nodded, dazed and still in the afterglow of her orgasm.

"Good girl. From here on in, you will refer to me as 'Mistress'. Do you understand this, girl?"

She hesitated, confusion in her eyes as I watched from between her legs before she nodded uncertainly again.

"What are you-!"

"Bryan, you shut up or I'll give Mistress Crush an opportunity to get to know my verbally abrasive little pet before she gets to you. Heather, tell me you understand your Mistress."

"I- I understand, M-Mistress."

"Excellent.", Dagmar beamed. "She learns faster than you do, boy. You just keep doing exactly what you're told, as you've just agreed, and I guarantee you that all of this will go away. Now, go get cleaned up and pack a small bag for yourself, you're coming with us."

Nobody moved for a second. We all just looked back at her until her smile started to falter, looking back from one to the other of us and, of course, settling on me.

"Perhaps if you got out of her way and put your pants on,..."

I moved, broken from the collective stupor by the very person who caused it, suddenly quite glad to be getting my pants back on, very ashamed at what had happened and also suddenly somewhat hurt that Dagmar would use me like that. It actually seemed there was an understanding in the car just a little while before that; how could she,...

My shame deepened and was joined by anger. I kept my back to the room as I reclothed myself so they couldn't watch, so I couldn't see Heather getting herself together and so Dagmar wouldn't see my expression until I could get rid of it.

"I didn't say you could put yourself away, Bryan." Dagmar commented just before I turned around.

"Where are you taking my wife!?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the dark skinned brunette teased.

"Yes! I would! Where!?"

I'd turned in time to see Heather scuttling around the corner, Dagmar smirking evilly at Chalmers and replying, "If I were you, I'd be a lot more concerned about where-"

The doorbell, a soft tone, rang in the middle of Dagmar's sentence and she told me to answer it and invite the team in. Bryan could only reproachfully watch me pass, as helpless as ever, as helpless as I was, and I couldn't blame him for hating me. 

"Who are you?", barked a thin, pale, almost boobless redhead about my own age in a long, black leather coat, carrying what looked like a large Doctor's satchel. There was a group of people on the short walk behind her, all of them also with cases and looking at me as she awaited my answer.

"I'm with Mistress Alejandro.", I stated, and was about to go on when she barked again.

"I asked you your name, boy!"

I looked at her and blinked a couple times before answering.

"Yeah,... well, my Mistress is this way."

I allowed my hand to drop carelessly, tiredly from the edge of the heavy wooden door I'd been holding open, rolled my eyes and turned to lead them to the front room.

Back in the chamber of humiliation and degradation, I threw myself into the chair I'd been occupying before. I felt betrayed by Dagmar and pretty stupid for feeling that way at the same time as the bitch I'd greeted at the door started, pointing at where I slouched.

"What in hell is that impudent,... puke!?", the redhead wanted to know.

"Oh, he's my scruffy little coyote. He needs a little work yet, please try to tolerate him, Mistress Crush."

"I'd be glad to provide intensive courses of study in respect, if you like!"

"He's a wilder and a one woman dog, I suspect. On the other hand, Mr. Chalmers here,... Well, you already know all about him, don't you?"

Crush rounded on Chalmers and immediately punched him in the face.

"UHHHH-FFUCK!", he yelled, hands clamped over his beak. "What the fuck wazzat for, you crazy bitch!?"

"That was for stealing from sick kids, you filthy, infected foreskin!"

She punched him again, striking his hands and getting another pained yell before explaining, "And that was for calling me a stupid bitch! Renaldo!" she yelled, snapping her fingers in the air.

The black version of Louis Ferigno stepped from the group and to Crush's side, causing Bryans eyes to bulge. In a second, our host was jerked from his seat and thrown to the floor, face down with a loud grunt and a curse. 

Crush removed her long coat and laid it where he was sitting, revealing herself to be in full Dominatrix mode with a short, black leather skirt, black stockings and black leather bustier that covered almost completely everything she clearly didn't have. She placed her booted foot on his back and opened her Doctor's case, producing a collar with a leash. In less than ten seconds she had it on him, yanking on it with her foot still on his back as she harshly described her expectations of him.

"Ah, Heather.", Dagmar chirped conversationally as she stood in the doorway, cleaned up, changed and looking frightfully at the new arrivals, not to mention Mistress Crush. "How very fleet of you. Bryan, say goodbye to your wife, she's leaving now."

"You won't get away with this!" Bryan suddenly raged, gathering his arms and legs and trying to get up. "I'll go to the cops annnnnkkkkkllee!"

"Say goodbye!" Crush ordered, heartlessly yanking on the leash with almost all of her body weight on the center of his back.

"Nyack!"

"Say iiit!" she warned through her teeth, leaning over a little and applying more pressure.

"Kayk! Kayk!"

Crush allowed slack in the leash and transferred some of her weight to the floor, allowing the man to squak, "Goodbie,... Heatha!"

Heather first looked at Dagmar, who obviously approved of this reaction. Her smile widened as she arose from the love seat, straightening her dress before looking at Bryan.

"You might tell him good bye, girl." she said carelessly, making it clear that it made no difference to her.

"I'll,... I'll see you, h-honey."

"I love you." he added.

Crush scoffed at this and I couldn't help but look at Heather as Dagmar gestured for me to join the two. Knowing he'd cheated on her, she couldn't bring herself to say it, didn't even know if she did love him or not, and it was written all over her face. I stepped around Bryan and Crush, she sneering at me and speaking as I went by.

"I'd be very curious about teaching a wilder. And I always get results, so you'd best behave, eh little one?"

I stopped, fixed her with a patient smile and said quite sincerely, "I got bigger fish to fry than some titless rent-a-pig with penis envy." 

I moved on through the group of the spectating techies and their cases without looking back, not even when both Crush and Bryan started screaming for different reasons.



Changes Ch. 04



Author's Notes:

(1) This is still mostly fantasy;

(2) It is best to start a book at chapter one;

(3) If the reader does not enjoy cross dressing, he or she may not enjoy this story;

(4) If there is a cross dresser in your life (who is either you or your partner) perhaps it might be beneficial and fun to read.

*****

That was another beginning in so many beginnings. The next morning, we were like new lovers, touching and giggling in bed, smelling like sex, that mix of body fluids and pheromones, unmistakably unique to us. I awoke with the girdle and panties still around my ankles and she teased me, saying, "For God's sake Steph, pull up your panties!" It should have been embarrassing, but for some reason it wasn't, not with her. In fact, once she saw me again with my girdle pulled up, she reached for me and grasped my silicone breasts, pulling me toward her.

"Damn," she said, "Pull the girdle down again; I changed my mind. You on top this morning."

I couldn't believe it. She laid back and I positioned myself over her with my morning "woody". She was moist and ready and as I entered her we both gasped and then sighed. There was a moment of intense rapture. Then she did an odd thing; she pushed me out and just used my tip to stimulate her clitoris.

"I want to use you, baby," she whispered, "You can put it back in when I say." She had a sweet, teasing look.

I was hot for her, and this made me hotter, wanting her but not having her consent. I stayed obediently over her while she closed her eyes and did what she wanted to do, moving my penis around as if it was her private vibrator. My arms were getting tired holding myself up and just as I said, "Please Sarah! Let me put it in!" she made a light yelp as she had a mini-orgasm. When she caught her breath, she said, "Don't plead, and don't ever whine. I don't like that. You can put it in now, and let's try a little game."

I was listening as I penetrated her again, but was so wrapped up in passion, I couldn't speak in sentences. I managed, "Game?"

She had a naughty grin on her face as she said, "You don't come until I say you can come. Agreed?"

I smiled back. "No, I can't control it like that," I whispered breathlessly.

"What?" she said. She pushed me out abruptly and said firmly, "Well, learn to control it!"

"Sarah!" I whined.

That was it. It wasn't anger; it wasn't anything but a decision on her part. She pushed me away and said, "Okay, masturbate then." And she got out of bed hurriedly to go into the ensuite bath closing the door behind her. I thought she was joking, but then I heard the shower start. Jesus, I thought, what the hell was this all about, and where did it come from? This was a new trait that she had never before displayed and it, quite frankly, alarmed me. 

Later, when we were having breakfast together, I tried to bring it up, but she brushed it all away, only saying that she had laid out an outfit for me to wear for the day and that there was housecleaning to do. I kissed her goodbye at the door, still dressed in yesterday's girdle and bra, and she left, smiling and radiant as if nothing had happened. Any observant person at her office would know she had sex the night before. They just wouldn't know it had been with a woman, or that this was more than just sex now; it was...well, it was the beginning of something more, something where the power had shifted.

This sulking and angry outburst on her part had left me bewildered, even more so because of the way she acted immediately afterward, as if it never happened. But now I understand the methods she used. And after all, they were effective; I don't whine or question her at all now; it's just not worth it.

Our lives had changed. Every night, sometimes fueled by copious amounts of wine, we explored and asked each other questions, what we liked, what we didn't, as we navigated the labyrinth of our previously hidden fantasies and emerging lifestyle. Actually, that's not entirely true; and come to think of it, she asked most of the questions and I answered. I didn't really know it then, but I was being led like I had a ring through my nose. Not that it was a bad thing; I loved every second of it; and she was full of pleasant, erotic surprises. The other thing that I realize now is that this was not so much my journey, as it was Sarah's. She seemed to be awakening to something within herself, to the possibilities my fetishes presented to her in this evolving adventure, and like a child in an imaginative game, she had her perspective, and mine had to fit that, or the game couldn't work. I never talked to her about it; I didn't want to for fear it would spoil the delicate balance of exploration. I sensed that to question it would break the spell, so I selfishly left it alone.

The padded girdles arrived as predicted, but they were a disappointment, crudely made and resembling bumps only. They were a non-issue, and I mention them only to demonstrate that over the weeks, months, and years, we tried many things, and not everything worked for us. Neither of us liked them even though it was agreed that I should wear them until the silicone padding wraps (which we ordered that same day) were delivered in another two weeks. The development of this lifestyle was comprised of many instants of unbelievable eroticism, with intervening periods of waiting with patience and anticipation, much like an erotic staircase, a series of flat spots with sharp changes in elevation always leading upward.

While the perfection of the cross dressing and feminization was taking place, a new twist began to emerge. Sarah had started to show me clothing and devices from bondage sites on the Internet, and we laughed and giggled long into the nights at the extremes of fantasy and fetish. It was intensely fun and erotic to state our likes and dislikes as we browsed around, but I didn't know she was taking mental notes. Almost every time we surfed these sites we eventually found ourselves at that Internet site where we looked at each other and said, "What the...?", and we would laugh and call it a night. 

And so the bondage games began. The locking ball gag was a total surprise, and it was weird that this was the first bondage device she bought for me. I would have thought that the more common first choices would have been wrist or ankle cuffs, but she danced to the beat of her own drummer. 

When she put it in my mouth that one Friday night and I heard the click of the lock behind my head, it was a feeling I have trouble describing. I tried to push it out of my mouth and I tried to fumble with the lock, but after a while I succumbed to the realization that it was locked in place until Sarah decided to unlock it. She said as much with a fiendish grin, "You're going to stay gagged tonight Stephanie, so I can have some peace and quiet okay? I'll unlock you when I want you to please me later."

"Mmf, mmf," was all I could say. I was always being surprised and put off balance by her ideas, like I was being pushed around in a dark room by forces unknown, always ending in her orgasm, most times ending in mine.

It was so selfish, mean and erotic all at once. I loved it. And true to her word, later when we went to bed, she did unlock my gag and I served her well, so that she had several intense orgasms, eventually pulling my head up and pressing it onto her still heaving bosom. It wasn't long before her breathing became long and deep, and I realized she had gone to sleep; she had had no intention of letting me enter her. This was the new and emerging Sarah, one that was training me to have an orgasm when she chose, not when I did. I went to the washroom and masturbated. For quite some time I did this often, but it was interspersed with the most mind-blowing sexual encounters with my new wife, so that being used by her occasionally didn't really bother me. She once told me that women are often used like that: the men come, and the women are left to dream of what could have been.

"Get used to it," she said, "As Stephanie, you don't have as much control. And that's the way I want it."

I still get locked into that ball-gag device periodically, but now it's just a peripheral thing rather than the only bondage item. The evolution of her domination fantasy and my submission was a dynamic, moving thing, never static, always new, and always built upon earlier compliance on my part. I never knew what was coming at me next. Still don't.

Then the work clothes arrived as promised. It was like a door to but another new room full of bizarre fantasies had been thrown open. And as usual, I walked in and the door slammed behind me, no handle on my side. The name on the door read "humiliation".

That morning after breakfast, Sarah said, "Your housework clothing arrived yesterday."

"Oh good," I said absently.

"It's very specialized. I told people at work I was going to be late coming in this morning, so go get showered and shaved so I can get you dressed."

I hadn't tweaked that something far-reaching was about to happen, so I said, "There's no need. Just go ahead. I'll wear what you put out, just like always. Don't worry." I continued reading the newspaper.

Sarah laughed and swatted my newspaper down, saying, "No. Can't you take a hint? Go have a shower and shave, and while you're in there, I'll get it ready for you. You're going to love it. It comes with new shoes too. Now scoot!"

I chuckled to myself as I stripped yesterday's girdle and bra off and climbed into the shower. Life was so much fun now, so full of surprises. After shaving my face, chest, underarms and legs I let the hot water fall on me, watching the rivers of water run down my hairless body like water off a polished and waxed car. I was shiny and new. My penis bobbed up and down asking to be stroked, but I decided wisely to wait until later, as always, after Sarah left for the day. She couldn't stop me if she wasn't here to do so.

What I saw on the bed made my heart sink. This was not my fantasy clothing. It was something else.

"I want you dressed in this today until after supper. After that you can wear a dress or skirt of your own choice. You'll wear this any day that you do housework, or any other day that I tell you to just because I feel like it." She giggled. "Do you like it?" Her cheek was bulging with her tongue.

Now I got it. This was HER fantasy clothing for me. "Sarah, really? Come on! I can't wear that. It looks stupid!" I said, whining.

Her look said it all. I had whined. Then she held up the red satin French Maid's dress with the attached crinoline which made the skirt portion puff out below the waist. The ultra-feminine outfit had an associated petite white apron and a bonnet for the head, and there were white lace accents everywhere. She punched the skirt and it bounced about and made a swishing sound against the crinoline. "Isn't this cute?" she said excitedly, trying again.

"No. No, it's not cute," I said, laughing nervously. It was the wrong thing to say. Her face changed.

"Well, just get your stockings, panties, girdle and bra on and give it a try okay? No harm in trying is there?"

"Jeez Sarah, I can't wear that. I'd even prefer men's clothes to that."

But when she gave me "that look" I reluctantly stepped into the bizarre dress, putting my arms through the puffy sleeves while Sarah zipped it up the back. I was just about to turn around to look into the mirror when I heard that familiar clinking sound of a lock being closed shut.

"What did you just do?" I asked with a laugh.

Sarah grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "It locks on. The top of the zipper locks to a metal ring at the neckline of the dress. You can't get it off."

I stared at myself in the mirror and my face turned as red as the dress, but not for the reasons I had anticipated. It looked surprisingly sexy, if you like that sort of thing, and the feel of it on my skin was luxuriously cold, slippery and feminine. I walked about and it felt light and cool as it rustled and swished. Then I felt the lock, shrugged, and said, "All I have to do is get some scissors you know and cut the cloth so I can get the dress off. The lock idea...it's kinda silly."

"Of course," she said with a trace of ice, "But then your statement that you would rather wear men's clothes would without any doubt become reality. You see how the lock works now?"

I let out a chuckle and shook my head, and the lock suddenly became real in my mind. But Sarah's approach to all this seemed different now. She was either a good actress playing the part or she was actually being this new dominant person, and I was confused as to which it was. But the result was the same regardless. "You'd stop all this fun, just to get your way? Why? I thought this was going so well. Jesus, I don't have to do EVERYTHING you say, do I?" I laughed weakly.

Sarah sighed and struggled to come up with the appropriate words. "Yes, actually you do, at least with regard to this way of life we're developing. Look, I'm having fun. And I like doing things to you that turn you on, but just in case you haven't caught on yet, I'd never do anything with you or to you that didn't turn me on too. It has to go both ways, and so far it does, don't you think? The more I've researched this, the more I get excited, and the more I believe I know you. You enjoy being told to do things like this; you don't want to have a choice, do you? Do you or don't you enjoy this? Make up your mind."

I didn't answer, nor did she wait for one. "Now, let's start again: nothing's gone off the rails here. Not yet. I want you to wear the dress. Just wear the dress. Not that you could get it off now anyway." She stood there staring at me with her hands on her hips, with really no expression on her face.

"I see," I said. This was a new turn of events. This appeared to be a slightly veiled threat, playful perhaps, but I wasn't sure. I didn't want to risk it. If I didn't do as she suggested, it might be all over, all the dresses, all the girdles, all the makeup, all of it, gone. Back into the closet. This was confusing. 

My inner thoughts screamed, "Wear the dress! And forget about cutting the lock off; the symbolical nature of it was far stronger than the steel of the lock."

The decision was mine to make (sort of) and I made it, right or wrong. It was a pivotal one which I have never regretted. Well, sometimes maybe, but I needn't go into that. "Okay. Where are the new shoes then?" I asked, subdued. I was acting my part in the scene, but in truth it was more than that. This moment was when the power exchange really took place. I saw the alternatives, understood what the lock really meant, and I wore the dress. She smiled.

The shoes weren't pretty at all, but they had the highest heels I had ever worn. The leather straps wrapped around my ankles as I tried them on. Sarah was at my feet and she fastened the ankle straps temporarily with a hasp, following quickly with a lock snapped in place on each shoe strap. To get them off I would either need yet another key or some leather cutters.

"What?" I asked, astonished, "These lock on too? Why?" I was both dismayed and excited. Being "forced" to do these things had now become my second favorite fantasy. Sure, I could cut both off, but that would defeat my fantasies. It was now a delicious, vicious circle.

Sarah just continued to smile smugly. She had me.

"Wish I could be here to see you prancing about with your duster, but I have to go. See you at suppertime sweetie. And don't look so lost. I know you're enjoying this as much as I am." She kissed me on the lips and reached under my dress to feel my rock hard penis under the girdle. She patted it twice and said, "See? I knew it. Enjoy your day, Maid Stephie. I'll have the keys with me."

I blushed intensely, not admitting it verbally, but I knew it too. It was part of the game: not admitting to the turn-on. For a man, however, there never is any place to hide regarding such things. If something is erotic to us, our cocks get hard; it's that childishly simple. Thus the humiliation factor became my third favorite fantasy. Wear women's clothes; be forced to do so; and revel in the humiliation of it.

I heard Sarah's high heels clicking away to the garage, and then she was gone. Here I was. I looked down over my satin covered silicone breasts with my hands stretched out to the side. I couldn't see past my skirt to my toes because of the extreme billow of the crinoline and skirt. My calves were already straining, I struggled to keep my knees straight in the extremely high heels, and I remember shaking my head in confusion, wondering how I had been swept so far down this erotic road. 

I thought about this as I fixed my lipstick and prepared to do the housework. I had been cleverly trapped by my own fetishes, and this had been amplified by Sarah's desires to exploit me as well. I had often dreamed of this, what it would be like to be dominated by a woman whose fantasy it was to dress me up in women's clothes. I never imagined it would become reality. I never imagined that the woman would be my wife.

I left the bedroom, struggling to walk in the heels. I felt so erotically female, and I had to adjust my stride so that I took smaller steps. I'm sure I didn't look that feminine though, as my hands and arms were stretched out slightly as if I was walking a tightrope. But it felt right walking in them, felt right wearing that dress, the bra, pantyhose and girdle. They hugged me with exquisite firmness like a second skin, and a feeling of contentment floated about with me, in that erotic bliss of fetish. I started to dust the house with my dust brush, a dainty feathered thing which matched my predicament: fragile and feminine, although the fragility had nothing to do with femininity. The fragility was me, and that was independent of gender.

As I worked, I felt as though something had just taken place, something of historic proportion for me, and it sort of felt like an anticlimactic event, as if I had simply passed into some new plane of being. There was no smoke and mirrors to this trick; it was like I just walked into another room of closure and shut the door behind me. Periodically I reached behind my neck and felt the lock at my neck, and then looked at myself in the mirror and shivered with anticipation and...I think it was fear. Because I didn't know exactly where this was going, where it was going to finish, or even if it would finish.



Changes Ch. 05



Two of the attendants had moved over to April's chair and were in the process of releasing her. The had her stand up, and Dr. Campbell quickly pointed out the large area of dark and damp cloth that had been under April's bottom. He also reached over and ran his hand up along her thighs. "Yes, just as I thought. Watching your mother get so much pleasure from those two run of the mill cocks my two assistants let her use certainly got your juices flowing! I guess, to be a kindly sort of guy, I need to let you get a little of your pent up arousal taken care of also. It really wouldn't be fair to let dear mom have all the fun. And just as the serum in dear ole dad took a lot of his maleness out of him already, I bet the serum I gave Robert has him about ready to ram his hard on into the first hole he can get to; male, female, animal or object. So why don't we kill two birds with the proverbial one stone here? I mean, I'm sure his cock is no stranger to your well plowed pussy, am I right?"

April looked up at the doctor and simply shook her head up and down , very quickly.

"No April, I need you to answer that question with your voice, loud enough so that dear mom and dad can clearly hear the answer. Not that, I'm sure, they already just knew. But let's get it all out in the open here dear. Tell us, Robert has fucked you several times already hasn't he?

April, with tears streaming down her face simply let out a "Yes, Sir."

"Well, April, tell us, has he also gotten his dick into your mouth and down your throat?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And how about that cute little butt of yours. Have you let him fuck your asshole too?"

"Oh god NO!" And with that she broke down and started really crying hard.

"Well, April, enough of that. Now just relax and let my able assistants get you all situated into this aerial sex swing." (The kind they used in the old porn classic Behind the Green Door, with Marilyn chambers) Which is exactly what the assistants had been doing the entire time the doctor had been talking. Here now was my oldest child, my daughter, strung up like a porn star, totally nude, and now with every part of her whole anatomy held open and completely exposed for everyone not only to see, but available to be used. In fact, one of the assistants was now nude and sitting in the sling that would place his cock at her mouth. This guy was hung too. His cock had to be about 10" long, and probably at least 4-5" around. My mind screamed to stop the abuse my baby was about to experience, but my body once again began its outrageous betrayal, releasing a steadily increasing flow of vaginal juice out and onto my own chair seat. 

(Now from April)

My body was shaking from the humiliation and shame that not only I had been through, but from what I had been made to witness as my own mother and father were so completely debased and abused. And yet my body was screaming its arousal. Imagine sitting just a few feet away from your boyfriend, and both of you tied to a chair without a single thread of clothing on, and this not just in front of your mother and father, but in front of your sister and little brother two! If it had been possible to die from embarrassment, I surely would have by now. But no, it just kept getting worse. 

Now I was the one that was going to have to put on a damn sex show for everybody, and dammit if my body wasn't downright flowing with obvious anticipation and even eagerness. Yes I was horny, damn horny. I had been sitting there watching two enormous dicks ravage my mother's body, and my own body was screaming ME, ME, I NEED THAT DICK IN ME! Now, here I was, about to get double or quite possibly from the questions asked, triple raped right in front of my family. My ass was in a sling, literally. I was suspended just high enough for someone to have easy access to my wide open pussy, as well as my asshole from behind, while the guy in the other sling was being raised up to obviously ram his huge cock down my throat. My arms were spread out from my body secured at each wrist. I began to wonder why they were strung out like they were. Suddenly I was completely surrounded by nude males. All four of the assistants had stripped. Now there was one standing behind me and one on each side of me. I quickly found that my hands had each reached out and grabbed the massive cock that had been moved into position by it. Then they brought Robert up in front of me, and damn was his cock hard, oozing pre-cum and ready to have a go at my glistening wet pussy. Well, at least it wasn't one of those outrageously big cocks like mother had had to deal with. I just gave in and let it happen. I mean I obviously couldn't keep it from happening anyway. And quite frankly, I was so damn horny that I don't think I would have refused even if I had been given the option.

Robert started the process by simply stepping forward and gliding his dick up into my dripping wet pussy, and oh how good it felt sliding up into me. My hands were already pumping up and down on the two 9-10" cocks standing at my sides, and then I felt fingers slipping down underneath me, gathering up my own juices and smearing them around and then into my exposed asshole. I knew that was going to hurt, but again what could I do. The guy who was swinging up above me was moving his dick into position for my mouth, so I simply opened up and let him in. I had never had a cock as big as him in my mouth before, and it was stretching my lips as wide as they could go. I really didn't like giving blow jobs, but somehow I didn't seem to really mind this time.

The guy behind me had taken first one and then slowly two of his fingers and had worked them into my virgin asshole. It hadn't really hurt yet, and was actually feeling quite good. Then he inserted a third finger. OMG it felt absolutely fucking GREAT! He began moving his fingers in and out, pumping them into and back out of my asshole, and twisting them in a kind of slow rotation. Robert was pumping into my pussy with a slow steady pace that felt absolutely wonderful, and my mouth rapist was actually matching tempo with Robert. He had managed to get my throat muscles to relax, and had taken possession of my throat. It had been invaded a few times before, but not this fully or deeply. I now had four cocks my body was pleasuring. Somehow that thought alone made me extremely happy. I had never know any other girl to lay claim to doing four guys at once.

SHIT! The bastard behind me had removed his fingers and had suddenly replaced them with his hard damn dick. Now to give the guy credit, at least he didn't just slam the damn thing into me all at once. He took his time and worked the head in first, but the damn head felt as big as a telephone pole, and as it pushed its way up into me, it hurt like hell. I would have screamed, but I had another telephone pole stuffed down my throat at the time, making a scream impossible. I'm amazed that I didn't bite the damn thing off though. Tears streamed out of my eyes and down my cheeks. It hurt. It hurt bad. But then the hurt began to feel good, and the more of that big stiff cock he managed to shove up into me, the better it felt. I of course had never had two cocks stuffing me at one time, and had never even dreamed I ever would. I was moaning around the cock in my mouth it felt so good. In addition, the two cocks in my hands had moved closer, and they were now rubbing against my exposed nipples, sending a constant stream of tingles to my pussy and clit. I was on fire. I had never, of course, experienced anything this hot and wild in my life. Suddenly my body exploded in orgasm so strong I think I passed out. I don't really know.

Whatever happened, it didn't stop anything that was happening to my body. The five cocks that were ravaging my body kept right on pumping in and out, possessing my body harder and deeper than I would have ever dreamed possible. I was absolutely hooked. It was like I had never had sex before this time. The difference in what my senses were feeling now as to anything they had ever felt before was like the difference between a barren desert and a posh spa, absolutely no comparison possible. I moved from one mind blowing orgasm to the next in such rapid and escalating succession I could not keep up. And then, when the men began to ejaculate it tripped me out even further. As the one began pumping his gallons down my throat, the wonderful tree trunk up my ass spewed his hot torrents deep into my bowels. Then Robert filled my ravished pussy with more spunk that I had ever known him to spew forth before and the two stiff poles I had been jerking off by hand, rubbing against and even into my stiff and now sore nipples and small breasts shot torrents on to my tits and up onto my neck and face. I was in heaven. A very blissful, spaced out, floating on clouds heaven. How could getting filled and coated with so much male jism feel so damn good? I was not even over this experience, and already I was craving it's repeat. I already wanted more.

But then, as the men moved away, I was in for yet another shock. They brought my father over and made him clean me up with his tongue. I was so drained of energy and emotional strength, I didn't even object. His eyes were downcast, refusing to even look at me as he meekly came over and licked away the spunk from my face and neck. As his tongue moved to clean my breasts, I realized how mush more sensitive they were. Each swipe of his tongue sent shock wave after shock wave of pleasure coursing straight to my pussy. Then his tongue made contact with my still throbbing and spasming vaginal opening. He licked and licked, pushing his tongue up into me like a little cock, then widening and drawing out glob after glob of Robert's cum. My mind knew it was my own father doing this, but my body didn't care. What his tongue was doing to my well fucked pussy was steadily pusing me towards yet another orgasm. I couldn't help nor deny the intensity of the pleasure I was feeling. The second his tongue swirled around and ran across my poor battered asshole I shot off like a roman candle on the 4th of July. This in turn caused my muscles to spasm out of control, and my ass to expel great torrents of spunk left up in me by the bugger who spewed his stuff up my ass. Dad locked his lips around my asshole and swallowed every single drop of cum and anything else that erupted from my asshole. I was so totally worn out I just drifted off. Sometime a little later they lowered me back to the floor and released me. My legs were so weak and wobbly that I had to be helped, almost carried to my chair.

(From Amy)

I sat and watched as both mom and then April were raped right in front of me. The degradation I had gone through on the exam table paled in contrast to what I saw mom have to endure. The very size of the cocks she had to take scared the absolute shit out of me, and then to see the blood seeping out of her raped pussy made me cry. Why couldn't somebody do something about these monsters who were raping and tearing my mother apart. But what I couldn't understand was why she wasn't fighting. And then when I saw her go from one orgasm to another, I almost died. How could she? She was being brutally raped! And why was my own body, watching her be so horribly brutalized, spewing a constant stream of vaginal secretions out and onto my chair? My nipples were so hard they hurt, and the rape scene playing out right in front of me was turning my body on! I wanted to die. I couldn't understand it.

Then when they took my sister April and gang raped her it was even worse. Mom had to deal with two rapists shoving their huge cocks into her, but April had five, five, all at once. And one of them was Robert! I thought he loved her, how could he just get up and use her like that? But again, April didn't even try to fight; in fact she really got off on all the abusive pounding she had to take. I didn't understand. Worse yet, I really didn't understand why my own body was reacting as if it was something really good, something that was turning me on. How? I guess the doctor was telling the truth when he told us that the drugs he shot us up with would do this to us. How I wish I could get out of here and forget all this crap. I wonder what they are going to do to me. So far all they've done is show everyone the complete inside of my vagina, not shove a big dick up into me. Thank god I'm still a virgin. That seems to have made a difference. Thank god for small miracles, but what now? Well I didn't have long to wait to find out. None of us did.



Changes Ch. 05



Heather, now dressed in a dark, modest floral dress that buttoned up the front, never did answer Bryan, nor did she speak a word out on the sidewalk as I let Dagmar into the back seat of the car, Heather right behind her as she was instructed. Once we were out and moving along with the sparse traffic, I took a quick glance in the rearview at her, sitting back in the seat, but visibly stiff as a sculpture with a tense expression in the flash of the overhead streetlights through the sunroof.

Don't fret, Heather." Dagmar said as I felt her reposition herself behind me with her hand at the back of my seat. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay?"

"Okay.", Heather answered in an unconvinced tone that matched her expression.

"You're going to be my guest for a little while and, since what you own now amounts to whatever you have in that suitcase, I'd say you're lucky to have a place to go. Also, you don't want to be involved with what'll be going on back there, not at all. You want to be distanced from that, insulated from it, for your own protection, if you are indeed innocent. You understand, correct?"

"Yes."

"Yes what, girl?"

" ... Yes, Mistress."

"Besides," Dagmar went on, "You have no idea what to think now, finding out about those women,... and the I.W.K.! I can only imagine what you're going throug, and maybe that's not the best place to sort those feelings out, especially now, is it girl?"

"I,... suppose."

"I liked your dress, by the way. You have very nice tastes."

"Umm, thank you."

"I like this nice little outfit, too." Dagmar noted, her voice getting even heavier. "It makes you seem so innocent. Come closer."

"Uh-h,.. Mistress?"

"Come closer." she coaxed. 

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see one of Dagmar's hands taking the front of Heathers dress, just under her breasts and pulling her to the other end of the back seat. There was the sound of a small tear and a surprised gasp from Heather.

"Oops.", giggled Dagmar. "Oh my, your skin is so nice and (tear) soft,... and warm."

"I- (gasp) Thank y- Oh!"

(tear)

"Oh, that looks like a very nice bra. Did you wear that just for me, girl?"

"I- "(r-rip!) "-Oh, no, please!" Heather whimpered.

"Shhh-shhh-shhh. Just relax and give Mistress a nice kiss."

I glanced again and watched Dagmar forcing Heather down on the seat, her lips locked on the blonde's mouth, one hand spilling a breast from Heather's bra.

"Mmmm! Mmaaaa! Helmmmmmmp! Obmmmvvv!" Heather protested, uselessly trying to wrestle the bigger woman off of her while she was pushed down to her back.

"Oh, please, Mistress, I'm not lesbian, I've never- Ohhhh!!"

"You don't mind my hand down those adorable little panties, do you?" 

"Oh god!" Ple- ummmm! Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmm!!"

"Shhh, little one. (r-r-riipp-p!) You'll just love sucking my pussy. Boy, take the long way home!"

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Again, Heather was silent when I returned to the car after having escorted Dagmar up to her condo. She sat in back, huddled against the passenger side door, holding her tattered dress around her as she peeked up and out the back corner of the side window. She seemed more or less alright, but what did I know? 

Close to three quarters of an hour later, I stopped the BMW in front of my garage, on the front of which, the motion sensor security light had activated. I shut the car off, removed the key from the ignition and sat, staring at the garage door while moths began gathering under the light. I didn't speak, or look behind me as I sat there. It seemed I should say something, such as "Welcome to the club", but I could only think about how Dagmar had used me. She clearly had no feelings for me at all.

I abruptly got out of the car and shut the door, feeling a lot of things at once then. My head was down as I reached the back steps and ascended the four, wide risers to the small deck before unlocking my door and going in. 

Without turning on the light, I picked my cigarettes and lighter off the table and lit one, got the bottle from the freezer and took a drink. A couple minutes later I was standing on the back step, cigarette pressed between my thoughtful lips as I put the bottle down on the deck at the top of the stairs. Back across the hard pack dirt yard, I reached the BMW, opened the driver's door and laid the long, black coat from 'The Alejandro Collection' over the seat before shutting the door and returning to the back deck. I sat at the top of the short staircase, took another drink and regarded the scuff marks in the dirt at the foot of the steps as though their random patterns spelled some way out of this mess.

By the time I heard the car door open and then shut, I'd adjusted to the point where some semblance of coping ability could be lured from the recesses of my mind. I took a drag and exhaled between my knees, down at the step my feet were resting on, not looking up at the sound of her shoes approaching, not even when they stopped within my field of vision.

"Where are we?" her quiet tone asked.

"My place." 

"Oh. Who are you?"

A reasonable question. 

"David Legassy. I'd welcome you officially but, under the circumstances, I just don't feel up to it."

"Don't worry about it. I've already had enough of your hospitality. Why am I here?"

" ... You're here because she decided you'll be here. She told you so in the car."

"What is wrong with you two? Do you know what she made me do?" she asked, quiet shock and humiliation in her tone.

Oh, I knew, alright. I was hard as a rock the whole long way to Dagmar's Condominium tower, there was just no helping that. I didn't answer, but took another drink, finally looking up at her. I offered her the bottle and, sticking her arm out from beneath the cape she'd made of my long coat, she took it. She tipped it and gagged a little before handing it back.

"I had no idea when I went there." I muttered.

"You enjoyed it!"

"I couldn't help it, and so did you."

"I- That's not-!"

"Yeah, get used to that feeling."

"I- I don't know what kind of sick game you two are playing here, but-"

"See, you're not paying attention, blondie. You keep blaming me, but it's all her. I had no idea what would happen in your house, any more than you did, and I didn't have any more room to refuse than you did, either. Didn't you notice how she kept referring to me?" I asked, becoming a little angry.

" ... So,... she's got something on you too.", Heather assumed, looking around herself and obviously wondering what interest Dagmar could possibly have in me.

"You might say that, yeah."

"What?"

"None of your business."

"You know my business."

"I wish I didn't."

"Yeah, well when my husband gets his feet under him, he's going to get me out of this with lawyers and a lot of cops, who all happen to know that extor- Why are you laughing!?"

I took a drag, chuckling humourlessly as I exhaled in her direction while advising, "Forget about your husband."

"She can't do th-"

"You'd be pretty surprised at what she can do. I found out the hard way the first time I tried to kick against her. You'd be very fuckin' surprised, blondie."

" ... My husband is a powerful man, he knows people who know-"

"Your husband is fucked. If she doesn't turn him in, she'll dump him someplace like Yemen, or Iran, or North Korea. She says she likes me, and you can't imagine,... Look, just forget about him. He's not going to get you out of this, he won't even be able to help himself. She loathes him and she's only playing with him. She guaranteed you would come out of this, not him, and if you're smart, you'll try to sit tight and see what opportunities present themselves. Your situation is actually a lot more workable than mine, you should feel lucky." I judged, taking another drink and flicking the cigarette butt over the railing and into the darkness.

"'Sit tight'?", she asked, incredulous at my words. "How am I- I was just raped by that woman and forced to,... to pleasure her with my mouth! After having to make you-! How the fuck am I supposed to sit tight, you moron!?"

"Right. Well, like I said, get used to that feeling."

She regarded me with an intense and sudden anger, balling her fists and actually twitching, her muscles gathering themselves for movement before she emotionally leveled off, her anger losing its power as she clomped up the stairs and ended up plopping down beside me, looking dumbly at the ground as I had been earlier.

"Here, take another drink. It helps make life bearable when you're not sleeping."

She took the bottle and tipped it again, looking back down and hanging on to it. A few moments later, she was crying. Soon, her tears turned to sobs as her shoulders shook with them under my coat. I heaved a silent sigh and lit another cigarette, staring off into the darkness beyond the corner of the garage.

I couldn't talk to her and I had no real interest in comforting her. I was upset enough about Dagmar and not exactly in the mood to talk about it, and besides, I expected that Dagmar liked Heather more than she did me. For all I knew, it wouldn't be long before Heather was gratefully telling me what to do, and anything I said then could be used against me later. No, I sure as hell couldn't talk to her.

After several minutes, when she seemed to be mostly through her emotional maintenance period, I slowly heaved my suddenly tired frame to my feet and walked to the door, pausing and looking down at her back.

"You're sleeping on the couch. There's a blanket in the hall closet, food in the kitchen and a lock on the bathroom door."

I went directly to bed, hoping I'd still be buzzed when I woke up.

   ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

I was, but not enough. 

I found her in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a pink polo shirt. She sat at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands, staring straight ahead as if in thought. I took the bottle off the counter where she'd obviously left it and took a pull, searched out the Tylenol and filled a glass from the tap before administering three to myself. 

Neither one of us spoke a word.

I went back down the short hall to the bathroom and took a shower, dressing in a clean pair of tattered work jeans and an old gray shirt afterward. These articles had been in the laundry when Dagmar cleaned up and I smiled grimly at the one thing I'd been able to pull off with her to date. Combing back my wet hair to a slick, once again considering a pompadour, I left the bathroom to deal with another day.

Back in the kitchen, she didn't seem to have moved and I wasn't sure if that was the same cup of coffee, or what. I made myself fluffed eggs and ate while leaning against the counter, rather than sit at the table, directly across from her.

My intentions for the day were simple: Putter around in the garage and ignore Heather.

In the garage, I refused to think of what happened the night before, refused to think about how my unwanted victim was actually sitting in my kitchen as I carefully drilled a pilot hole down through the twelve mm. pipe, trying not to break the little 1/8 bit. I was actually successful with both the pilot hole and my refusal to think of the immediate past and present until a few hours later, when I realized I'd have to go out for a few things. 

"I gotta go out and pick up some stuff." I quietly said about ten minutes later in the living room. 

She sat watching some science fiction DVDs I had. 

"So, what? I'm not your wife."

"Well, no shit. I thought you might need something. Forget I asked."

I turned to go, but she stopped me.

"Wait,... I'm sorry. I'm just having a hard time,... adjusting. I do need some things, but I don't have any money."

"I can get it, what do you need?"

"No, I coming with you." she informed me, turning my entertainment off before standing.

"What? Why?"

"Why shouldn't I? Did she say I have to stay here, that I can't go out?"

I regarded her, noting again how nice her body was in her jeans without actually checking her out and trying to figure her expression. Was that a poker face, or was it resignation that I was seeing?

"No.", I answered, having to make an effort to ignore her body. (what was wrong with me?)

"There you go. Anyway, it's boring here. Why don't you have TV service?"

"I don't need it, let's go."

"What about my shows, House, CSI, Law and Or-?"

"Not my problem, let's go."

We took the Monza, as it wasn't Dagmar's business, and she seemed to lighten up a little more beside me, probably glad not to have to so soon get back into the black, German sedan where she was raped by Dagmar.

"I'm trying not to blame you." she said as we roared down the blacktop, windows down in the heat. "I believe you when you say you had no choice; I remember the way you looked at she and I a few times last night,... It's just hard. To look at you and not see my abuser. I'm sorry, I just can't help that."

" ... I know."

I did. It didn't take a genius to figure out how she must have felt.

"I see it the exact same way, except I'm the abuser. 

She seemed to mull this over for a kilometer or so before speaking again.

"Ummm,... Did she say anything else? Did she say what would happen to me between now and whenever she lets me go?"

Of course, I knew that there was no guarantee Heather would ever be let go, but there was no point in telling her that. 

"No. She just told me to take you home with me and put you up until she got in touch."

"I hope she meant that as a figure of speech."

"I wouldn't count on that." I advised, lighting a cigarette.

After a pause, she asked, "How long have you known her?"

"A little over a year. A lot better in the past week or so."

" ... Is she dangerous?"

"Anybody's dangerous. But, she has a lot more potential and means, yeah. Let's just say that she's a lot more livable when she's happy."

"And when she's unhappy?"

"Think of Hurricane Katrina, the Indian tsunami, Pompeii, and the Haitian earthquake all at once. Especially if you're the one who was dumb enough to cause it."

"She into BDSM? What's this 'Mistress' thing?"

"Yeah,... after a fashion. But I gather she's not the average Domina. Don't call her a Dominatrix, by the way. She hates that."

"I don't want my boobs tied off and squeezed till they're purple." she said worriedly.

"You're in luck, she's not into that shit. Our Mistress prefers mental torture instead."

After another pause, she said something I didn't catch. I glanced over, but she was gazing out the side window at the green blur of the trees and occasional house going by.

From experience, I'd learned that women can't be trusted alone with money and Dagmar was very clear about my monthly allowance. That's why I had to go around with her and how I found myself in the lineup with her at the grocery store. While a little bit more at ease around one another, it was still an uncomfortable experience. It was like everybody knew, or something. I'd just begun to get over this feeling when the cell phone in my pocket rang, vibrating at the same time.

My heart immediately sped up, wondering what misadventure this call heralded. I dug it out and was about to answer when I remembered how I had to do it. I sighed, rolling my eyes and noting the big, tough looking construction worker who was waiting in line right behind me. 

"Hello, Mistress." I droned, closing my eyes.

"That's not a very positive tone, boy."

"I'm sorry."

"I doubt that. Where are you? Did someone just call for a price check?"

"We're at the Supermarket."

"How mundane. Heather's with you?"

"Yes."

"Put her on."

I handed the phone to Heather, mouthing that it was Dagmar. She looked at me, her eyes widening as she took the phone. After a moment's hesitation and without even trying to drop her voice, she put it to the side of her face and greeted Dagmar.

"Hello, Mistress. ... Umm,... not really. ... N-no, Mistress. ..... Yes. ........... Yes, Mistress, goodbye."

She handed the phone back, telling me Dagmar had already hung up as I took and closed it, dropping it back into my pocket. I involuntarily turned when I heard the amused hiss from behind me. 'Joe the plumber' stood there smirking.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at?" I asked him with a sneer while spreading my feet a little.

In retrospect, I think that his subconscious mind recognized a trapped and desperate animal, dangerous beyond reasoning and, despite his size, he shot me an uncertain, dismissive smile before looking away. I was actually disappointed by this. I can't explain why but, at the time, it would have been almost as good to be punched in the face as it would have been to mutilate his with my knuckles. It had been a rough nine days, and day ten didn't look like it was going to be any easier.

Heather looked sideways at me while we lugged the bags out to the car and, loading them into the hatchback, she explained.

"She wants us back at your place at five. Rolex time, she said to tell you."

"Fuck!" I hissed under my breath, finishing in a rush and checking my own watch. "A little less than an hour. Get in, I got more stops to make while I have the chance."

After grabbing a few immediate project needs at Canadian Tire, I hit the liquor store, getting in and out like a priest in a whorehouse before getting us under way again.

"We're going to be late." she said as we sat at a red light.

I checked my watch. 

"According to Acqua time, we have twenty eight minutes."

"We'll never make it.", Heather worried.

She was making me nervous.

"We'll make time out towards my place."

"Not enough." she predicted.

We decelerated wildly out in the road and shot into the driveway with two and a half minutes left by my watch, Heathers mouth harping like it was most of the way back.

"-I'm just saying that whatever it was at Canadian Tire could have waited! Now we're late and-!

"We're not late! Made it with two and- Oh, fuck me, that's her!"

There was a black Mercedes coupe in the driveway, the same one that was there on the day my Mistress terrorized Earl.

"You didn't say she'd be here!" I yelled.

"She didn't tell me she would be, I assumed she'd call!"

"Well, never fuckin' assume anything with her!"

"Well, I'm sorry, I just wouldn't have-!"

"Never mind! We have to,..."

"What!?"

"I don't know! Something!" I yelled as I brought the car to a stop, unable to describe to her the kind of mayhem that generally went with Dagmar's visits. I was freaked out and I suddenly realized it was mainly because of this woman who'd been at me the whole damned way back to the house. 

I turned the car off and said quickly, trying to calm myself, "Okay, we'll just leave all the stuff here and not keep her waiting. Try to look dirty and tired, or something."

"What!?"

"No time." I said, glancing at my watch and opening the door.

"Why should I-"

"Just shut up and move, blondie!" I hissed, getting out and shutting the door. 

I was half way across the yard, horrified at what Dagmar might have been up to all alone in my home this time, when the other door slammed.

"Hey!"

I turned and, without stopping, hissed over my shoulder, "Shut up!"

"I've had enough of that!" she declared as though she were speaking to a maid. "My name isn't 'blondie', and I don't appreciate being told to shut up!"

Now I had to stop as she hurried up to face me, her face pink with anger.

"Do you think we could deal with this another time? Isn't it enough that I had to listen to your mouth the whole way back!?"

"There's nothing to deal with, moron! Stop telling me to shut up and don't call me 'blondie'!"




Changes Ch. 05



"Hey! I don't have to listen to that shit from a spoiled little bitch like you! This is my fuckin house!" And I'll-!"

(A-hem!)

Dagmar had come out of the house and had been watching, neither one of us noticing in the rapidly heating confrontation.

"You forget, boy: This is my house. As embarrassing as that is to admit to."

"Yes, Mistress." I growled, glaring at Heather, whose anger had subsided in favour of apprehension as she watched her other abuser.

"You were almost late, boy."

"Yes.", I agreed, looking at her now.

"I could hear that idiotic, flying coffin coming for miles, it seemed. Both of you, get your asses inside." 

We both stood there, a little stunned.

"Now!" she added.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Not like that, boy! Take your time, like the girl!"

We were each rubbing one of her feet as she sat on my (her) couch. I really wasn't in the mood for this, but I looked over at what Heather was doing anyway. I swear I saw the tiniest smirk on her face as she glanced back at me. I slowed down, starting a mental list of all the things I'd rather be doing.

"Better. ... Now, what were you two arguing about?"

After a pause, during which both of us redoubled our efforts with our assigned foot, she cleared her throat pointedly.

"Just a little tension, Mistress." I offered up.

"Just a little tension." Dagmar repeated. "Girl, is that what it was?"

"He's a jerk." she mumbled.

Dagmar laughed out loud at this, one of those few sincere laughs or smiles that made my breath come a little easier.

"Yes, he's an abrasive thing. I may have to take that out of him some day if he doesn't smarten up. One thing is for sure, Mistress Crush would love to get her hands on him. Earlier today, she begged me for just two hours with him. Would you like to watch, girl?"

I froze, slowly looking up at Dagmar, knowing that, chances were, she wasn't kidding.

"Uhm- No, not if I didn't have to, Mistress." Heather responded nervously. 

"No, indeed?" Dagmar asked with twinkles in her eyes before they turned on me, then back to Heather. "Nobody told you to stop, boy."

I got back to her foot with visions of the deranged Crush flaying my balls while-

"Don't worry, boy, I said no. But isn't it sweet that the girl wouldn't want to see that happen to you?" 

After a short, very relieved pause, I figured out she wanted an answer.

"Yes."

"Don't you think you should try to be nicer to her in return?"

"Yes."

"Put a little more gusto into that, boy."

"Yes, Mistress."

"They'll be a delivery here sometime tomorrow, girl. I expect you to be here all day waiting for it."

"Yes, Mistress."

"What was your sleeping arrangement last night?"

"I took the couch."

"You will sleep in his bed with him from now on."

This time we both slowed to a halt on her feet, looking at her, then one another.

"And I want you two fucking at least once every day."

Our jaws sagged. I really should have expected something like this, though.

"Y- you mean-?", Heather attempted.

"Yes. And after tonight, I don't want you wearing any clothes while you're here, other than lingerie. You should be a proper little slut for him at all times, and just so you know, I don't allow him to wear anything beneath his pants, so you'll see when you get a reaction. Keep rubbing, you two."

We went back to her feet as she spoke further.

"I want you to let him do whatever he wants with you, whenever he wants, and I want you to tell him this now."

She froze and looked at Dagmar as though confused.

"Go ahead, tell him he should fuck you whenever he wants. Say please."

"Y- Uhh,...", she stammered, looking at me with no trace of a smirk now. "You should,... Please fuck me whenever you want to."

"There. Don't be afraid to go get what you want if he gets all shy on you. He may need encouragement. And don't worry, girl, before long you'll have a very impressive wardrobe to choose your daily, scant attire from. Now, one other thing: You will record the sexual act you have each day for me. You will both cum in these recordings and I expect to see some good stuff, since I've invested in a good camera. If I get bored, I'll liven things up myself."

The dazed look on Heather's face told me that she was now learning quickly about what Dagmar Alejandro was all about.

"Since tonight is your first night, I decided I'd help you two along a little, let you know the kind of thing I expect and how to dress and all. But more than that,... I want to make this first time special. Very special."

That wasn't a good omen, and a quick glance at Heather told me she knew this as well.

Dagmar sat back, closing her eyes and enjoying our worried attention.

"Mmmm. Do my calves now. Boy, did you like sucking the girls pussy?"

(Oh, shit!)

"Yes.", I mumbled, seeing 'the girls' head jerk in my direction.

"Heh. He's learned better than to lie, girl. It only took him the once, didn't it?"

"Yes.", I answered.

"Hm. He's learned to be pretty careful, alright. What about you, girl? Did you like sucking his cock and jerking him off in your face?"

"Ah,... I- I was turned on some, Mistress."

"Another careful one. Did you enjoy it?"

" ... Part of me did, yes." she admitted, looking down as she worked Dagmar's calf in humiliation.

"Well, I loved it. And you were so adorable in the car afterward,... Didn't you just love making me cum like that?"

I could appreciate the impossible situation Heather had been maneuvered into, could read perfectly the sudden look of panicked indecision that crossed her face.

"I, uhh,... No, Mistress.", she admitted, dropping her wide eyes fearfully.

"No? Well, that'll come, if you'll excuse my little pun. The boy loves doing it, don't you boy?"

"Yes."

"The important thing is that I enjoyed it, although I hope your technique improves. In fact,... why don't you get a little practice in now? The boy will help show you." she said, tugging her black business skirt up to her hips while slouching with an anticipatory smile. "Come, now. Take my panties off for me and make me cum."

She laughed when both of us hesitantly reached for her bright red, silk underwear at the same time, then froze looking at each other.

"Yeesss, both of you." 

We each took hold of the waistband at her hip, below the matching garter belt, and pulled them down and off with her lifting her pelvis a little to help us. When we were done, and I was hard as a rock, she spread her thighs wide.

"Come on, both of you get your little pink tongues in there. Make me happy."

I just got started, flicking my tongue at one of her lips and leaving room for Heather, who looked like she was going to cry with her mouth slightly open. But then she was there, tentatively licking Dagmar's other lip with her new Mistress's hand at the back of her head.

We both licked up and down at first, me lazily, Heather warily with her eyes held wide open. When Dagmar started playing her fingers at the back of Heathers neck, the blonde shivered and fluttered her eyes despite herself.

"Touch your tongues while you lick me.", she softly ordered, watching our every move. "Yeah. Aren't you two sooo lovely? Oooooh, yeah."

"Auhh.", Heather gasped a little at Dagmar's nails behind her ear.

"Mmmmm. That's right, Mistress can make you feel veeeery good. I can't wait for tonight. I wonder what my little- Ahh! -a,... arrangement should be? Something surprising, I think. something,... nasty. Ohh! Ohhh, yes, keep licking my cunt!"

Now I abandoned myself. Even Dagmar's words spurred me as I moved up to her clitoris and slowly circled with my tongue before kissing and sucking at it sloppily. She cried out repeatedly and pressed Heather's face to her sex harder, forcing her mouth over her opening.

"Suck me, girl! Suck me right- Ohhhh! Right there! Fuuuuuck!"

"Mmlelm!" Heather exclaimed.

"Use your tongue and su-! Ahhhhhh!! Yeah! Ohh, yeah!"

She was doing it. In fact, she was doing exactly what I'd done to her the night before and, after a minute or so, my new partner was more relaxed with the forced act. I watched her hand slowly feel its way up under Dagmar's Garter belt and, when our Mistress came, Heathers eyes were closed. 

We kept licking softly, cleaning her up afterwards while she languished, arms thrown above her, smiling contentedly as if taking a lazy, late afternoon nap.

After a moment, she drew us up on the couch so our faces were close to hers and, with a hand at the back of each of our necks, kissed us both. We both willingly returned her attentions as she grinned at us.

"Mmmmm.", Dagmar expressed. "I'm a very fortunate woman. I can't wait to show you two off at the next Society Gala. You both will need some work, but I'm sure you'll make me very proud. Well, you will, girl. This one will probably mouth off at someone."

"Mistress, I softly excused myself, "I hope you don't think I run around treating people like crap all the time, cause I just don't do that."

"You almost started a fight with that big guy at the store.", Heather countered. "I thought he was going to kill you."

"He was being a dick."

"You didn't have to say what you did."

"If he wasn't being a-"

"Children! Really!"

"I'm sorry, Mistress." Heather apologized, looking down. 

"My, aren't you easy?" I asked with a sneer.

"Boy!" 

"Well, she's sucking up and making me look bad, don't you see-!?"

(SLAP!!)

The next thing I knew, I was looking up at them with my ass on the carpet, the side of my face stinging. There was that smirk again, a little bigger even. Heather, I suddenly realized, was a survivor. A pretty, shapely, blonde trophy wife, her type married idiots like Bryan Chalmers all the time, strictly for status and to be taken care of. Now she was being taught a new way to do what she'd always done and she was learning fast, just as Dagmar had noted. She would soon forget all about Bryan, as I ironically advised her, and would cleave to the powerful woman who ruined him and took his wife as her own plaything. And where did that leave me?

"I'm sorry, Mistress." I stated in a daze, analyzing my little revelation about Heather.

She looked down at me sternly as she played at the back of Heather's scalp and replied, "Make us something to eat. Then go do something with yourself for a while, something out of my sight."

Almost four hours later, I was in the garage, welding a round end cap to a shorter, smaller piece of pipe, when Dagmar entered. I stopped what I was doing and removed the mask as her nose wrinkled at the smell of burnt steel.

"I see you have a little problem with the girl." she noted, looking at what I was doing with curiosity.

"She's not exactly the kind of person I'd choose to be friends with, let alone have sex with."

"Why? What's wrong with her?"

"She's a parasite."

" ... Oh?"

"That's right."

"You've gotten awful mouthy, boy."

"You asked. Why you'd bother, I haven't a clue. You obviously don't give a shit about me."

"Says who?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Says your actions. If I was any more than a tongue and a dick to you, you wouldn't have used me with her. The whole idea would have made you jealous, but instead you make me perform for her what I'm only supposed to be doing with you."

She started laughing, a little at first, then more as her eyes stayed narrowed and fixated on mine. Finally, she responded.

"What makes you think you have any right to any expectations where my feelings for you are concerned? Huh? For your information, I do care about you. How I show that is my business, and it's not up to you to interpret my feelings for you by the instructions you receive. You will do as I tell you, as you've been doing."

"Yeah, I know.... But, that's all you'll get. Before, I was willing to please you in a way. Before, a small part of me looked forward to your visits and, if that's the way you wanted it, I've got news for you: You blew it."

Her eyes surely widened at that. Her expression rotated through varying degrees of anger until she only turned and walked out, slamming the door practically off its hinges in the process. 

I was sure she was going to hit me again. I grabbed the liquid fuel I had stashed behind some paint cans under my (her) workbench and helped myself while I had the chance. 

Not quite a half hour later, she returned, softly ordering me to close and lock up the garage and come out to the car.

Surprised she didn't tell me to clean up and change first, I got behind the wheel with both of them in back, Heather sitting nervously, looking at me strangely and now dressed in casual, pale yellow slacks and an off white, button up sweater with short sleeves. I just drove, not attempting to break the leaden silence inside the climate controlled, luxury interior of Germany's finest, not even when we arrived at the Chalmers residence and I was escorting Dagmar to the door. 

Dagmar entered first, as she did the last time we were there, except a doubly nervous Heather followed close behind this time, looking back at me in worried frustration. What the hell was her problem? I'd wondered.

And then it hit me. Right in the gut as I entered, as it were. I sagged to the floor, just able to catch my breath enough to look up and behold,... Mistress Crush, grinning evilly down on me through her teeth.

"I tooooold you to behave."

(uh-oh)

In a flash, she had a collar on me, a choke chain. She jerked me off my knees before I could move quickly enough, choking and dragging me across the floor on my front, right on by Dagmar, Heather, and a couple of Dagmar's team members.

I could only hold on to the chain so I wouldn't be choked to death, trying to get my feet under me before she could reach the stairs. As it turned out, she didn't have the strength to drag me up them and had to stop in order to shout me to my feet anyway, so that was alright. 

Once on the upper level, she jerked my chain into a bedroom where the big black guy was keeping an eye on Bryan. There was a heavy wooden cross set up in the large room, along with a few restraint apparatuses and strange equipment. Overall, it looked like a torture chamber and, let's just say, I was already pretty flipped out at this point.

Crush pushed me down to my knees on the floor beside the hapless Bryan. He wore a diaper and baby bonnet and I could hear a sort of muffled buzzing about him. He looked at me and conveyed an expression that jumped all class differences, all tax brackets, postal codes and attitudes between men. Whatever he'd gone through the night before, it wasn't pretty.

"Cheer up, man.", I mumbled, trying to be brave. "I won't blame you for taking some satisfaction in this." 

My voice shook as I remembered the two cops and their batons,... then realized what that buzzing sound about him probably was.

Crush was on me so fast, I didn't even see her coming. She slapped the shit out of me, screaming at me to not speak unless spoken to.

"Ohhhh, you little fuck!" she seethed in my face. "I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to have this little opportunity to instruct you! Oh yes, wilder, you of aaaalllll boys! I'm going to make you cry." she giggled, then roughly jerked the chain, cutting my air off and making my eyes bulge for five seconds or so, during which time, I noticed Dagmar watching with a nervous expression from the doorway.

When Crush let go, I managed to get some air inside of my lungs, turned slightly to Bryan and croaked, "See? Th' skank likes me bettern you."

I paid for that with another punch to the gut and a few solid backhands while Crush raged from an inch away that I'd never use my dick for anything again, once she was through with me.

I was promptly jerked off my feet again and dragged to the bed.

"Get on it!! Now, now, you fuckin worm!!"

She hauled up mercilessly on the chain, forcing me along with the loop around my neck. Once facing her, I felt something hard between my legs. She was rubbing it against my inner thighs and sneering in my face.

"I'm going to do it, boy. You know I am, and it's not gonna be your mouth."

I spit in her face.

She howled and knocked me down on the bed, leaping on top of me and choking the shit out of me with the chain, this time for real as her livid, twisted features seared down on me.

"Glak.", I protested.

Panic was the last thing my mind needed to fuel the anger and humiliation, the mixed and conflicted feelings I'd been living with these last days, but it's what opened the floodgates. Before I knew it, I was doing something I never ever would have thought I'd do to a woman. 

I grabbed the back of Mistress Crush's head and butted her nose hard with the top of my forehead. Her upper body straightened abruptly, almost as though it were at the end of a whip as her hollering likewise stopped. Her eyes were wide as she stepped back, grabbing her broken, bloodied nose, beginning to holler again, this time in shock.

I somehow rolled to the other side of the bed and gained my feet, gagging and clawing at the damned chain around my neck, but I couldn't get it completely off before the big guy came around the bed for me, a little smile on his mouth.

Purely on instinct, I booted him squarely in the balls as hard as I could, thankful I was still wearing my worn, steel toe work boots. I'm not sure it was necessary, but in that instant between getting kicked in the crotch and actually feeling the results, that instant where a careless smile could disappear forever, I gave him a fast, hard roundhouse palm heel to the jaw, dislocating it easily before he dropped like a cow under a sledgehammer.

By then, I was out of control. I hopped up and over the bed, no longer even bothering with the collar, launching myself from it to body check Mistress Crush against a writing desk, knocking her to the floor underneath me. I vaguely heard a woman's voice yelling "Boy, stop it! STOP, I say!!", but I actually didn't recognize that. 'Boy' was someone else and, obviously, the unknown, now shrieking woman was his problem and had nothing to do with me wrapping the chain leash around the red headed witch's neck and pulling at all, did it?

She flailed uselessly underneath me, her anger and shock now transmuted to primal fear as my enraged expression fixed on her.

"G-laaaagk!"

"I'll fuck you up for life, you fuckin whoooore!!" I promised her, quite beside myself.

I heard Bryan sending up a weak cheer, followed by a satisfied chuckle and that's when the lights went out.

    ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

I was tumbling somewhere, as though I'd been fitted into a loader tire and rolled down a gradual incline where the bumps weren't real and the rushing sound in my ears was- Nothing.

My feelings of vertigo subsided as I looked around a pretty nice bedroom, understanding that I was lying on a bed, but not where I was or how I got there. Most curiously, Shianne was there. Didn't I leave her behind in,... Where?

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, her hand brushing hair out of my face as she sat beside my inert form on the bed. She never gave a shit before, what was with the act? And why did it seem she looked so much better all of a-

Oh yeah.

I bolted upright on the bed, rewarded with a sudden pain at the back of my head.

"Ahh, fuck!" I complained bitterly. "What hit me?"

"Never mind that, just lie down and rest until you-", Heather cautioned, putting a soft hand on my shoulder before I interrupted her.

"Aw, get the fuck off me!" Shit! Fuck, do you even know what just happened!?"

"Shhhh!" the woman who I'd mistaken for Shianne warned. "She just told me that you ran amuck and that she had to sedate you. We brought you here and she told me to look after you while she dealt with things."




Changes Ch. 05



"Sedate me? Shit, she must have used a needle the size of a ball bat."

"Well, what happened?"

"Never mind. ... No, I'll tell you what happened!" I said, rounding on her after all. "You were practicing one-upmanship and you got me in trouble, that's what happened in there!"

"What? I didn't do anything, all I knew was that she came back from the garage in a rage. She completely destroyed the living room right in front of me before I had the good sense to run into your bedroom."

"You did do something and you know it! Those little smirks while you sucked up!"

"I tried to change her mind about bringing you here! I begged her, you can't imagine the deals I tried to make to get you-!"

"Wait, wait! You knew? And you didn't warn me?"

"Well, how could I have!?" she demanded, shouting now.

"You could have done something!" I thundered.

"Oh, like what!? Blink 'DANGER' in Morse code!? Idiot!!"

"Just stop sabotaging me!! Things were under some control until you-!"

The door practically exploded inwards, putting a very effective end to our conversation. Dagmar marched right to the foot of the bed and addressed us.

"Would you two shut the FUCK UUUUP!!?", she screamed, really, really angry this time. "I can't fucking believe this! Is this what it's gonna be like, you two and your fucking bickering all the time!? Will I ever be able to take you two morons anywhere!? Girl, you know better, I know you do, and you,...!!"

At this point she looked at me and her anger seemed to subside, if only the barest fraction. I tried to look innocent.

"Fuck, boy! Fuck!" she angrily shouted at me. "They had to be driven to the hospital! I don't think Mr. Urquhardt will even be back with us again! Fuck, boy, he would have only restrained you!! Now I'll have to get another man in here, won't I!!? So do please feel free to shut the FUCK up and stop causing TROUBLE!! Do you hear me, god dammit!!?"

"Yes, Mistress, I hear you." I assured her, not daring to look her in the face now.

Suddenly she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her hard enough to shake the wall its frame was mounted in and drop a picture to the floor.

A few moments later, Heather broke the stunned silence.

"Whoa. She really told you, huh?"

"Please just don't talk anymore." I moaned, eyes closed while I allowed myself to fall back to the bed, where I could turn my back to her and cover my head with a pillow.

   ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Ummm, I cleaned up the living room as best I could." Heather offered from the back door at home.

I sat on the step with a bottle and a cigarette, looking off across the back yard where most people would have had a lawn. It was about an hour after Dagmar left in her own car, still fuming, and it was almost dark.

"Thanks.", I toned.

"Your, uhh, your movies survived. Maybe we can get a new TV and DVD tomo-"

"Forget it, I don't care."

" ... Well,... Do you want to come in and eat? I'll make you something."

"I'll get something later."

" ... Okay. Hey,..."

"What?"

"I've been meaning to say,... Thanks for getting me your coat last night."

"Whatever."

After a pause, she went back inside, blessedly without another word. What was her game, anyway? First she plays Dagmar against me and now she's being nice? But wait,... Nobody played Dagmar.

She knew what Heather was doing. She just didn't care, or she was testing me. I wondered what she thought of the results and why she allowed me to fall into Crush's hands after she assured me that she would never do anything like that to me? Was she really that precise in her words, so calculated as to not include having another do it for her in that assurance? 

A few hours later, I staggered into my room and barely managed to get undressed in the dark. I fell into bed and was aware immediately that I wasn't alone.

I jumped in surprise, slurring, "Ay, what th' hell? You sleep on th' couch!"

"We're supposed to sleep together, remember?"

" ... Fuck."

"Well, at least tonight's performance has been postponed."

"Yuh.", I grunted, trying to get comfortable, not used to sleeping with another person in my (her) bed.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Ya jus' did, but wha?" I sleepily, drunkenly invited.

"Well,... What did you do to that big guy?"

"Kicked 'im in th' balls n broke his jaw."

" ... Wow. What happened in there?"

"Nothin'. Tha' was th' point."

"She was cursing under her breath a little when we were getting you into the guest bedroom. She said she should have known better. I think she was sorry she brought you there."

I didn't reply to this.

"I hope you believe me when I say I didn't mean to,... I don't know why you're mad at me, but I didn't mean to get you in trouble. I don't know what to think. I mean, I'm pretty confused and I'm sorry if I,... (sigh) There's just this thing about the situation. I actually enjoyed what we did to her today and I just don't know about that. Remember, I said I wouldn't want to see Mistress Crush get her hands on you. I meant it."

"Yeah, 'kay. Can we tsalk about it tomorrow? Need sleep now,..."

" ... Yes. ... David?"

"Mmmm?"

"Did you, uhh, see Bryan?"

"Naw.", I lied.

She didn't need to know about what condition her husband was in when I saw him and I didn't want to talk about it. There was that strange connection between the scuzzball and I now, and I was somehow loathe to betray what little might have been left of his dignity at that point. Besides, thinking about the whole episode made me feel betrayed that Dagmar had me put there, right beside him.

"Oh. Well,... Goodnight."

"G'night." 

   ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

The phone rang the next day, just after I connected the check valve to the oxy tank via a high pressure air hose and was preparing to run a little test.

"Hello, Mistress." I greeted in a neutral tone.

"Hello, pet. Look, just for your information, if it makes you feel better, I do really care about you, like I said I do. Just because I have Heather now as well doesn't change anything, as far as that goes. I like the little talks we have sometimes too, you know, and I do like to think that you look forward to seeing me. And you should know,... It's just her, pet. She doesn't mean anything by the way she acts, so try not to let her push your buttons and make you jealous."

"I'll try not, Mistress."

"That's all it is, you're making something out of nothing."

"Yes."

"I want you two to get along."

"I understand, Mistress.

" ..... Things will be better. I promise. Just try to get along, alright? We'll straighten things out, you'll see."

"Yes."

"I'll be in touch, pet."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Have a nice day, I'll see you two when I see you."

"You have a nice day too."

"And pet,... I won't ever allow anyone to try to hurt you like that again."

Unbelievably, she made a kissy sound and hung up. 



Changes Ch. 05



Author's Notes:

(1) This chapter is fiction, in contrast to parts of the previous chapters;

(2) This is a story that has a beginning, and eventually an end. Starting a story at Chapter 5 does not permit story development. Please start there;

(3) There are parts of this that are erotic to many, and parts of it are erotic only to those that understand the cross dressing fetish as I do.

*****

That first day in the maid's dress and high heels was a long one, and there were times when I peeked outside through the pulled drapes and longed to be out there, wishing I could be, in any form, male or female. Suddenly I realized I hadn't left the house in weeks, and I hadn't really wanted to, because to do so I'd have to be dressed as a man. The ecstasy of wearing women's clothes full time had me confined to a life akin to that of a prisoner, a consenting prisoner. I was my own jailor. It was unbelievably wonderful to be accepted like this by Sarah, but I needed something else. I had to get out, get some fresh air, and be myself, whoever that was. I was confused then. I'm not now, but then I needed answers, some direction.

At the end of the day I waited as always at the door with a glass of wine for Sarah. When she entered with a grin and a kiss, I said, "Sarah, we need to talk about some things." I was still blushing and embarrassed about being dressed in the flouncy maid's dress and high heels. Also the inherent submission of being locked into them was sometimes making me cringe, but there was little else I could do if I wanted to be cross dressing with Sarah present and knowing. For different reasons however, I was not smiling at that moment.

"Uh oh, that's a loaded phrase," she said, casting a wary glance at me, "Let me get my coat off and we'll sit down with the wine right now." Her eyes flashed briefly with amusement that I was still locked into the dress and shoes and that the dress and shoes had not been tampered with.

Over the next half hour while supper was cooking, I explained my fears and my feelings of isolation.

Sarah listened with intensity, nodding her head when appropriate. "Do you want to go back to the way we were?" Sarah asked with concern and gentleness.

"You see, that's the thing; I don't. I just feel, I don't know, edgy. Maybe I need to go out to a movie or the theater or something. Would you mind...? I mean, you do seem to enjoy me dressed like this, but I'd have to be dressed in my old clothes, my male clothes, to go out of the house of course."

"Why?" Sarah asked innocently, glancing at a pot boiling a little too vigorously on the stove.

I said, "What do you mean "why?"? I can't go out dressed like a woman. Are you crazy?"

Sarah smiled and touched me gently on the shoulder. She took a sip of wine and initially it seemed like she had changed the subject when she said, "I see. The silicone padding wrap arrived. It's in the car. What if we got you dressed up with that padding underneath, and went to a bar, a nice upscale bar on 17th Avenue? You could pull it off you know, being a woman, that is."

My heart started racing. "Go out? As a woman? Jesus Sarah, I don't know..."

"Stephie, I'd be with you. You'd just have to do what I do. It'd be fun, don't you think? In fact, if you liked it, we could do it more and more so that eventually we could go shopping together, go on vacations together, all of it. Why not? You could even build the courage to go out into the world by yourself, as Stephanie. So what do you think? A good idea or what?"

I gulped. "Tonight? Outside? Dressed like this?"

Sarah laughed. "No, not in your maid's outfit! Jesus, nobody (male or female) would want to be caught dead in that! I have just the right outfit for you to wear, a dress that should accent your figure if the padding does what it's supposed to do. And I could lend you one of my purses and a coat. What do you say? Want to try it?"

I was shaking with nervousness and excitement and my voice even shook as I said, "Wow, gee...umm...I've dreamed of it, but to be out in public as the opposite sex, now that'd be weird. You'd stay with me, right? Promise?"

"Of course! But if you go to the bathroom, you're on your own, sorry. Seriously though, who's going to know? Stephanie is nothing like Steve. Now if you went out dressed up without makeup, that'd be different..." And she laughed.

Women's bathroom, I thought. How hot is that? Dressed like a woman, being a woman. Hair-raising and warped? For sure. Then I had a thought, "Wait. What if we get approached by men?"

"Easy. We're lesbians. Go away. That's all we need to say."

I took a deep breath. "Okay. All right. I'm in!" I said, and we clinked our wine glasses together.

A few minutes after supper we were reading the instructions as to how the silicone feminine padding was supposed to be placed on my skin. They went on as advertised, naturally adhering to my hairless skin, and after a few misplacements everything was in position and I pulled my girdle and pantyhose up to secure everything without risk of it falling off. Sarah had ordered the large size which balanced out my boy shoulders, and in fact made my hips slightly more broad than they were. I felt gourd-shaped. Sarah was giddy with the effect, and I had to agree; my shape was certainly female.

The dress was perfect, the classic little black dress with a hem at mid-thigh, but with a shape that made it flare outward starting just below the waist so that it draped beautifully over my new silicone hips and ass. It was long sleeved and had a scoop neckline just above my breasts. Its elasticity hugged my new figure snugly, like being nude but with a new skin, so that I felt exposed and feminine. Everything was accentuated, my hips, my bust, my ass, and tucked secretly underneath the tight layers of pantyhose and girdle was my penis, crushed to invisibility, a mystery never to be found by anyone, except Sarah of course. The pantyhose were night-time elegant hose which were very high in Lycra, creating a compressional fit and they had a shimmer to them, looking wet at times. Walking back and forth in front of the mirror, my legs rubbed together in that classic swish and whisper of satin and Lycra. My silicone breasts felt heavy, bouncing and jiggling, with the straps pulling on my shoulders as I walked. I stood facing the mirror and placed my hands on my new wide hips, excited and with butterflies in my girdled tummy.

"Jesus Sarah, what do you think? Sometimes I just can't understand myself. I'm almost breathless; I'm so excited! I actually "feel" like a woman right now...do I really look as female as I'm fantasizing right now?"

"No," she said quickly, "You still need a corset...you think you're breathless now, just wait. Sorry, but you really do need one. Your hips and ass are nice, but your waist is still too big. Don't get me wrong, you look great and you can easily pass as a woman, but if someone was to describe you, he'd be mentioning a boyish figure. Your makeup isn't right for clubbing either, but I can fix that."

Ouch! My feminine ego was put in its place. I sat at the vanity while Sarah showed me the intricacies of night-time makeup, the darker hues and bolder highlighting of the eyes, darker eyebrows and accented cheek bones. The transformation was stark in the bathroom light, but Sarah assured me that in nightclub or bar light it would be perfect. My eyelashes were so thick and long with mascara that they felt heavy, noticeable with every blink of my eyes. The bangles jingled on my wrist as I attached the long and heavy teardrop gold ear rings to my ear lobes. With every movement of my head I felt them swinging against that tender area below my ears.

Sarah stood back and looked at me with a puzzled frown and her hand to her chin. "What is it?" she said rhetorically, "Something. What's missing?" Then the confusion left her face and she reached into the drawer, pulling out some rose colored fingernail polish. Instinctively, I made a fist.

Sarah slapped my fist and said, "Stop that! Do you see many women these days without fingernail polish? Put your hands out flat."

I laid my hands out with great apprehension. Twenty minutes later I looked at them and was thrilled to see that the polish made my hands look smaller and my fingers longer. 

I stood to observe myself and realized that for the first time I was completely feminine. There was nothing out of place, nothing to give me away, nothing to outwardly distinguish me as Steve. I WAS Stephanie and it was an empowering experience. That was the first time, like I was no longer a virgin. 

I love everything about this.

Sarah placed all that I needed into a spare purse she had, a black, over-the-shoulder bag and gave me a coat to wear that was slightly tight, but adequate. I didn't have high boots, but I did have a four inch set of black pumps that seemed like flats compared to the lock-on ones I had been wearing all day. I sat on the edge of the bed brushing out my wig while Sarah got ready. The tightness of the dress kept my knees together without any effort from me. My body sang a sweet high strung cord of harmony with my mind at that moment. Those that understand, understand it well, that feeling.

She was fast, much more accustomed to this than I. Her choice of dress was similar to mine except that the color was pink (Yes, just pink. My color sense is NOT feminine) and it had a plunging neckline, revealing just a hint of the black lacy bra underneath. For the piece de resistance, she pulled on her black stiletto knee-high boots and zipped them up. The last pieces of jewelry, necklace, bracelet and earrings, all accented the dress to create an elegance I had never before seen in her. A touch here, a brush there, and her night-time makeup was done and we stared at each other. 

She giggled and I laughed nervously. We hugged and both she and I ran our hands over our bodies like they were new and unexplored. It seemed so strange and wonderful to feel our dresses slip over each other's and feel my breasts pushing against hers and I still get a thrill from that to this day. 

Sarah called a cab and we waited, finishing the last of supper's wine. When the cab arrived, Sarah said, "Are you ready for this?"

I took a deep breath and said, "Absolutely not. Let's go."

I remember that exquisite feeling vividly. The thrill was on, stepping outside that door for the first time dressed as a woman, and for the first time as either gender for many weeks. It seemed cold, but it was only the spring wind as it swirled under my coat and dress over my pantyhose and danced around my pubic area which felt exposed and vulnerable. Under the streetlight I instinctively hunched to hide my identity, my femininity. It was silly actually, as there was a chasm of a sexual divide between being Steve and being Stephanie, the person I was at that moment.

As we walked to the cab, Sarah said, "I do the talking. You just smile and nod. Stand up straight and be proud of yourself. You look great. Enjoy this; I know I will."

I was in a dream. My lips felt numb from hyperventilating, I was shaking and my knees were barely able to steady my gait to the waiting cab where the cabbie stood holding the door open for us. I smiled and nodded as I slid onto the cold leather seat, making sure to hold my skirt down to avoid showing my panties. So restrictive and coy, this women's wear, one false move and male eyes would be upon you, as his were now, not on my face, but on my thighs. He glanced back at my eyes and smiled.

I am not gay, but that was the strangest exchange of a look, to have a man want you with his eyes. My heart fluttered with the intimacy of it and I blushed under my makeup. As I slithered across the seat to allow Sarah room, I almost had an orgasm and my lips parted briefly as I gasped. This was too surreal, with the tightness and the caress of the pantyhose, girdle and the dress all conspiring to make me explode with passion. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and said to myself, "Oh my God, what are you doing? Control yourself. Control yourself!"

The cab drove away toward the bright downtown lights and I pretended to look at my smart phone to calm myself. I was so close, so very close to orgasm, and it remained there, just there, so near, waiting for me to say yes, to let it go. Chocolate cake. Weeding the garden. Mowing the lawn. Think of anything except the pressure on my penis, this situation, anything.

"Are you okay?" Sarah said, a voice out of the fog.

I couldn't answer. I did come a little bit, a teasing, broken and ruined orgasm, shuddering slightly as my hips involuntarily jerked forward. I just looked at her, smiled and nodded while taking one deep breath after another. My ears were ringing and I thought maybe I might faint, or have a nervous breakdown. Slowly the feeling went away and my breathing became normal again. I reached over and squeezed Sarah's hand as the real world came into my consciousness once again, first with her touch and next with the sounds of the street and taxi.

"You'll be fine," she cooed, "It'll all be okay. I'm really excited too. I'm hoping this is a start for, let's just say, new things."

She glanced at me with a grin. I remember that grin distinctly. It had a promise of something. I didn't recognize the full extent of it at the time, but I do now. Despite that however, I knew this was not going to be merely a night out for drinks. The whole thing smacked of changes, permanent changes, and an explosion of possibilities.

The bar was in the Swain Hotel, a local boutique establishment which was sculpted out of an old building in the timeworn warehouse district. As we pulled up to the front of the building, a greeter opened the door as Sarah paid the cabbie. Cold air rushed in and I had to stifle the urge to giggle about nothing, I was so nervous. Again, my private regions felt the cold air and I shivered with both the cold and the excitement. The Lycra and satin seemed like a perfect conduit for external stimuli, and for me, it was a reminder of my vulnerability and my insatiable sexual appetite for this cross dressing experience. I will never forget it. I still get that feeling when I'm a woman, when I'm dressed in that "just right" outfit.

We walked arm-in-arm through the door and across a small check-in area where two Japanese visitors were looking at their hotel arrangements with the shaky understanding of one not knowing the language. They were puzzled and argued about something. Our heels clicked on the large marble tiles and I struggled to keep up, concentrating on not slipping on the smooth floor. The room felt like a stage, I the actress.

Sarah was smiling, and without even changing her look, or even looking at me, she mumbled, "Head up, shoulders back, breasts out."

It was a piano bar, and when we walked in, heads turned. A man never gets looked at the way a woman does. This was my second experience of that, the first being the cabbie. Being a woman was like living in a fish bowl, men undressing you with their eyes, and I started to hyperventilate with nervous tension at the same time that the orgasm approached me again. What was going on with me, I wondered?

"We have to sit down quick," I said with panic, and then I whispered in Sarah's ear, "I think I'm about to come."

Sarah burst out laughing. "Hold on baby; we'll take this table. Then maybe I can help you, okay?"

The swishing of the fabric of my pantyhose and dress, and the tightness of all of the clothing continued to stimulate me even as I sat down, trying to concentrate on the playoff hockey game on the big screen behind the bar. Time stood still. I was sitting in a bar dressed as a woman with my wife, and I absolutely shook with blasts from my nerve endings sparking and arcing. Sarah held my hand under the table as the server approached.

"Ladies," he said, "What would you like to drink this evening?"

"We'd like a bottle of Rosemount Shiraz please."

He left and I was beginning to settle down. "Jesus Christ!" I whispered, "I was almost about to double over with an orgasm there. What the fuck is wrong with me?" My hands were shaking and I was breathing quickly.

Sarah made me feel at home as always by saying, "Nothing's wrong with you baby that isn't wrong with me too. As long as our "wrongness" has company, then we'll be okay. Now relax. Here comes the wine." She laid her hand on my thigh under the table and slid it slowly toward my crotch until I closed my legs on it, preventing any further advance. My eyes were closed as I struggled to appear normal, with my hands on the table palms down in front of me. I opened them briefly and saw my polished nails and I felt a rush inside me, as every part of me that I looked at or felt was feminine. It was odd that it surprised me. It shouldn't have, but it did.

As the wine was uncorked and poured, the piano man started. He was good at times, but mostly just adequate as he played softly and mindlessly to the men in the room. Yes, they were all men except us.

"Now what?" I asked, releasing Sarah's hand to do as it wished. She pulled it away. I wanted it back.

"Now we enjoy the evening and drink and talk I guess." Sarah sipped on the wine and glanced about the room.

"Oh shit!" she said unexpectedly, and she tried to hide her face. It was too late.

"Sarah?" a voice said, a male voice. A tall, casually, but well-dressed man had stood from two tables away and was walking toward us and behind me. When he arrived at our table he leaned over slightly to see Sarah's face which she had partially obscured with her purse. "Sarah, it is you. I thought so! What a coincidence you being here tonight! I'm here with Roger. We just finished up some late night work and decided to have a drink before we headed home."

"Oh...Gord. Ha, weird seeing you here," Sarah said, flustered.

Then there was silence as he checked me out. "And?" he asked, prodding.

I smiled and nodded, just like Sarah had told me to.

"Umm, this is Stephanie. Stephanie, meet Gord, my counterpart at Zemo Inc. We have a joint venture with them."

I remained seated, extended my hand in as feminine a way as I thought possible, and nodded once again, but said nothing. I was terrified. How bad was this going to get, I wondered?

"So," Gord said, "Are you here to celebrate something?" He stared at my breasts.

Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression.

He nodded toward the bottle on our table and said, "The wine. Is it for something special?" He glanced at my breasts again.

Sarah had started to regain her composure and was thinking fast. She said, "No, we're just out having a good time."

Gord looked at her strangely and said, "Your husband isn't with you? When we had coffee the other day, you mentioned you were married."

Suddenly Sarah's eyes sparkled and her mind decided to play. She said, "Well, that is true; I am married. Look, umm...this is my wife Stephanie."

"Really? Wow, oh, jeez Sarah, I see," he said, surprised, and with a distinct emphasis on "see". Then he caught himself and said, "I'm sorry; I'm being very rude. Hello Stephanie. Very pleased to meet you. You're as beautiful as your ...umm... your..." He drifted off, not knowing what to call Sarah now.

Sarah laughed, fully in control now. "That's okay. I might as well explain. You're going to be even more confused in a second. I'm not exactly a lesbian, you know. This is my husband. Stephanie is my husband. She's transgendered and sort of new to being a woman in public."

My mouth flew open in astonishment. "Sarah!" I said.

Gord lurched back, recovered himself, and said, "Oh, I see. Incredible. I mean, you look, umm... Now I'm really off-balance. I'm so sorry; I'm not handling this well at all. Stephanie you look very beautiful. You really look like a...I mean, you needn't worry about your femininity; I'm truly in awe."




Changes Ch. 05



I spoke for the first time and said, "Thanks, I appreciate that. It's hard."

Sarah burst into gales of laughter.

Gord didn't get the connotation and looked at her strangely. I sipped on my wine, wishing this would all go away, a stranger in a strange land.

"Umm, can Roger and I join you for a drink?"

I instantly said no, but at exactly the same time that Sarah said, "Sure. Why not?" She was devilish that night, and her eyes danced with delight at my exposure and embarrassment.

So, here I was sitting in a bar playing the part of a transgender woman with my wife and talking to two strange men. I consoled myself by drinking more wine, and lots of it.

Thirty minutes later I was just as animated as anyone else, laughing and chatting and telling stories. Then I felt the hand on my knee. I glanced with alarm at Gord, and he gave me a level stare, a glassy-eyed look either due to lust or alcohol, probably both. And he smiled.

"Sarah, let's go to the washroom, okay?" I said hastily as I brushed his hand away.

I'll never forget that first conscious decision to enter a ladies room. That was a place of mystery and now I was going in there dressed as a lady. There were no other options dressed as I was, and my heart raced as we headed in. Once inside I didn't get a chance to speak first. Sarah giggled and said, "Into the handicapped cubicle baby!" And she both pushed and pulled me in, explaining, "There are no women here but us, so let's have some fun."

I interrupted her and said, "Sarah, Gord put his hand on my knee! We have to get out of here!"

"Really? I always thought that guy was a snake, but I guess this just proves it. We'll go back and ditch them," she said, almost in a hurry as if she had done that a hundred times. "Right now I have something for you."

Out of her purse, she pulled a small stainless steel butt plug and a tube of lubricant. "Down with your pantyhose and girdle baby; in she goes."

"Sarah," I whispered, "No way that's going inside me!"

But she had pulled my girdle and hose down already and was massaging my throbbing penis. "Oh baby, what's a woman if she doesn't want to be fucked, huh? To be filled up? You want it, don't you? Say you want it baby, say you want it!"

I was leaning against the wall and gasping, and my mind was on autopilot as I said, "Jesus Sarah! Oh God, yes, okay, I want it, yes, yes..."

I writhed in fake agony as she told me to bend over, never letting go of my penis. These days my anal plug is much larger, but back then this first introductory one slipped in surprisingly easy, and I gasped with shock as it settled into the comfort spot next to my prostate. I'm sure my eyes were as wide as saucers, especially when Sarah said, "Okay, now you're a woman. Do me like a lesbian."

"What? Now? Here? Jesus Sarah! What's got into you?"

My beautiful conservative wife of six years pulled down her panties and sat on the edge of the toilet with her legs spread wide apart and she looked at me with glazed eyes, saying, "Get on your knees and do me! Hurry!"

I was overcome with the adventure and passion of this, the possibility of being caught, all those things, as I put my knees on the hard tile floor and parted her lips. It was awkward, and even after only one or two minutes, my neck hurt, but fortunately that's all it took as she squealed slightly and then moaned, with her legs pressing against my head so I couldn't hear anything, nor could I move away. She shuddered several times and I tasted a liquid come out of her that I had never tasted before. I've learned since it's a fluid that she squirts when the intensity of her orgasm is unusually robust.

Someone did come in. I heard even through Sarah's thighs pressed against my ears, the distinct click, click of high heels on the floor. Our movements froze in time as we waited, Sarah holding me at her vagina tightly where I breathed her in. The next cubicle's door opened and shut, and after some vague rustling of clothing, I heard a thunder of urine, after which there was nothing for several minutes. Sarah released my head so that I could look up at her while she made the "shh" motion with her finger. The woman next to us was texting someone. Obviously she sent it and then a response came. This went on for perhaps five minutes.

Sarah started to silently shake with giggles. Then she got up and pushed me against the wall and got on her knees, instantly taking me in her mouth. There was no common sense to this. I was lost in fantasy with the butt plug expanding my anus while she massaged my penis with her mouth and tongue. I made a feeble attempt to push her away but it was too late. The fantasy of being dressed as a woman in a woman's washroom, with an anal plug massaging my prostate while Sarah massaged my penis was too much. The last thing I heard before I screamed out was the birdie sound of a returned text to the lady in the next cubicle. I couldn't help it; I moaned and groaned and thrust my hips with the most unbelievable orgasm I had ever experienced. I think I squealed like a girl. I hope I did, as it certainly would have been more appropriate.

The next thing we heard was the rapid opening of the next stall door, and the woman fleeing from the scene. She didn't even wash her hands. Sarah would have laughed out loud except her mouth was full and her cheeks bulged. She stood up and while I was still breathing heavily she locked my mouth with hers and flushed all of my ejaculate into my mouth. The saltiness was immediately evident, and I looked at her with revulsion and astonishment. Who was this woman?

"Swallow it," she whispered, "Swallow it like a woman would, like you'd expect a woman to. Come on baby, swallow it!"

I swallowed in stunned silence as she pulled my girdle and pantyhose up over my now limp penis.

"Good girl," she said, "You make a good bitch, you know?" She had a strange glassy look to her eyes that I had never seen before, but I have seen it often since. It was one of dominance and triumph. But at that time I took it for drunkenness.

I answered, playing the part for my drunken wife, "Okay, I'm your bitch, but jeez Sarah! This was, this is crazy! My God Sarah! My God!" With the orgasm, all my fantasies had disappeared, and now I was just a man, wearing a dress, in high heels, makeup, and a wig in a women's washroom in a public bar miles from home. I was terrified.

Sarah smiled and left the cubicle to fix her makeup. I quickly realized that there was no choice for me other than to do the same. I felt so alone and vulnerable. The sexual fantasy bubble having burst, the clothing was now uncomfortable, so tight and restrictive, and the high heels were painful to wear. How could this have been my fantasy, I wondered? I followed Sarah and fixed my lipstick. Strangely, by the time I reached our table again, the massage and slip of the satin and Lycra had brought me back. I was stunned and shaky. The wine at the table never tasted so good, eliminating the salty flavor. 

Gord's hand went to my knee again. This was not okay. I looked him squarely in the eye and said, "Stop it right now." Then I resorted to male anger as I said, "Get your fucking hand off my leg! Now! I want you to go back to your table please."

His hand slipped away and he said, startled, "But I thought, umm, I thought maybe the four of us, you know, trannie, woman, the two of us..." His head swayed on his neck like he was on a sailing ship in high seas.

"No," I said, "We're husband and wife, no matter what we look like, and you have no right to think anything else. Now fuck off!"

Then it got a little ugly. He said, "Well, well, well. You fucking bitch! Who the fuck do you think you are anyway? A fucking little trannie..." And he stood up, continuing his drunken tirade. Roger tried to pull him away, but it wasn't until the bartender came over and told him to leave that he finally relented, staggering to the door.

This left Sarah and me sitting staring at each other in shock, until she started laughing. "He called you a bitch!" she said in hysterics, "Sound familiar?"

I thought the situation was over and settled in to drink some more wine. Then the bartender approached us and said, "Ladies, I've called a cab for you. You're causing some trouble here tonight and I'd like you to leave. There was a complaint from a lady that went to the washroom. Please pay your tab."

When we arrived home, we both crashed, falling asleep in each other's arms. Sarah was nude, but she told me to just take my dress and shoes off for bed so she could feel my female body. She was hammered, and just before she went to sleep her voice trailed off in an unfinished phrase, "I think I must be a..."

Over the next few weeks, I went out with Sarah on many other occasions to movies, bars, theaters, and even to one daytime festival event. We never saw Roger and Gord again, although I got accustomed to being approached by many men. We handled it differently from then on, politely pushing them away before there were any misunderstandings. Every time we went out together, Sarah always did the same thing to me in the washroom. I think I understand why now, other than the pure lust; she wanted me to experience the non-sexual aspect of being in public dressed as a woman, the vulnerability of it, and sometimes the fear, always that feeling of being lusted after.



Changes Ch. 06



CHAPTER 6 (Back to Alice)

"Well folks, that will wind up our activities for tonight, thank you so much for your participation. Now, let me go over the rules by which each of you must comply. Remember the collars are swift to correct any inappropriate act or action, and you are being monitored by video and audio at all times. First, you may talk with each other at any time you are not involved in any activity outside your cells. Any activity outside your cells will require complete silence unless you are asked a specific question, and then you are required to answer immediately, completely and truthfully, as well as with proper respect for me or any other attendant. Second, all commands will be followed without hesitation. Other than that, you really don't have anything else you have to do, because we will control everything."

"Due to the differenting kinds of treatments and the need for safeguards, Alice, you and April will share quarters, Amy you will have your own cell. Keith, you and Allen will also share accommodations, while Robert will have to be isolated. Meals and showers will be provided, and each of you will be given your own treatment and training schedules. For now, goodnight." And with that he left.

Two women assistants came in and took me and April to a shower facility. We were allowed to shower and use the bathroom, then they escorted us to a small room that had a metal bed/shelf that had a mattress extending from the longer solid white wall. That was all that was in the room. The front wall was clear Plexiglas and looked out onto a larger room. The large center room had a table, the milking machine, the exam table, lots of exercise equipment and several other items arranged at various intervals throughout it. The other rooms that held the men could be seen across the room. I assumed that Amy's room was next to ours on the same side of the room.

After everyone had been allowed to shower and placed in their respective rooms food was brought into the main center room and placed on the table. The doors to our rooms were opened and we were sent to the table to eat. It was very weird walking around with all of us totally nude, but there obviously was no other choice. Since we were not allowed to talk, the silence was eerie. Here I was with all my family sitting down to eat a meal just like we would be doing at home, except we were all completely nude. And somehow the nudity was making me horny. 

When we got to the table everyone sat down except Keith. It took just a second to see that there was no place set for, or plate of food for him. One of the male assistants was at the head of the table, and as we sat down he stated:

"Each of you will sit down and eat the meal that is set before you. Keith, however must begin his training to develop the new role and servile position that will be required of him. As you eat, Keith will be quietly moving beneath the table, servicing each of you orally as you eat. He will not be allowed to eat until each of you has been serviced to orgasm. Then and only then will he be given an allocation of food. You are not to deny him access or in any way assist him, other than giving him free and as easy access to your penis or vagina as the case may be."

I felt so sorry for him. He had never been a very dominate person, and now to see him so meekly accepting these indignities was heartbreaking for me. He was my husband, and here he was being treated like the proverbial mistreated step-child, only worse. He was already under the table, and apparently I was first. I felt his head pushing its way up between my legs, headed straight for my pussy. I felt so sorry for him, but my body was cheering this turn of events, because it wanted more attention. It didn't take him long to get to the heart of the matter, and my pussy was ready and waiting. I really didn't want to seem so eager to debase him like this, but oh how my body wanted to be pleasured. My juices were already beginning to run out or me, and he hadn't even touched me there yet. But then he did, and I almost screamed from the pleasure his tongue brought. How could I eat with him running his tongue up along my pussy lip, so lightly feathering it touch along the very edge of the exposed lip. Up one and down the other, then pressing his tongue flat he took a long flat lick up, pressing against both lips at once. At the top his tongue grazed against my quickly swelling clit, and then he began flickering it with the tip of his tongue, moving it back and forth with quick flicks of his hot tongue. 

It felt so damn good, I lost the will to care about who it was doing it or under what circumstances this was happening. I just needed it to keep happening. My eyes were closed and all I could do was sit there and let him eat me to orgasm, and it wasn't going to take long. He took his tongue and made it into a thick roundness and began pushing it up into my open hole, drawing out my flowing nectar while smashing the end of his nose up against my clit and rubbing it in small circles. I could feel my toes beginning to curl up and my hands just gripped the edge of the table. Who the hell could eat with someone's tongue doing such delicious things in your pussy. My nipples were so hard and I wanted to take my hands and play with them, to pinch and pull on them to increase my building arousal, but I knew I was not allowed to "help" Keith bring about my orgasm. It was building though, and when he brought his mouth up and began actually sucking on my clit as his teeth gently nipped and pulled on it, I went off yet again. I had never in my life had so many orgasms in so short a time frame. I barely noticed as Keith moved on down the table to April.

One by one I watched, nibbling at my food as my husband Keith used his mouth to bring his two daughters to orgasm. April was embarrassed, knowing it was her own father now licking and tongue fucking her open pussy, but she managed to keep her mouth shut and let it happen. Poor Amy however didn't fare as well. She tried to keep it from happening, which caused her to suffer the pain of several electric shocks. When she finally relented and opened her legs, tears were flowing down her cheeks. I wanted so much to be able to reach out and comfort her, but we were not allowed to touch each other outside our cells, unless given a direct command to do so. Amy was so overcome with the shame and guilt, it took Keith a lot longer to bring her climax than it should have. Finally though, her body stiffened and she cried out her release. 

As I continued to eat, Keith next had to bring the two boys to their orgasms. This hurt me more than anything I had been through so far. My husband was now being forced to suck cocks, one belonging to his own son. I could not begin to imagine the shame and feelings of hopelessness that Keith was feeling, I was feeling so humiliated I almost could not hold my head up. Keith, to his credit, never seemed to hesitate or refuse. He moved from Amy over to Allen without incident.

Allen was beet red as his father wrapped his mouth around his small cock. Allen was 18 years old and only sported a 4" cock when it was rock hard. He must not have had many, if any blow jobs in his young life, because it didn't take Keith any time at all to obviously get him to cum. Then Keith had to fellate Robert.

Robert also put up a fight, a big fight. Robert's collar had to be used until Robert passed out. This of course caused quite a delay in the completion of the meal. Finally, after they brought him back to consciousness, he let Keith suck him off. That took forever also. Finally, however, everyone had had their orgasm and the meal was as finished as it was ever going to be. The sent us all back to our rooms except Keith. Keith was finally given his meal, but it seemed to be about half as much as any of us had gotten. I felt so sorry for him, I wanted to hold him and help him, but they wouldn't let me even say a single word of support or love for him out loud. Tears ran down my face seeing how he was being treated.

When we got back into our cell, April took me into her arms and held me as I cried. She knew how I hurt for Keith, and I found such comfort and caring in her arms, I just let it all go. I had been intimate with a woman back in college, and through my emotional torment, the softness and subtle sexiness of my daughter's nude body began bringing back fond memories of my times with my lover from years ago. Before I knew it we were both letting our hands wander all over each other, and then as I turned my head to look at my lovely daughter, her head turned also and our lips met. We kissed then, for the first time, no longer mother and daughter, but two women who needed each other. Her tongue snaked out, and I let it invade my open mouth, letting my own tongue entwine with hers. As our kiss continued, building in intensity and passion, our bodies moved into each other with more urgency. The moment our nipples brushed and then mashed into each other a tidal wave of passion swept through my entire body. I wanted and needed the pleasure April's soft subtle body was offering, and my body was responding, telegraphing my need to her. We both knew we were reacting to the drugs we had been injected with, but it no longer mattered. The need was all that mattered. We fell back onto the bed lips locked to one another and hands exploring the soft yet unfamiliar curves of each other's bodies. April had taken the lead, and I was only too happy to follow along. 

Her mouth moved from mine, trailing soft butterfly kisses along my cheek to my ear. Her tongue snaked out and first flicked my earlobe, then licked and tickled behind and then even into my ear. This sent shivers of passion washing over me over and over again. Her hands were gently plying my breasts, as mine were hers. Then we were both suckling on one of the others breast, using tongue and teeth in just the right combination, teasing and toying with each tender inch of exposed skin. It was plain to see that April's nipples were as sensitive as my own from the groans and sighs she let escape as I suckled and nibbled on them. Of course my own body was responding to her slightly more forceful manipulations. Somehow she had figured out that I responded better to a little more painful breast stimulation, so she would bite down on my nipples a little harder, and was grabbing and pulling on my breasts harder than I was on hers. Her fingers would pull and pinch my elongated nipples, twisting and pinching them harder and harder. She had me panting with the desire she was building up in me. Her fingers of her other hand had found their way into my sopping wet pussy, and she had three fingers plowing into my flowing pot of honey, running in and out as well as twisting about, giving me good, full contact all through my open pussy. Her knuckles were rubbing up against my swollen clit as she twisted her hand about, causing wave after wave of pleasure to run rampant through my entire body. I was not being a selfish one though. My fingers were playing a duplicate dance of passion in her wet and willing pussy. After several minutes of her exquisite toying with my breasts, she moved on down. Her tongue and lips found my waiting pussy.

April took her tongue and danced it along my swollen labia, passing over my throbbing clit without touching it. Her teeth began to lightly nibble on my swollen lips as her tongue snaked in and out of my opening, swirling around as it went. As she nibbled, she would pull on them, stretching them out, given better access to my inner folds of tender tissue. I don't know where she learned to give such pleasure, but I was extremely glad she had, because it felt so wonderful. My own tongue and teet and lips were busy returning as much pleasure as I could. Her sweet young pussy had a very mellow, pleasing taste. I enjoyed lapping up her flowing juices, just as she was doing to me. We continued pleasuring each other, locked in the classic 69 position for a long time, both of us having had many orgasms already. We did finally bring each other over the hump, both cumming in a final release of tension and need. Then April crawled back around and we held each other, both bodies simply locked tight against each other, floating in the delightful haze of complete satisfaction.

We lay there together, all but drifting off into a peaceful and embracing sleep, when we were startled out of our mellowness by the command to enter the main room. We untangled ourselves and moved on legs made of jello out once more into the main room. There we saw Amy secured to two posts, each running from floor to ceiling and about a foot or so in diameter. They were spaced about six feet apart. Her feet were secured by locking ankle cuffs to a chain secured to the posts near the floor, and her arms were held out and a little up from her body, again secured by wrist cuffs and a chain which was also secured to the posts up near the ceiling. There were two male attendants one standing in front and to her right side, the other was behind her and off to her left side.



Changes Ch. 06



A short, squat, steel sawhorse with a horizontal piece of angle iron across the top sat on my 'level board' on the garage floor. It, along with a couple of homemade clamps, would hold the oxy bottle and I was in the middle of measuring out a small trailer frame to mount this work on when Heather entered. I looked up and almost choked.

She was only wearing panties and bra, a matching, light blue set. Her nipples just showed behind the thin material and I wouldn't let myself look between her legs. She walked closer on white, two inch, heeled shoes with an embarrassed and apologetic smile.

"Uh, yeah. I figured you'd forget about this too. I'm not allowed to wear clothes here anymore, remember?"

I nodded and got back to work, asking, "Was there something you needed?"

"Well, I was wondering if you were going out anywhere today."

"Hadn't planned on it."

"Okay, good. Uh, if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate you taking the delivery when it gets here. You'd be doing me a great big favour, and I'd appreciate it a lot."

"Yeah, I can do that. Open up the bay door so I see them coming."

"Thanks.", she said with a grateful sigh.

She moved to open the door, but began struggling with it. I couldn't help but watch her arse flex and wiggle as she strained this way and that. As soon as I started thinking about pulling those blue panties down and fucking her as hard as I could from behind, my dick sprang to life. Any faster, and I may have been impaled by it.

"Dammit! How do you get this?"

"It's fucked up, I'll get it in a few minutes." (when I could stand without embarrassing myself)

She walked back over with a slightly frustrated look, asking, "Hey, what is it with this place, anyway?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why's it such a dump? Sorry, I see you try to keep things clean and neat, it's nothing on you, I just wonder, is all. And why do you have that big piece of wood on your wall at the end of your hall?"

I patiently explained to her about the Master Bedroom, watching her brow furrow slightly.

"So, there's a whole room back there? Oh my God, that's so creepy! Have you been in there?"

"Once. I went through the floor, lucky I didn't break a leg or something."

"You actually fell right through the floor?"

"Yup. It's all rotted and falling apart back there."

"Wow, that is so weird." she commented before suddenly noticing what I was doing, asking, "What's this?"

"Probably nothing special, possibly something to blow my head off with."

"Uh huh. This is what you do, is it?"

"Now it is. I used to be a Telemarketer."

"Jeez, I should have known! Uh, hey, I'm kidding, just kidding! she amended, waving her hands when I looked at her sourly.

Crouching with her knees together on the opposite side of the board, she became serious and said, "Look, I understand you're not happy, I'm not overjoyed with the situation either, but it doesn't help to have you acting like that all the time. At least you don't have to run around in your underwear."

I regarded her as seriously as she regarded me and replied, "I'm sorry, I just don't trust you. You're an unknown variable, at best."

"Ohhh, shit. You think I was born yesterday? I'm in this like you are. It was just a couple of days ago that you were trying to make me see that. I'm sorry about the way I am, but I never meant any harm. Can't you just give me another chance?"

"You're attracted to her. She's seducing you to her ways and it isn't taking her long, either."

She looked down, a silent admission, but then looked up again. "So are you. She told me you're naturally attracted to her in more ways than one."

"But I'm resisting."

"Are you?" she asked. "Or is that just something you convinced yourself of to justify your feelings for her? If you were free to go right now, would you leave her?"

"Oh, fuck! What the hell kind of question is-?"

"You wouldn't, you won't even answer the question. It would be impossible for you to turn your back on her now, despite what you say, wouldn't it?"

" ... You'd be surprised at what all I've turned my back on, blondie. Yeah, maybe I'd want to stay, but it doesn't mean I would."

"Don't call me blondie. It sounds to me like you'd be hard pressed to make a decision either way."

"So, what's your point?" I asked, trying not to think of the fact that I was encouraged to take this woman as I wanted.

"Just that we're both in the same boat and that it's useless for us to fight one another, no matter how this turns out. Why make it worse by being at each other's throats? Besides, that really pisses her off."

"You can say that again."

"Didn't you have sibling rivalry when you were growing up?" she asked. "Wait, let me guess: You're an only child. Your behavior fits that-"

"Two older sisters, and they're some of the first things I gladly turned my back on."

"Oh. Yeah, Mistress said you were a runner. So, we're going to start over again?"

I sighed, but warily agreed to start over again.

She silently watched a little while as I drew out a pattern on the cardboard, measuring and ticking, jotting figures and drawing lines.

"You drink a lot, don't you?"

"Not normally."

"Does Mistress know?"

"I don't think so. I try not to be in the bag when I'm expecting her." 

She nodded thoughtfully and, after a pause, said, "Well,... Thanks for receiving the delivery."

With that, she left, me watching that nicely wiggling ass her whole way out the door. I'd opened the bay door like I promised and the delivery came at about half past two. The delivery guy helped me carry the familiar, plain white boxes to the back steps before he left, after which, Heather and I brought them to the bedroom.

"Oh my,... Look at all these expensive clothes! Wow!" she breathed, opening boxes and pulling out items willy-nilly

.

She also received the manila envelope, inside of which was a bank card, her own cell phone with charger, a Ladies Rolex, a collar and, of course, a folded piece of paper with her instructions, one of which was to receive from me the spare set of keys to the BMW.

"Just look at this choker!" she exclaimed, holding the collar up.

It was exactly like mine, except narrower and with red satin instead of black.

"Yeah, it's,... not a choker.", I explained.

"What is it?"

"It's a collar. I have one like it."

She looked at me with her brows raised, then handed it to me, saying, "Put it on me."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see it on me, put it on."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes at her failure to see what the collar represented, but just complied with her wishes rather than argue. I'd already had too much rye for that.

"It symbolizes her ownership of you, y'know.", I told her.

"I love it.", she stated, ignoring my comment entirely. "Let me see yours."

I took it out of the dresser and showed it to her.

"Oh my god, they match. She has style, that's for sure. Put it on."

"No.", I answered adamantly.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to.

"

"Why?"

"I just don't.", I explained, taking it from her hand and putting it back in the dresser where it belonged. (out of my sight)

She looked at hers in the mirror again, fingering its quality metalwork and noted, "You know, at some point,... I suppose these collars will probably be the only thing we're wearing together."

I walked out of the room on that thought and a fresh erection.

          ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

But the thought persisted, as did the image of her in the garage, and there was no removing it from my mind. By the next day, I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

"She called with some errands for me.", Heather reported from the couch.

She sat there, legs crossed and reading a novel, the TV and computer having been destroyed by Dagmar. She looked good enough to eat in her tight, shiny black nightie and I lingered in the living room, trying to think of a reason to stay.

"How are you doing?" I asked her.

She lowered the novel, a trash novel, it looked like, and regarded me with surprise in her expression, but replied, "I'm doing better. I wonder about Bryan sometimes,... Thanks for asking."

"S'no prob.", I said, sitting at the opposite end of the couch, suddenly sleepy and probably a little too drunk.

"Tired?" she asked.

I laughed a little and said, "Yeah. I think I'm mentally drained."

"Emotionally used up.", Heather commented a little quietly. "That's how it was for me when my mother died. After that, there was only what had to be done next. I never even noticed that until yesterday."

"Hmm. Nothing like death or Dagmar to put a person's life into perspective, huh?"

She hissed a short laugh in response, then, "David?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You were right about,... Never mind."

I looked at her, curious about what she would have said, but I didn't bug.

"I should go get dressed and get on her errands." she said, getting up.

"What's she got you doing?"

"Girl Friday stuff. What's she get you to do?"

"So far, just you."

She stopped and jerked around at this, and I couldn't help but watch how this maneuver sent her tits swaying so enticingly.

"Sorry.", I told her potentially offended expression. "I didn't mean it that way, I,... I'm sorry."

"Alright." she allowed carefully, continuing on to our room.

           ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- 

It was just after three AM when I looked at the freshly painted, flat green frame with the oxy bottle mounted on it, standing in the middle of my shop floor on a set of hastily improvised skis. (I didn't have two wheels just then) All that was needed now was a trip to a machine shop. I stood admiring the thing, smiling humorously about the skis on shaky, inebriated legs when I heard the BMW return.

I was finished for the night anyway, in more ways than one, so I shut the power off, locked up and met her in the backyard.

"Hey, you wouldn't believe the clothes Mistress has! I mean she has this huge, walk in closet that's just incredible and she showed me all kinds,... Oh wow, you're toasted."

"Naw'm not."

" ... Have you ever thought of what would happen if she were to call and want you over there pronto?"

"I tr- (urp) -try not ta."

"I'll bet you do.", she said sincerely, looking at me with something akin to wonder. Come on, let's get inside. You need help up the steps?"

"I been livin'ere before you, blondie, I do' ne-" (hic!) -no help up 'em god damned steps. You need 'elp?"

"Up the steps? No, I'm sober. And you've only been here a little over a year, you told me, remember?"

"S'what?"

"Never mind." she sighed, moving around me in her tight gray skirt and red blouse, unbuttoned since she'd left to show quite a bit of cleavage and the top of her black bra.

She opened the back door and removed a black case before shutting it and moving for the steps with me trailing behind, eying the case suspiciously.

"Wazzat?" I slurred once we were inside, gesturing to the case she'd set on the kitchen table just before collapsing into a chair there.

"It's a video camera. She showed me how to use it."

"Oh. Sorry I axed."

"If I were you, I'd worry about how you're going to explain to Mistress why we can't use it tonight." she said, walking off.

"Waddya mean?" I questioned.

"You're not touching me like that." she said, entering our room.

I got up and made my way there, bouncing lightly off the walls to stand in the doorway, watching her undress. She was just removing her blouse, showing off that nice black bra again, and I felt that old devil in my pants twitch.

"Whatsa prob'm? Not like ya love me, ya don' even like me, do ya? (hic!)"

She stopped pushing her skirt down, pausing with both hands low on her hips and baring the top of her panties, looking at me.

"I like you alright." she told me. "I mean, it's not as if we'd be friends other than this situation, and you are a jerk a lot of times, but you're,..."

"Wha?"

She slid the skirt the rest of the way down, stepped out of it and came forward, standing in front of me with a little smile.

"Underneath your dirt, ratty clothes, unshaven face, crappy attitude and yucky, cigarettes and whiskey breath, you're a nice guy. And I see what's happening in your pants, but you're not touching me like that."

"Wull git 'n trouble." I warned, trying to put some strength in my knees and stop myself from gradually sliding down the doorframe.

"No, you'll get into trouble."

"Wull,... if ya think I'm su-(hickup!) such a nice guy, how come yull lemme get 'n trouble-"

"Because I had to put up with Bryan climbing on top of me drunk all the time and I hated it. He's my Husband and I love him, such as he and our marriage is, but I won't have it from you." she said gently, but firmly.

"But what'm I gonna tell 'er?"

"Maybe we'll just make up for it tomorrow night. It might keep her happy."

" ... Kay."

"Come get into bed now."

"I was gonna stay up."

"And do what in your condition?"

"Watch TV."

"She used that to smash your computer with, remember?"

" ... Oh, yeah.... That was right uncool."

"Just get in here, Hank."

"Hank?" I asked as she grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me into our room, pushing me down on the bed.

"I discovered the CD in the Bimmer. Who rides around in a car like that listening to Hank Williams, anyway?" she asked, unbuttoning my pants.

"I do. (hick!)"

"Yeah, you said it.", she agreed with a smile as she pulled my jeans down my hips, pausing at my hardness flopping out. 

"Waz wrong?"

"Nothing.", she said, hastily getting back to work, jerking my pants the rest of the way down to my ankles and off. "It's just,..."

She stood straighter and peeled one side of her underwear down, revealing the exact same tattoo as I had.

"I got it today. I actually almost forgot until seeing yours again reminded me."

"Like the collars wan't bad n'nuff, uh?"

"Mmm. Come on, straighten up so we can get this old shirt off you."

            ----- ----- ----- -----

"Aren't you hung over?" Heather asked me the next morning over coffee at the kitchen table.

"Nope. Still a little buzzed, in fact. It's nice."

"Well, just don't go getting toasted again, at least not until,... you know."

"Yeah, okay." 

"Umm,... Have you thought about that?"

"I've been trying not to."

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not how I-"

"I know, I know. Any luck with that, though?"

I laughed a little, looking away from her carefully light expression, replying after a moment, "Some, but not a lot. Doesn't help to see you walking around like that."

"That's probably exactly why I'm not allowed to wear clothes here anymore."

That morning, she wore a pink, floral, lace body stocking that somehow covered both her vagina and nipples. Her hair was thrown up quickly, but nicely and she'd actually put on some of the jewelry she'd brought. I couldn't help but glance at her chest.

"No offense, but it's a pretty effective strategy." I affirmed.

She smiled and looked into her coffee mug.

"She sat me down last night at her place,... Well, we just talked for a while."

"Might I ask what about?"

Heather shrugged, but answered, "Bryan and some other things. You."

I nodded.

"You're not curious?" she asked, surprised at my silence as I took a healthy gulp of my coffee.

"Yeah,... It's just that I'm so tired of thinking about it. It's like being in a round house and being told the bathroom is in the corner. It'd be nice to just leave, but I can't. I can only just keep running in circles, full of hot piss and vinegar and getting nowhere."

There was a slightly heavy pause between us then and I got the feeling that there was something unsaid in the air on her part, something more than whatever they spoke of concerning me. I sighed heavily.

"Alright, what'd you guys say about me?"

" ... Well, mostly things concerning what you just said. How you feel."

"How I feel is trapped and threatened. Not much to discuss there, what else?"

"Look, don't start getting like that, okay? It was,... I wanted to tell you last night, but you were drunk. She assured me that Bryan was cheating on me, told me she'd show me proof positive if I wanted, but I didn't have to see it. I believe her. Do you?"

"Dagmar's not the kinda person who holds an empty gun on someone, even if she has to invent the bullets herself. No, she wouldn't offer up the proof unless she knew she could if you did want to see it. The only reason she didn't show you in the first place was to test your belief in her. Just my assessment, but there ya have it."

"Hmm. Yeah, that's probably true. But the point is that he did, and that they all knew about me. How that makes it worse, I don't know,... Maybe because they were kept women that he was supporting with all of his ill got gains,... Anyway, that whole life is gone now. It would have gone up sooner or later, at least this way I'm insulated, like she said."

"Uh huh. She tell you where she works? What she does there?"

"I picked her up there. G.M.A., right?"

"Yup.", I answered, swirling the half cup of coffee. "Means 'Global Marketing and Associates. It's an outbound telemarketing firm. You know, those annoying bastards that keep calling in relation to your credit cards with unbelievable deals on accidental death and dismemberment insurance?"

"Okay, so?"

"So you're dealing with somebody who really knows her shit, who knows that all of life is a sell. I used to work there myself and I guarantee that, if I called you, you'd buy. If she called you, you'd be asking if she had any additional policies that you could buy as well."

"I'm not buying anything from her.", she said. And I always hung up on telemarketers right away. Bryan,... told me to."

"Of course he did. I expect he started out in sales. You know the difference between a salesman and a con-man?"

"What?"

"Scruples.", I told her, taking another gulp of the wonderful, life giving coffee. "In different measure. For example, some people couldn't do telemarketing because they're afraid to bug people, to verbally rough them up a little if it came to that. I did it and became very good at it; I made an old man cry once." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" 

"Your Husband, Bryan," I continued, "he takes peoples life savings. Fewer people have so few scruples, especially when it comes to ripping off the I.W.K., although I gotta give him points for style on that one." 

"Then there's Dagmar. Do you honestly think she's above using her very persuasive talents in the things she does? You honestly think there isn't some fine print you're missing? Maybe around the part where you're 'insulated'? You doubt what I told you about Bryan and what's really going to happen to him?"

There was a long pause as she sat there, refusing to look at me, looking out the window instead at the occasional car passing out on the main road.

"I'm getting a divorce from Bryan." she said quietly, out of the blue.

"She'll be so happy to hear that."

"Mistress is already seeing to it. It was her suggestion and I agreed. He has to go away, it's what's best for me."

"Yeah,... didn't you say last night that you love him?"

"I do, but he ruined us, could have ruined me. I had no idea he was doing any of that at all, David. None at all. And he even used accounts under my name to do it. And the women,... But he did take care of me, you know. We were married and, even though it was all a house of cards,... well, he did take care of me. So, of course I still love him in that sense, but you know,..."

"You're going to stay with Dagmar, aren't you?"

Of course she would. I knew she would. She was the trophy wife, the pretty girl from suburbia who wanted better things for herself and had gotten it, whatever road she had to travel to get to Bryan. And now that Bryan was no more, she had to move on, and who better than the woman who brought him down and saved her in the process? She was a spoil of war and she knew it, loved it. And she had nowhere else to go.




Changes Ch. 06



She shrugged, nodding at the same time.

"It's safest for me. Plus, I like her in a way. I like doing things for her; she's so pleasant when I make her happy, you know?"

"Uh huh." I sighed. "I gotta tell you, that wore off for me when you came along and, I also gotta tell you, that I don't think you can know what you're getting yourself into."

"She said you're jealous. Threatened."

"I don't wanna talk about that. That's between me and her and there's nothing I can do about it anyway. If there was, I'd still enjoy pleasing her, wouldn't I?"

"You think I'm weak minded and naive, but I'm not."

"Not at all. You know a good thing when you see it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I threw back the rest of the coffee and got up, regretful that I'd gotten into it. I'd decided that I wouldn't talk to her for this very reason, yet there I was doing it because I now wanted her body in addition to Dagmar's, and that was definitely not helping my situation.

"Never mind, I'm just being a jerk again. I'm sorry."

I put the mug on the counter, checked to make sure I had Dagmar's cell phone, and walked out the back door without looking back. 

"Conversation over, huh?" Heather said, silhouetted in the sunlit doorway of the darkened garage a few minutes later.

God, she was hot, and damn that Dagmar for not letting her wear clothes!

"Heather, I didn't mean anything by that, okay? I know what you're about, I respect you and I even understand you, but I'm just different. We have different goals here."

"And what goals would they be?"

"I want my life back, you don't."

"I no longer have an old life to go back to. I do have the right to make my own decisions on my future."

"But are you?" I asked, picking up two pieces of pipe from the workbench.

"She's given me a choice at every turn."

"There are no choices in life, only the direction we see as right for us. Any other direction is a mistake, or unintended."

"How very deep."

"It's how you got here, isn't it?" I asked, squeezing by her, thrilling to how her boobs dragged across my chest as I did. "Are you making a choice, or are you perpetuating a mistake? Are you going in the direction you feel is best for you, or are you just continuing off course? The course she's laid out for you and rightfully expects you to take as she herds you."

I shut the door and walked towards my car, not waiting for an answer, but getting one as I loaded the pipe in the hatchback.

"Or, maybe you're right. Maybe I do just know a good thing when I see it."

I dropped the hatch and turned to look at her, saying, "I guarantee you, you ain't seen nothing yet, blondie.", before moving to the driver's door.

"Stop calling me blondie! And where are you going?"

"Some errands of my own, you need anything?"

We looked at each other for a few seconds before she walked over in her obligatory high heels, right in front of me where she looked me in the eyes.

"I need to be taken care of. I need to know I'm being taken care of, and I need to be secure and happy in that. Mistress provides that for me better than Bryan did, and I choose to stay with her. I'm sorry if you don't approve, but there it is."

"I'll keep that in mind." I said, turning and opening the driver's door.

I was inside, the engine started and about to get turned around when she came closer, leaning down with her forearms on the door's open windowsill.

"Will you please also keep in mind that I'm not your enemy?" she asked, offering a small smile with her request.

"Not yet, you're not."

"Hey, you have your little talents, I have mine. I told you I wasn't born yesterday, don't judge me before you've seen me in action. I just need a little time to get my feet under me here. Look, she said I could go and get some stuff from the house as long as you went too, but we're not to use the Bimmer cause it's not her business, so,... Do you mind?"

"No, I guess not." I sighed, not looking at her.

"So you're not going to be all day, or anything?"

"No, blondie."

"That's great,... frenchie."

I laughed out loud despite myself and even looked at her and her very nicely displayed bust, saying, "That is so lame! Is that the best you could do?"

She laughed a little herself and admitted, "Being offensive doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to you. Go on, drive careful and think about what I said.

"Now I'll just be thinking about your tits."

"Oh? Do you want to play with them before you go?"

" ... What?" I asked, still laughing a little.

"Would you like to see them?"

She didn't wait for an answer, instead took the stretchy neckline of the bodysuit and hauled it down until her melons fell out. Her smile widened as I looked at her erect nipples and my prick rapidly hardened.

"I can't believe I just did that.", she said with a little laugh. 

With a smile of my own, I drew her into the car a little further, took one of her breasts and put its nipple in my mouth.

"Mmmmm. I can see your cock getting hard. I suppose you're going to make me suck it later, aren't you?"

Heather was really turning me on now, and I had to force myself to release her breast.

She backed out of the window and straightened, still smiling with her tits dangling free in front of me as I distractedly searched for reverse gear, saying, "Just do me one little favour, eh?"

"What's that?"

"I'll think about what you said, you think about everything I've said, too, alright?"

She nodded and we left each other with our smiles as I backed out.

Damned women.

            ----- ----- ----- -----

When I returned with my machining done, restocked with whiskey, some beer and finally with the haircut Dagmar had earlier demanded, she was more or less ready to go and harangued me out the door again before I could even get one beer in me.

"Why don't you wear the clothes she got you?" she asked when we reached the city.

"I never have a need to dress up, except for when she calls. The rest of the time, it would be kinda inconvenient for me."

"Well, you look good in them, you should try to wear them around more often. I love the ones she got me."

I had to admit, I did too. At the time, she had on a very (very!) short, billowy black skirt, the kind that would easily be ruffled in a breeze. A tight, white cammie was covered by a short, black, unbuttoned blazer. Her hair was down, and she was smiling as we moved along.

"Um, are you wearing a bra?"

"No. Keep your eyes on the road."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Were you,... I mean, before Dagmar came alone, were you, uhh,... into sex?"

"'Into' it?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you seem different."

"In what way?"

"Never mind. It's none of my business anyway.", I said, wanting to back out of what had become an awkward question, partly because it really wasn't my business and it made no difference to me one way or the other.

"I adapt." she said simply. But, I like great sex as much as anyone else. I never would have thought of myself having sex with a woman, but,... Well, like I said, I adapt. Last night, when Mistress told me to suck her pussy for her, I didn't mind it so much. In fact, once I got going, I liked it. It turned me on."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No. Should it?"

"I don't know, I was just asking in relation to myself."

            ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Hi Mistress." Heather said naughtily, pointing the cam at herself, waving cheerily.

"Don't drop that fuckin' thing, or she'll break your back!" I called, trying to wrestle the large, flat screen TV out of the backseat of my car. "Would you come and help me with this!?"

"I'm recording, you idiot!" she hissed.

I rolled my eyes, entangled in the seatbelt while the passenger seat slowly fell back.

"I mean it, I've got problems here!"

Okay, okay, you big baby." she said, walking over while still recording. "We have to learn how to use this, you know."

"What, now?" 

She untangled the seatbelt and hauled it and the seat forward for me, cam almost right in my face as she recorded the whole momentous event for future posterity. She was at least thoughtful enough to get the screen door for me as I lugged it inside. 

After several trips to the car and back for a DVD player, her makeup, more jewelry, blankets and pillows, a legion of stuffed animals and, of course, all of her lingerie while she filmed the whole thing, I stopped at the fridge for a beer.

"You're sweating." she said, standing at the doorway, still pointing the thing at me.

"No duh. When are you gonna put that thing down?"

"Well, I think that Mistress would like to see more than just our horizontal shuffle, don't you?"

"Well,... Go film something else, why don't you?"

"Why?"

"Because it's bugging me.", I said irritably.

"Oh, don't get in a snit." she said, taking the cam away from her face, setting it on the counter and aiming it at the table with the digital screen.

"Get another, I'll sit at the table and have one with you. I hope they're nice and cold."

"Yeah, they're cold." I sighed, willing to settle for this. 

I slid the unopened can in my hand across the table at what had become 'her place' before grabbing another for myself. Eying the cam distractedly, I sat across from her.

"You should use it next, after you cool off. Pretty hot out there, huh?"

"It'll cool off soon, when it gets darker."

"Can we set up the TV and DVD tonight?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I like it out here." she said. "Not this old trailer, I hate this dump, but the location is great. We could have bonfires out back with real flame broiled food, even invite Mistress."

"There is a certain freedom to living out here, but the half hour ride to town is kind of a drag."

"Even with me along?" she asked, batting her eyelids comically.

"No, it's better with you as long as you're not harping at me."

"But just think, now you can tell me to shut up and suck your cock when I harp and I'd have to do it.", she laughed.

"Umm, yeah, I guess I could, but I wouldn't."

"Why not? I would think that would be most men's dream."

"Ideally? Yes, but,... Well, maybe I would after all, come to think of it,..."

"No, you wouldn't and I know why."

"Why?"

"Mistress told me you have a lot of respect for women. You'd just let me harp and harp forever."

"But, you'd rather I tell you to shut up and suck." I assumed.

"Maybe.", she shrugged, teasing.

"Do you like sucking cock?"

" ... Yes. My nipples are all hard now just thinking about it."

" ... Heather,..."

"Yeah?"

" ... Come over here."

I rose to meet her, took her hand as both our smiles became smaller, but more personal. I gestured for her to hop up on the old, wooden dining room table and she obliged, sitting with her legs closed, feet up on my chair and looking at me expectantly as she smoothed her skirt on her lap. She showed a lot of upper thigh as I leaned in close from her side.

"I've never even kissed you yet." I said.

"Now would be a good time, then." she coaxed.

So I laid one on her, a good one too, soft and lingering.

"That was nice." she said. "I think I want another."

Again, I obliged, lingering much longer this time before breaking away with my heart hammering and my dick rock hard in my pants again.

"You have a really sexy mouth. I love it, it's one of the first things I noticed about you." I admitted.

"Flatterer.", Heather said just above a whisper.

"It's true."

"Prove it, then. Put some French in me."

She giggled wickedly as I tried to discern that comment.

"How do you mean?" I asked playfully, spreading one of her compliant legs.

"You know the rules, cowboy. That's all up to you." she said, spreading her other leg.

I took the hemline of her mini-skirt in my fingers and casually turned it back as she watched, fully uncovering a small pair of white panties that barely covered her entire genetalia. 

Heather looked back up at me, then down at my pants, at the bulge there. She reached out and grabbed it through the black denim, squeezing and rubbing a little before looking back up at me, lips parted and eyes begging.

I put my hands directly between her legs and caressed her pussy, hearing the delicate smacking of her wet lips, seeing for the first time the trickle that ran towards her anus.

"Ooooooh! Ahhhhhh, yess. Mmmmmmm."

I bent and took the nape of her neck in my other hand, under her hairline and kissed her again, like the last time as we lustfully re-explored each other. She spread her legs further, sticking her chest out and leaning back a little as my tongue asked entry at her lips. It was granted and the zipper at the front of my jeans fell as I poked around in her mouth, caressing needfully with my hand at the back of her neck and pulling her closer.

"Mmmmm. Uhhhmmmmmm!" she hummed, putting her hand in my pants.

"Ahhh! Oh, let me suck your cock now, baby. 'Kay?" she begged. "Ohhh, yes. Oh! Give me your,..."

I climbed up on the table at her side and on my knees, my hand returning to her crotch afterward and rubbing, harder and slower. She undid my pants the rest of the way and got my swollen prick out as her pelvis twitched to my touch. I jumped in her hand as she stroked me slowly, staring at it while gasping and sighing. 

She leaned forward and kissed my tattoo, licking it and sucking briefly before turning those acts on my balls. With her other hand, she stroked my forearm as I dipped my fingers inside the white material between her legs, dragging over her erected clitoris and down between her lips. She stopped stroking and squeezed my wrist when two of my fingers slipped up inside her canal, making her keen a high note as she went down on my cock.

She was good in front of her husband, whether she knew it or not, and she was even better now that she was apparently given over to it. She took my dick out of her mouth, stringing a long, thick line of her saliva, allowing it to run down my balls where she caught it with her tongue, licking it up while looking at me. 

Her eyelids were slitted as she now bucked into my hand, saliva on her cheek and chin as I lightly circled her clitoris with my thumb, fingering her at the same time. She popped me into her mouth again, taking as much as she could, trying to deep throat me, doing it on her third attempt and leaving it there as her other hand now joined mine in her panties.

Her throat made those great little choking sounds as I took a fistful of blonde at the back of her head. I pulled back and gently fucked her mouth while she picked up the rhythm.

A short time later, I was getting close and I could tell she was as well. She was really something with her legs spread as wide as she could get them and sucking my rod like it was her last meal, like the slut that Dagmar had told her to be for me. And she loved it.

Sure enough, when she came, she made that squealing wail sound that I really got off on and could never quite describe. I came at the same time, hauling her head back by her hair, crying out in those blissful moments as she jacked me into her squealing face, over those lips and into her open, orgasmic mouth. I'd forgotten she was quite a squirter herself and watched it cascade and splash around our fingers and out from beneath the front of her now thoroughly soaked panties.

When my own jism finally stopped spurting over her face, I kept doing what I was doing down there. She did as well and, after another half minute, Heather had yet another orgasm, this one making her jerk and writhe almost uncontrollably with my still hard cock in her hand.

She went slowly limp and, with a dazed expression, allowed me to lower her to the table. I sat on the edge and coughed, grinning and in a daze of my own.

          ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Is it on?"

Yes, it's recording, just point it with- no, not like- what are you doing!?"

"I'm recording the time." I explained, pointing the stupid cam at the nine dollar wall clock that had somehow survived the carnage of Dagmar days before.

"You stupid, crazy Frenchman, the time and date is on the video!"

"Whatever, I don't use this shit! And I'm not a Frenchman!"

"Then just listen to what I'm telling you!"

"I don't know why you want to record us setting up the TV anyway, it's stupid as hell, she doesn't wanna see this crap."

"I told you, she doesn't just want to see us screwing! She'd appreciate something like this, can't you just let me do something nice for her!?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, instead of acting like a doofus, I actually talk to her and get to know her, that's how! You should try it sometime, Mr. Mouth!"

"Aw, gimmie a fuckin' break, I'm not that ba- what're you doing?"

"I'm smelling your breath!"

"Get away from me!"

"I told you before, I'm not letting a drunk boff me!"

"Oh my god, I just had another beer, alright!?"

"Well, don't have any more, she won't be happy if she sees you blundering around, tripping over your own knuckles!"

"Oh, veeery funny, blondie, ha fuckin ha! Y'know, I've had girlfriends like you! Spoiled little elitist bitches with the same sense of entitlement!"

"Go fuck yourself, Frenchman!" she yelled.

"Shut up!" I yelled back.

"You shut up!" she returned.

It was all so pointless. I closed my eyes and tried to regain control over myself as she grabbed the cam out of my hands.

"Now look, you hold it up here at eye level so the perspective's right! Don't hold it like you were, halfway down your chest, it'll look like-!"

"I think I can figure out how to point the fuckin' thing, I'm not a child!"

"Well, if I didn't tell you, this would have looked like it was recorded by one!"

"Yes, okay, I get it, eye level, eye level!"

"Great, just stop shooting the stupid clock, and we'll be all set! Look, just film me from here, we'll erase this part later! Okay!?"

"Whatever!"

(it was a good plan, unfortunately we forgot to do it)

Heather stood in front of the camera, cleaned up from our previous session, wearing the sexiest maid's uniform I've ever seen and cleared her throat. Then she instantly transformed her face with a slightly too bright, yet sincere smile and greeted Dagmar.

"Hi, Mistress! We're here setting up the TV and DVD player from my old place and, as you can see, I now have a camera man. He's cute, too, and I think he's hot for my body. Anyway, he's got everything all set up and all the cables set out, so now I'm going to do the do."

"I thought you wanted me to hook it up."

"No, just to set it up for me.", she corrected, wiggling that bitchy ass of hers to the TV with the whole bottom half of it hanging out of the black, lace skirt. "A lady shouldn't be sweating and doing hard work like that when there's a man around to do it. Besides, your old setup was a mess until I got here, you obviously don't know what you're doing."

"What about women's lib, equal opportunity and all that stuff?" I challenged.

"Well, baby, that's a lot more flexible than you'd think."

"How convenient."

"It works for me, yeah."

It took her a little under twenty minutes to set it up to her standards, 'synchronizing remotes', and such. (whatever that meant) The entire time, her cleavage and ass was hanging out for both me and the camera, turning me on like crazy and proving her sex appeal to be as strong as her bitchiness. 

I wondered, how did I keep coming up with women like that, anyway? Were all women like that now, or was I really just a big jerk who pissed them off until they wanted away from me? Even worse, what if it meant that everything Dagmar had said about me really was true and that I was doomed to women like this for the rest of my life?

"All done. Now, you go on and change into your nice clothes and come back out." she said, taking the camera from me with a pleasant smile. "Go on, I have a surprise for you when you get back." she said, pointing the cam at me now, effectively chasing me to our room with it.




Changes Ch. 06



When I came back out wearing the black dress pants, black button up shirt with the white, sleeveless undershirt beneath that she'd laid out on the bed for me, there was soft music playing, Diana Krall, I guessed, and she was looking me up and down, smiling approvingly. 

While I was changing, so was she, as she now wore an ankle length, deep purple, lace nightgown. It fell just short of her high heels and was opaque, showing off her nipples somewhat. The eye popping garment only had one button in front, just under her delicious tits and, through the lace and the part in front, I could see the low cut, black panties she wore.

"Do you like dancing?" she asked.

"No, I don't know how." I said, feeling myself stiffen up, sure she could see it too.

"I knew you'd say that. It's alright, though, we'll just be slow dancing and that's easy. Come here, I'll show you."

"Okay, I've done this." I said as we got going.

"Yeah?" she asked, moving closer and slipping her arms over my shoulders, smiling happily, despite our bickering. "Where'd you learn?"

"Bars."

"That's not the best dance to meet women with."

"I know, believe me. You look really great, Heather. You smell nice, too."

"Thank you. I brought some of my choice perfumes from the house."

" ... I'm sorry I was shouting earlier."

"Me too. It just seems like you've been under a rock for the last ten years or so, sometimes. By the way, you smell like must." she added with a giggle.

"Must? I do?"

"I've noticed it before. It's not a bad thing, but curiously fitting for you."

"So, I smell like an old book from some old man's basement?"

She laughed a little and said, "It's okay, I like it. It's you. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure.", I allowed.

"What put you in that life? I mean, moving from city to city, what is it with that?"

"Well,... You know, it's like when you've gone to a nightclub enough times that you know everybody and the newness wears off and starts to leave memories in their place. There's people you have to avoid, the little dramas that play out, your rep, blah, blah. You just use the place up and it's time to start going somewhere else, ya know?"

"Oh. Well, I can sort of see that in a nightclub, but I have trouble applying that to a whole city."

"I don't know, I just get that feeling sometimes. It's almost a panic inside. When my whole life seems like a mess. There's just this freedom and relief on the highway, endless possibilities seem open and I feel like I'm reset. Happy."

" ... You'd just dump a whole life? Job, friends, girlfriend, routine, security,... everything?"

"It's never been a problem. I'm highly employable even if I don't want to work for myself, but as long as I have enough to get a shop, I can earn three or four months' rent on that shop within the first month. I don't normally make friends beyond loose acquaintances and, as for women,... well, they never last anyway. If anything, they end up being a good reason for moving on."

"What's the longest you've ever stayed somewhere?"

"Two years, eight months, Fort McMurray."

"You liked it there?"

"Fuck, no, I hate the prairies with a passion, I stayed for the wages."

"Shortest?"

I smiled and told her, "Four months, a place called Quispamsis."

"What happened there?"

"It was a shithole and the people there were idiots, but also because I was kinda hammered one night and I accidently put my winter car through a light standard in the trailer park I was living in at the time. Cut the pole right off and kept going."

"What happened then?", she asked with a grin.

"Well, there were witnesses, but there was also enough confusion with what all the different witnesses allegedly saw to delay the cops and their 'investigation'. So, in order to avoid any un-necessary trouble, I had a yard sale the next morning and was gone by Noon."

"You are a crazy frenchman." she laughed.

"Would it surprise you if I told you that I can't even speak French?"

"What!? Oh, pissy! I wanted you to whisper sweet nothings in my ear in the language of love!"

"Oh, god!" I complained good naturedly. 

"Where are you originally from?"

"Fredericton, New Brunswick." Yourself?"

"Oshawa."

" ... So, what's your story? How does a girl from the Oshawa suburb end up here?"

"Well, it's not as adventurous as your story. I just didn't want to end up spending the rest of my life working behind the cosmetics counter at Sears. I moved here when I was twenty two, hoping to become a journalist. That didn't work out and the next thing I knew, I was working at the Cosmetics counter at Eaton's."

"Jeez.", I said commiseratively.

"Yeah. It was kind of a low point for me, that's for sure. But I stuck it out. I took a few courses, but they went nowhere and, by the time I was thirty, I figured the best I'd ever do for myself would be to marry a man with money while I had any looks left at all, otherwise I'd end up right back in suburbia. Full circle, you know?"

"Uh huh."

"It was such a dark and drudgerous existence in that cheap old house, the same as everyone else's and with this filth of nowhereville all over it. I actually feared ending up back there, but my only other alternative was stripping, and even that option was slipping away year by year. So, after some unfortunate trial and error, I met Bryan and, well,... Here I am."

"I grew up in suburbia too. Can't say I blame you, obviously. You ever talk to your family?"

"No. My older Brother was already married and starting out in another little shit house in another depressing old subdivision and my little sister was too young at the time to take it seriously. I do kind of feel bad about her sometimes. Dad was pretty strict and not very happy after Mom died,... He said some pretty dirty things when I left, so I never bothered getting in touch."

"You never wanted to go back, even when you were feeling your worst?"

"No. God, no. You?"

"No.", I said, remembering again Dagmar's e-mail to my sister and stressing a little.

"Hey, relax. You just got all stiff, and I don't mean that thing that's been poking my hip."

I laughed quietly, actually relaxing and noted, "So, we're both runaways."

"I guess so. But, you've run a ways further than me. And you've never stopped."

"Yeah, well I seem pretty stopped up now."

Heather shot me a brief, sad smile and laid her cheek on my shoulder.



Changes Ch. 06



Author's Notes:

(1) I assure my critics that the two involved herein love each other and have found a way to make it even more powerful. The psychology is complicated.

(2) This is an evolution of power exchange in a relationship. Start with Chapter One. The "missing links" are in Chapters three to five.

(3) My apologies for the short chapter. There will be more.

*****

I said in the last chapter that at that time I felt complete as a woman, at least in appearance. I was wrong. Sarah set me straight again, taking me to a local and respected corsetiere to get measured for a custom corset. Despite my adventures of late, and my increased comfort at going into the public as a woman, I found this rather uncomfortable and embarrassing as I stood in front of this strange, emotionally detached lady, almost nude except for my bra and panties.

After several measurements were taken the lady said, "Now, I assume you'll want a female waist and not your male waist, so I'll measure to here." She placed her finger on a spot above my hip bones and just above my belly button. "And I also assume you'll be wearing this silicone padding, correct? I'll be extra careful here. The fit has to be perfect so your lower ribs can gradually become accustomed to being tightly laced. You are going to do full-on waist training aren't you?"

I shrugged, looked at Sarah, and said, "I, uh, I don't know, I guess so... Am I?"

Sarah, looking up from her iPhone, said absently, "Yes, she is."

"And the styles and colors you want would be?"

That's when Sarah really stepped in and said, "I want two pink or white, brocade and satin. Back-lacing, contoured under-bust style with six garters. And one cooler summer mesh style as well, since summer is coming on." She smiled at me and continued, "You're going to look so cute!"

I must admit, I was very excited, and when we got home afterward, we chatted incessantly about what my shape was going to look like and the new clothes I'd be able to wear to accent my waist. It was Saturday and warm and sunny, so we played some scrabble out on the deck until the sun disappeared behind the big oak tree.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Sarah said, "You know, I don't know how big your cock is."

"What?" I said, amused, "Isn't it big enough for you?" She could say the darndest things sometimes.

She giggled and said, "Oh yeah, plenty big. But I want to know so I can brag to friends."

"Don't you dare! Besides, all they have to do is look at my feet," I said, laughing, "They know already."

"Seriously, come in and strip off your panties. I want to measure you."

"You're crazy," I said, but I went into the bedroom and pulled my panties and girdle off while she went to the refrigerator in the kitchen presumably to get a drink.

I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the foreplay to begin, because I figured, why in hell would she want to do this unless it was part of some game? Naturally I was semi-hard already as she entered.

"No, silly. Soft. Calm down there stud. I want to measure it soft first, get some statistics. Maybe I'll write a book." She was giggling when she placed the bag of ice on my crotch and I screamed.

"Jesus Sarah! You could warn a fella maybe!"

It worked. I was tiny within seconds and she proceeded to measure the circumference and the length, as well as the circumference of the area between my body and my "package". Her fondling naturally made it grow and now she encouraged it to do so until it was like a small tree. The measurements were repeated and she wrote them all down with glee.

"Fantastic! You're a grower, not a shower."

"Is that somehow important to you?" I asked, "Does it matter in the end?"

Sarah answered with an aura of teasing mystery, "For some things, yes, it does. For some things, it matters a lot. But you really don't need to know those things right now, do you? Lie back; I'm in charge here."

God I loved her. She stood over me at the foot of the bed and started to peel her Lulu Lemon tights off, followed by her panties. There was no foreplay or talk as she climbed up on the bed, towering over me like a Goddess, and rotating her hips hypnotically, slowly lowering herself toward my cock which I eagerly held in a vertical position for her to engulf. I raised my hips in desperation to have her but she pulled away while at the same time putting her hands on my breasts, pushing me down. 

Then she took me. That's the only way I can describe it. She took me. There was a power to her that had been growing for weeks and months now. She enveloped me within her and crushed me down at hips and breasts so that I couldn't move. Her eyes were glued to mine and her lips were parted as she continued to rotate over me, grinding slowly until her breathing quickened and I knew she was close, so I was close too.

As was often the case now, she suddenly pulled away and gasped just as she plunged down again, "I'll tell you when. Only then...oh, God, oh God...only then. I'll. Tell. You..." She licked her lips. "When. To. Come." She slowed down, teasing herself as well as me, lingering long in spots of fleeting touch, savoring the delicious friction. But she picked up the pace eventually as she plunged down and rocketed up over and over and over. "Yes," she panted, "Only...then, only...yes oh God, oh God, I'm coming...now, come NOW!"

And I did. I bucked and screamed as she did the same, and we soaked our clothes with the sweat of the summer afternoon. 

Her command was like a trigger, and it was her training method I guess, and now I never come unless she gives me permission to do so. Her control was becoming absolute, and from then on whenever I have been permitted orgasm, it has been simultaneous with hers, an unbelievable experience worth every month, week, day, hour, minute and second of waiting. And I have had all those excruciating waits, every one of them.

She collapsed on me, our breasts cushioned against each other's as I shrank inside of her. "I love you," I sighed, "Oh God how I love you."

She whispered, "Oh Stephie, I love you too. So much. Where oh where has Stephie been all these years? But shh now..." And she lifted herself up and placed herself on my mouth so that I could clean her and make her come a softer gentler way, a child of my reverence and submission to her. After a few moments, she shuddered and then fell away, slumbering in the warm and lazy afternoon.

I laid there for a few minutes adrift in bliss, and then got up to make supper and uncork a nice Pinot Grigio. There would be more sex later tonight. There always was now. There were no secrets. Or at least I thought there weren't.



Changes Ch. 07



CHAPTER 7

"At the meal this evening, Amy, you willfully failed to obey a command, and it was required to bring about corrective action. Now you must submit to the punishment that will always accompany any failure to obey. First, you will be disciplined, then, in this case, additional punishment will be meted out to Keith. This should remind you not to fail in your immediate obedience again. Your body will receive 12 lashes from the hand of our Enforcer. You will count out each stroke, followed by 'Thank You Sir!' failure to immediately respond upon the landing of the strike will make that and all previous strikes void, and he will start over. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Very meekly from Amy.

"Upon completion of your punishment, you will be released and Keith will take your place. He will receive an equal number of strokes, in total that you received, so if you fail to respond verbally and cause the count to start over, Keith's punishment just grew along with yours. There are two instruments to be chosen from for each of your punishments. Keith will choose yours and then you will choose the one to be used on Keith." With that said, Keith was led up to a small table beside the one post. The first instrument was a riding crop that had five thin lengths of leather, each about 3-4" long fanning out from it's flared end. The second was a long whip device that then split into three long leather strands. Each of these strands had been soaked and were dripping wet. Both looked very painful, but Keith chose the riding crop. Amy could not see what had been chosen.

The Enforcer took the crop and after measuring off the distance he wanted stood and swished it in the air a couple of times, making whoosing sounds. I could see the fear in Amy's face. It had been ages since she had even had a parental spanking and that never on bare skin. The first lash landed squarely across her left buttock, the five fingers wrapping around her outer hip. She screamed in pain, then quickly spat out a "One, T H A N K Y O U  S I R. " the loathing in her voice could be felt. The next blow landed just below the first, and she dutifully counted out the second. He switched sides for the third and fourth lashes, and all was going ok. Amy was crying non stop, but was able to keep up with the counting and the humiliating thank yous. Then The enforcer moved around to the front. Amys eyes went wide with sheer terror as she watched the next blow strike out and land squarely against her left nipple. The five leather fingers reached out and wrapped around the contours of her small breast, almost like they were grabbing it. The scream of pain Amy let out was the most awful hurting sound I had ever heard. My baby was in dire pain, and I could do nothing about it, I had to stand here and watch her be beaten. I saw the tears running down April's face just as I heard my own sobs. Amy had lost control of her bladder, and urine had shot out of her, pooling on the floor beneath her, some running down her legs. I had not even noticed that she had failed to count. By the time Amy remembered to count, it was too late. 

"Failure to keep count has now brought the count to Zero!" 

His arm flexed, and the crop landed once again on her small tortured breast. Amy was now almost out of control with pain. She hissed out the count and the thank you. Five more times the bastard flogged Amy's little tits. You could see the welts rising, turning first red then purple. After a total of seven lashes to her breasts, he returned to her backside. There followed four more on her buttocks, bringing the count to a total of four on each buttock. That left two to go. I was too afraid of where those last two would land. I had hoped that he might show some mercy, but that was not to be.

The next lash whipped out and straight up between her legs, landing squarely on her wet and open pussy, splitting her opening in two. This time, just as it landed, he drew back quickly on the crop, causing the five fingers to whip around and lash into her pussy. Her scream of pain was ear splitting, but then she did get the count out just in time. The final blow found the exact same mark, and caused her to pass out from the pain. Mercifully they did not hold that against her, and released her from the bindings. There was a female attendant who had come in, and she took Amy away.. I could only hope and pray that they would be somewhat merciful, and rub ointment on the wounds to help provide some pain relief and healing. I was in shock. My body was trembling and I felt nauseous. How could any human being do that to another? And yet, I suddenly realized that the wetness flowing down the insides of my legs wasn't urine like Amy's had been, it was my vaginal juices in such copious amounts, I had also left a small pool of moisture on the floor beneath me. My nipples were so hard they actually hurt. What I had seen had both repulsed me and excited me all at the same time. But I barely had time to think it through. Keith had been placed in the restraints, and would now receive a total of 17 lashes.

"Since Amy is not able to choose the instrument to be used on Keith, that duty will have to fall on someone else." The assistant looked around, staring for a moment at each of us, then his gaze came back and centered on me.

"Alice, you will choose the instrument!"

I walked over to the table. What I saw there on the table frightened me even more. There was a cat-o-nine tails, and each of the ends had been cut down to a fine point. The other choice was one I had never seen before. It had a handle which led to a oblong piece. From this oblong piece there extended three bamboo canes, each about three feet long. The oblong device holding them had a turn-screw device which would apparently allow the distance between the canes to be adjusted to some degree. Tears again began flowing from my eyes, knowing the pain that either one would inflict on poor Keith. Keith was not a strong gorilla type person. He was the quiet, sensitive overly caring kind, and I knew he would not be able to withstand the amount of pain either one would inflict. It was enough. I had to risk taking a chance. I picked up the cat-o-nine tails and rather than hand it to The Enforcer, I planted my feet and said:

"I choose the Cat, but use it on me, not on Keith!" and I stared defiantly at The Enforcer. 

I saw a brief look of anger, but that was quickly replaced by the evilest grin I have ever seen.

"Well now, this is an interesting turn of events. Trying to protect dear wimpy hubbie, how noble. Well, I'll tell you what. I'll take you up on your challenge, but only to a point. You can take his 17. But since you dared to speak out without permission, he will take six for you.!"

Well, I figured six was at least better than 17, and if I spoke out any more, I was sure it would get worse, so I shut up and just stood there.

I watched as they released Keith, and I meekly stepped into position. The secured me, but spread my legs even farther apart than Amy's had been. I figured that meant bad things vor my pussy. I was right.

Once again The Enforcer started out on my buttocks. The blows hurt like hell, but I maintained my ability to withstand, and meekly called out each blow, with the thanks required. Four landed across each buttock, from opposite directions. The pain was getting bad, but the heat in my pussy was getting bad too. I would have thought after all the sex I had had already, my body would have been worn out sexually, and all I would have felt was the pain. But after about the third or fourth stroke, I felt my wetness all anew. By the sixth stroke my pussy was on fire. I could feel the throbbing of my clit throughout my entire body. It was as if I no longer felt the pain, each stroke of the Cat brought instead a wave of erupting need. I needed something in my pussy. I wanted to be fucked and fucked hard. The Enforcer had landed ten blows on my backside, and I was panting from the exertion of the blows as well as from the building sexual need in my body. Then came that long dreaded first stroke up and onto my pussy and whole pubic area. If I hadn't been chained down, I would have leaped high in the air. Several of the Cat's "tails" parted my pussy lips, one or more landing directly across my swollen and throbbing clit. I was so wrapped up in the action, wanting and needing the next lick to kiss my swollen, throbbing labia and clit. I took every blow, climaxing in screams of fulfillment on the third. Every one of the last four sent me higher and higher into ecstatic oblivion. I had never cum so hard or so long in my entire life. Finally it was too much and I passed out from the overpowering sensations. 



Changes Ch. 07



We danced like that for quite a while, slowly, relaxed against one another while the music went on at the perfect volume. It didn't even seem like the old dilapidated trailer, or anywhere else for that matter, just an unlikely place with music in a vast, dark universe where two unlikely personalities danced to it, simply living one another's company.

I finally put my hands inside her long, lacy gown, around to her back and down over her ass, caressing slowly, affectionately. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose and sighed it out, pressing closer.

"Take my panties off.", she whispered in my ear.

I put my hands inside the waistband of her boy cuts, ran them around, feeling her up and playing at slowly pushing them down while she ground a little harder into my erection. She exhaled sharply as they were finally pushed down from her hips and over her thighs. With a little wiggle from her, they dropped to the floor, after which she moved back a little, just far enough to start unbuttoning my shirt.

"Why don't you take your pants off?", she suggested in a quiet voice.

Before I knew it, all I had on was the undershirt as we danced closely again, her hands underneath it, mine rubbing her back and ass with my hardened cock trapped between us and experiencing every movement to the melodic, soft music.

"I have this little thing about a man wearing only an undershirt. But you do it much better than-,... than a lot of guys could."

"How's that?" I asked, briefly rubbing the back of her neck.

"You have a beautiful body."

" ... Oh. I do?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Well,... Thanks. But, can a man's body be described as beautiful? Should it-?"

She kissed me like we kissed before. I returned it, forgetting all about my question. Her hand was at the back of my head now, and our soft kisses became more passionate and urgent, sucking on each other's tongues while she ground against me all the harder. 

When she started making low, dirty moaning sounds, I separated myself and picked her up off her feet. She continued kissing me, straining in my arms with hers around my neck as I carried her into our bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, I crawled over top of her on my hands and knees, turned on beyond all belief and about to lock lips with her again when she stopped me.

"Camera.", she reminded with a guilty little smile.

"Oh, no, you're kidding!" I complained.

"It'll only take a second, bring it in on the tri-pod and set it up at the foot of the bed."

"Dammit!" I hissed, hopping off her and hurrying out to the front room.

I hastily set the thing up while she smiled at me, playing with her breasts and waiting patiently.

"I like the camera." she said with a naughty grin as I crawled back over top of her.

"I kinda got that, yeah." I said softly, smiling as I began playing with her nipples through the lace, kneading and pinching, rolling and tugging.

"Mmmm. Ohhh, baby, yesss."

She reached down and between us, taking my cock in her hands and pumping it, arching her back and pushing her excited breasts up as she squirmed beneath me. In answer, I gently pulled the top of her deep purple gown open, letting her tits out for me to play with as she pumped me harder.

After a minute, she pulled my mouth from her nipples and directed it to her face, pressing down on the small of my back. Our lips touched again as her silent communication was received. I slid myself into her hot and ready canal like she was made specifically for me and the feeling was incredible. I took my time, grinding her slow and passionately with my hands under her back, kissing her neck as her head tilted, moaning long, soft sounds of pleasure.

Sometimes I would stay inside, pressing and moving around, but always moving, always experiencing the wet friction between our sensitive organs, trembling at the perfection of everything in those minutes as she undulated beneath me.

I was sucking on her earlobe, listening to her soft sounds of pleasure, when I realized I was making them too, that I had completely given myself over to her without even noticing, as if I had real feelings for her. Did I? Or was it only that Heather seemed somehow so natural to me, despite the circumstances, our personalities and aims? 

And what about her? She caressed my sides and back as though I were a lover, not just a sex partner. I couldn't remember any woman responding to me like this before and I couldn't remember ever feeling this way during sex before, either. In fact, we weren't having sex; we were making love. And it was so beautiful and so perfect between us.

Her little cries built in intensity and volume until she was yelping a long, slow built orgasm, her ankles linked at the small of my back, hands gripping my shoulders, jerking spasmodically into me and cumming her usual torrent. Her pussy clamped itself around my already over excited cock and brought me to my own orgasm, making me jerk a little roughly into her pelvis in half controlled convulsions, much like her. I grunted softly each time I pumped a shot inside of her and, overall, it was an experience that blew my mind. Afterwards, as I lay on top of her, I again wondered if I wasn't actually growing serious feelings for Heather. 

The thought was startling for a few reasons. First, I'd only known her a week, second, she wanted to stay and I wanted to go, third, I didn't have the kind of money she looked for in a man. Yet, since our little conversation while dancing, I no longer beheld her as a gold digging, opportunistic parasite, rather just another soul who ran, looking for her place and doing what she had to do just to get to the end of a day. I understood her in a way at that point, I suppose you could say. However, that didn't solve the three problems that any feelings for her presented.

I was kissing her face all over, slowly, softly, in the act of putting these thoughts out of my mind so I could just enjoy the moment for a change, when she responded, running her long nails through my hair and fixing me with one of her unreadable expressions.

"I've never had that before." she said, her voice still small and a little shaky. "I've never been,... treated like that in bed before. You made love to me."

"Yeah,... well, it just,... sorta happened."

She smiled a little and replied, "Thank you. I mean it, I'll never forget that. I mean, what we did earlier was great, but I wasn't expecting something so beautiful and perfect. I'll never forget this."

"Ye- Uh, actually, I've never,... actually experienced anything like that before, either. Heather,..."

"Yes?"

"You know I like you, even though we argue, but I think I like you a lot more than,... I don't know how much. I don't mean to fuck your head up with that, now of all times, and you know that-"

"I know how you feel about me. You might act like a jerk at times, but you actually carried all that stuff in for me tonight just because I asked you to, and you never say anything really mean, even when we're arguing. And now, this. It's okay, though, I- I feel the same way. I'm really glad that it was you in this whole thing, if that makes any sense."

"Yeah, it does. It's the same for me."

"This is alright, David, even if it's,... don't analyze it, just take this good feeling."

I smiled understandingly as I worried about the future outcome of following that piece of advice.

She pulled me closer and whispered, "Go shut the camera off."

----- ----- ----- -----

She was back in her excitingly skimpy maid's uniform the next day, peering through the window of the garage at the finished 'contraption', as she called it, loaded and pointed at an old half sheet of drywall I'd propped up at the edge of the yard. A long cord ran from its electronic check valve to the trigger button in my hand within the relative safety of the garage.

"You ready?" I asked, grinning to my left at her.

Yes." she said, tapping her toe, completely skeptical of the possibility of even a dangerous explosion, let alone a successful firing test.

"Okay, on three. One,... two,... three."

I pressed the button and the sound of three hundred lbs. of compressed air propelling a ten mm. steel ball bearing at high velocity reached us through the window glass as the contraption jolted a little. From the edge of the yard, there was a satisfying "Plap! sound as the bearing punched through the drywall.

"Oh my god, it worked!" she said, really looking now.

I laughed and ran outside, telling her to stay there. I checked the contraption and everything seemed to be in order, including the aim, more or less. It was clear that I'd have to think of a better anchoring method, but the mechanism itself had worked and I was elated.

I jogged back inside with a face splitting grin, grabbing up the remote trigger again.

"Now watch this." I said excitedly.

I pressed the button repeatedly and the contraption fired repeatedly, just as it should while we watched a dotted line appear on the drywall as each shot knocked the contraption's aim off further, until it started firing into the woods.

"Oh my god, is that ever cool!", Heather yelled, jumping up and down and clapping, breasts bouncing seductively as her left nipple worked its way half out. "Can I do the button!?" 

"Wait till I get a different target out there." I said, stepping quickly to the back of the shop. "I got an old Caprice hood here, we'll see if it'll penetrate-"

"No, the abandoned section of the house!" Heather suggested.

"I like your thinking, blondie."

"I want you to take me back there, I wanna see it. I keep thinking there's some mystery or-"

The phone rang. 

----- ----- ----- -----

"You can't do that!" Heather claimed, fixing me with a defiant expression as we got to Dagmar's door, trying to keep her voice down as I checked Rolex time and positioned myself for my little punctuality game.

"You don't know what in hell you're doing." I maintained. "I knew it was a mistake and then you proved it."

"I can drive!"

"You hit every damned pot hole and sunken manhole cover on the way. You even nailed a curb, you can't drive."

"I've had my license for longer than you!"

"What difference does that make!?" I asked, once again losing patience with her lack of reasoning skills.

"It means that I have more experience than you do! I know better than to go wildly swerving to avoid-!"

"You don't know shit behind the wheel, and I'm the one who's responsible to Mistress for scuffed sidewalls and ground up rim beads!"

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed angrily. "And how dare you! You, who almost got us killed on the way back from-!"

"Fuck!" I swore, looking back at the Rolex.

(knock - knock!)

"You fuckin' distracted me! We're almost twenty seconds late now! Fuck!" I snapped in half panic.

"What in hell are you talking about, twenty seconds!? If you weren't always pickling your brain with-!"

The door opened suddenly, and we both immediately turned away from one another to face Dagmar, pasting toothy smiles on and greeting in harmony, "Hello, Mistress."

She stared at us as our eyes rolled uncomfortably at one another. She was wearing that snug fitting, dark casual wear, the black leggings and a dark red, button up sweater. Her hair was half up and she was stunning, as always.

"You're twenty seconds late." she informed us, obviously unimpressed.

"My fault, Mistress." I said, for whatever reason.

"That surprises me. You've always been perfectly on time before."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Come in."

I appraised my new roomy, frowning at her long sleeved, white blouse, buttoned to her neck and a short black skirt with black stockings and shoes. We looked like the Bobsey twins, as I wore a white button up shirt with the black dress pants.

Of course, we were both wearing our accursed collars, as well. I was quite relieved to not get an erection when I put it on in the parking lot below, slapping Heather's 'helping' hand away irritably.

"I see you remembered your collars. Nice fit. You both look very nice in them. Did you remember the video?"

"Yes, Mistress." Heather said, hoisting her black satin purse with Dagmar's rose symbol embroidered in red. 

"Good girl. Take your shoes off and come in."

She was making a drink as we entered her front room, her back to us at the bar.

"How are you two getting along?" she asked, not looking around at us."

"Better, Mistress." Heather answered as she stood with her hands clasped on her purse in front of her, watching Dagmar.

"Boy?"

"We're making an effort." I said.

"Would that be the effort I saw through the peephole?"

She finished making her drink and sat with it on a tall barstool type chair, legs crossed, heel hooked on the lower cross support.

"Go there, to the couch." she instructed, gesturing with her hand. "It's where my camera is pointed. Don't bother looking around for it, you won't see it. Boy! I said don't-!" Oh, forget it!"

We stepped inside her large horseshoe sectional, Heather looking around herself nervously as I waited for the worst. It was never the expected with Dagmar, after all.

"I've been thinking about you two and why you don't get along and I have some ideas that may put an end to it. You see, I think it's simple pride and jealousy. Each of you thinks you're better than the other in some way, but I assure you both that I do not play favourites and that I do care equally for each of you. I hope you care about me in some way and I intend that you will, more and more so as time goes by."

She paused here to sip her drink with a smile before saying, "Girl, I know what a spoiled brat you are. Don't look at me that way, you are and I know how you antagonize the boy. Have you been remembering to not where clothes?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Did you remind him that he could use you at his will?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And you've been fucking each night for the camera?"

"Uhh, something sort of came up two nights ago, but we doubled up last night to make up for it." Heather reported with a hopeful smile.

"What came up?"

"We were arguing." I said. 

It wasn't exactly a lie, more like an additional truth.

"That doesn't surprise me."

"But we really are getting along better, Mistress." Heather claimed. "Once you watch our video, I think you'll see that."

"That would be nice but, still, there's the bickering. Boy, did you have her suck your cock again?"

"Yes.", I replied.

"Did you make her swallow?"

"Umm, no, Mistress."

"Perhaps you should have. Girl, have you ever done that?"

Heather shook her head and said uncertainly, "No, Mistress, but-"

"I'm willing to bet you've never had a face full of cum before you met him, either, have you?"

She shook her head, saying, "No, Mistress."

"But you enjoyed it."

"Yes, I,... did it again.", Heather answered, a little red faced.

"Did what again?"

" ... I sucked his cock and jerked him off in my face."

Now I was hard.

"And you loved it, didn't you, little one?", Dagmar teased.

She stared at me, nodding her head slightly.

"Well, you've certainly gotten a rise out of him. Open his fly and put your hand in his pants. Play with his cock. Boy, put your hand under her skirt and play with her pussy. Don't look at me like that, you two are going to learn how to fully appreciate one another."

We moved closer and her trembling fingers fumbled with my fly as my hand touched her inner thigh, making her draw in a sharp, almost silent breath. It was different in this place, with Dagmar and her hidden cam and we avoided each other's eyes when she slipped her hand inside my pants, grabbing my stiff member. I put my hand between her legs, lifting her skirt with my other one and checking out her crisp, white panties. She found a halting rhythm with her hand as I rubbed her crotch and we both started breathing heavier.

"Spread your legs, girl. Oh, yes. That's very nice. You look so good with your nice clothes and collars. Just keep playing with each other while we chat, okay?"

"Uh-h!, yes, Mistress.", Heather agreed, beginning to lean her upper body toward me while sticking her arse out, arching her back.

"Are you enjoying yourself, girl?"

"Ohh. Yes."

"Are you uncomfortable about that?"

"H-! A little."

"That will change. You're going to take a lot of cum tonight, girl. I hope you brought an appetite."

"Uhn! Oh, Mistress!, she moaned, either liking or dreading the idea, I couldn't tell which as I was doing some moaning of my own.

I put my hand right down the front of her now wet panties and inserted a finger between her soaked lips immediately, making her shudder and fall against me a little as her eyelids fluttered.

"Oh! Uuuuhhhhh!!"

"That's right, boy. Make her feel it. Make her cum."

I glanced up to see Dagmar with her legs spread, her hand between them, softly, slowly stroking herself as she directed us.

"Ohhh, god!" I breathed into Heather's ear as she played with my super sensitive cockhead.

"Nnnaaaaa! Oooooohh! Ma- ... Make you,... cum!", she whined softly.

"What's he doing to you, girl?" Dagmar sleazed in a heavy tone.

"Ooooh! He's- Ahhhh! Fingering my pussy!"

"You like it."

"Ooooh, yeah!"

"You're a very bad girl, aren't you?"

"Noooo, Mistress! OH! I'm a gooooood girl!"

"Good girl? How can you be a good girl while this man, who you've only just met less than a week ago, has his hands down your little white panties, fingerfucking you while you enjoy it? I assume you're enjoying that cock too, aren't you?"

"Uuuuooohh, god! Ohhhhh, my god! Yeeess!"

"And you a married woman. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Ohhhhh! OH! OH! Oh, Mistress,...!"

"Yeeessss?"


 "I'M CUMMING! OH, MISTRESS, I'M,... AUUUUGGHH!! Ohhhh, god, aaaahhh!!" she squealed in that unique way she had that was part wail and all good.

The pretty, blonde trophy wife of Bryan Chalmers writhed against me, never stopping her attentions on my stiff rod as she clung to me with her other arm around my back, knees pressed together and trapping my hand between her thighs as she doubled over just a little, eyes squinted shut.

"Oh, so nice! Bravo, little ones, bravo!" Dagmar heartily approved, squeezing her own plump pussy. "But don't let him cum yet, girl." she warned.

I groaned out my frustration as Heather's hand slowed. I was so close.

"Take your panties off and get on the sectional, on your knees and stick that arse in the air for him, girl. Hop to it like a good pet, now."

Heather removed her hand from my pants and made her way to the couch, lowering her soaked underwear with her hands and a few jerky wiggles. She looked back uncertainly.

"On your knees, facing the back of the couch." the Domina encouraged. "Arch your back and pull your skirt up. Show us that nice ass and pussy."

She got on as told, arched her back and, while looking back at us, slowly pulled up her skirt. It was a nice ass and pussy, alright, but I already knew that. 

"Spread your legs more. Like a slut. There, that's better. Now play with your clit while we watch. ... Mmm,... boy, take your pants off and play with yourself."

I did as directed, taking myself in hand self consciously, but enjoying my own touch as I watched the moaning Heather buck and grind against her own fingers. 

"Girl, lick your pussy juice off your fingers. Oh yeeesss, you're so lovely. Both of you,... Oh, fuck!"

Heather had gone back to her clit, also fingering herself as I stroked my own cock. All three of us were masturbating together, watching one another and really enjoying it.

"Ohh, god!" I groaned, getting very close again.

"Boy, I want you to stick your cock in the girl. Shove it right up her wet pussy and fuck her like we know she wants it. Fuck her hard, like the slut she is."




Changes Ch. 07



"Ohhh, Mistress!", Heather moaned.

"Oh, I know, dirty girl. You want it bad. You want to be pounded until you can't walk straight, don't you?"

"Ooooh- Ahhhhh!!", she yelled as I pushed my cock inside her. 

I enjoyed her discomfort as I shoved myself all the way in to the sound of her alarm. She felt so warm, so soft and good as I put my hands on her bare hips, rubbing her ass and making her end her long yell with a grunt as I bottomed out inside her. I started moving in and out right away as she continued with her clit, spreading her legs further and moving into me.

"Uhhnn!! Ooooh!! Fuck,... oooooh!!?"

She felt good. Very good, like before. It wasn't long before I was slamfucking her, having been brought down far enough to make it difficult to work myself up to cumming again. I screwed her for all either of us were worth and she loved it, holding on to the top edge of the sectional with her arms straight, moving her hips back with every one of my thrusts."

"Aah-aah-aah-aah-aah! Ba-ang me-eee-ee!" Heather desperately cried.

"Yeah! Ooooh! Fuck her! Keep-! Fu-! OHHH! OHHHHH! OHHHHHHHHHH!" Dagmar cried, climaxing in her leggings with her knees spread. Ohhhhh, fuck! I'm- sooo wet!"

I leaned forward over Heather, still banging the hell out of her as she requested, breathing hard and feeling myself get close again.

"Uuuulll! Uhhhh!! Uhhhn!! Oh! I'm- gonna cum again!!" Heather squawked.

I could take no more and, whipping myself out of her first, I threw her down on the couch.

"No! I was cum-! Cumming!! Mmmmmm!"

She was on her back, head hanging over the seat cushion with her legs open, fingering herself intensely as I shoved my loaded gun into her mouth.

"Swallow it all, girl! Swallow all that nice cum for me!"

"Mmmm! Gmmmmmbblk! OMMMMMMPH!! Gm-hkk!! OMMMMMM- glulp MMMM!! GKLMMMGLUP!! (gulp!) MMMMMMM!!"

We both came at the same time again and she did her honest best to swallow it all, but in the midst of her own orgasm and my cock blocking her air, she choked, allowing some of my sticky cum, mixed with her saliva, to cough out on her chin and upper lip. She recovered somehow and kept swallowing, looking up at my face until I was finally spent and there was no more for her to ingest. 

"Ohhhhhhhh.", Heather crooned satisfyingly after I took my rod out of her mouth, dreamily adding, "I'm so dirty."

"Yes, you're my dirty girl." Dagmar sleazed proudly as I collapsed on the sectional across from Heather.

"Thank you, Mistress." she said with her eyes closed.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

I drove us to a decent, all night restaurant a little later, under Dagmar's direction of course. It sounds nice, I know, but it was a little more than that. As we sat at the table, Mistress across from us, Heather squirmed and softly gasped nonstop to the seven inch, vibrating, remote controlled dildo inside of her the whole time. Of course, Dagmar had the remote device and, every once in a while, Heather would lean against me, or clutch my arm as she valiantly restrained herself from verbalizing an orgasm. I must admit that it was quite entertaining to watch, and one hell of a turn on.

Dagmar very much enjoyed the secret spectacle, smiling as she ate her Caesar Salad, sometimes pausing to watch as Heather whimpered and her eyes rolled.

"So, do you think you two will be getting along maybe just a bit better?" Dagmar asked me with a knowing smile.

I looked at her curiously.

"Oh!" Heather breathed, slumping forward a little as she tried to get through her Pasta Primavera.

"I know you're not the 'love em and leave em' type, pet."

"I've left lots of women. Far behind at over one hundred kilometers per hour, in fact."

"Yes, you have, but those women,... You knew it was over with all of them, you even used an expression,... 'Pre-emptive strike', I think it was. You didn't want to be dumped, obviously. But neither one of us are going to dump you and you know that."

"Oh, god, another- Uhnn! Oh! Oh, David! Ooooohh! she cooed softly at my side, keeping my dick at full attention.

"She's your girlfriend, now." Dagmar finished.

"I thought you were my girlfriend."

"No, I'm your Mistress, pet. Big difference."

"What if I wanted you as my girlfriend?"

"You already have one, and I'm not that type of woman, as you well know."

"I've found, through some recent personal experience, that those things can change."

"Not in me, boy. I'm your Mistress and I always will be. I know I represent physical perfection in your eyes, but the girl is very attractive too, don't you think so?"

"Yes."

"Do you have fun looking at her in her lingerie?"

"Yes."

"Did she make you hard, pet?"

" ... Yes, Mistress."

"Did you want to do naughty things to her?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"I,... I wanted to fuck her. Just grab her and fuck the life out of her."

"Girl, did you enjoy parading your lovely body in front of him?"

"Oh, yesss!" Heather sighed.

"Do you like his body?"

"Oooh. Yesss."

"Especially his cock, hm?"

"Especially,..."

"Just wait, the party's only getting started." Dagmar promised with a smile and a wink.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

If anyone would have access to a private, after hours nightclub, it would be Dagmar Alejandro, and that's where we ended up after our meal. The place was called, The Velvet Entry, and it was dark inside, the corners completely draped in shadows, yet one couldn't escape the rich 'feel' of the place. Looking close, it was possible to make out tapestries, long, drawn curtains of deep maroon, paintings, portraits, sculptures and other object d'art, but the seating areas scattered throughout the high ceilinged establishment were all adequately lit and mostly occupied.

The three of us sat with three other people in a circle of loveseats, couches and chairs, sipping drinks that our collar wearing server respectfully and fearfully insisted Dagmar not pay for. Heather and I were seated beside one another, listening to her and her friends speak and not speaking ourselves, as she warned was proper for us. 

In attendance were Lord and Lady Tesh and their submissive, Petal, a petite brunette who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, wearing a school uniform. Lord Tesh appeared to be in his early to mid fifties, medium height and build with graying hair. His wife seemed about five to ten years younger and an attractive brunette, even for her age. All three were subtly glancing at Heather and I from time to time, mostly at me. With the exception of Petal, their expressions weren't friendly. As the time and alcohol flowed, the subject came around to submissives.

"I must commend you, really." Lord Tesh commented in his stuffy way. "Not anyone would take on a wilder, let alone two."

"Oh, they're very satisfying."

"Really?" the attractive, mature Lady asked, leaning forward in her snug, off the shoulder, royal blue dress that stopped halfway down her thighs. "How so?"

"Because," Dagmar explained, "I do not believe that true domination can be experienced with a willing submissive."

"An interesting philosophy." Lord Tesh remarked. "But how safe is it? I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that Petal would never willingly disobey or act contrary to instruction; she wants to please us, lives to do it. Is that not the true definition of a submissive?"

Dagmar smiled a little at Tesh's analysis and replied, "Submissives are people. They're personalities that require Dominants to take care of them. They are what they are, whether they're willing or not. Consider the advantages of a sub with no pre-conceived idea of the lifestyle, without the psychological taint of the stereotypes that come with it. They're clean slates, in a sense. Like raising a child."

"I don't like it.", Tesh observed, eying me openly and suspiciously now.

I looked carelessly back at him, the self dubbed 'Lord'. 

"I like to know a sub is going to do what he or she is told. How is Mistress Crush, anyway?"

Dagmar's eyes darkened momentarily at the mention of Crush, but she replied, "Wilders are not for just anyone, I'll admit. She should have cuffed him first. She grew accustomed to the softer personality type she'd been dealing with and didn't fully appreciate this one's eye."

"I'm told she released her submissive, Robey, before she, uhh, went away." Lady Tesh imparted. "In fact, I'm told that,..."

She trailed off, looking at me.

"As I said, wilders are not for just anyone. I thought she could handle it and I was mistaken."

"You don't seem very concerned." Lord Tesh said, almost challenging her.

"I'm not." Dagmar replied just before taking a sip of her cognac. "He told her he'd fuck her up for life just before I knocked him out. If she hasn't enough will to keep that from becoming reality in her own mind, that's her problem. May I?"

She nodded to Petal, sitting between the Lord and Lady as she made her implied request and Lord Tesh nodded in return.

"Petal", Dagmar said, "Open your legs and play with yourself."

"Yes, Mistress." the submissive replied immediately. 

Petal spread her legs and, without a thought, began stroking her sex, unhindered by the underwear she wasn't wearing under the green, plaid, school girl skirt. Dagmar smiled and gestured to us with her hand while looking at the Teshs. 

"Go ahead, Lord, Lady."

"Boy," Lady Tesh said, "Take your pants off and play with yourself."

I only looked at Dagmar, stressed, and angry.

"See? They don't respond to just anyone. Boy, take your pants off and play with yourself." my Mistress ordered with a smile.

My eyes widened. I stared at her, imploring, but I knew it would do no good. Sure enough, her expression darkened ever so slightly. I stood and slowly undid my pants and let them drop. After stepping out of them, I sat back down with a red face.

"Play with yourself, she said. Make yourself hard." 

Unfortunately, thanks to Petal, that was already happening. I obeyed, softly fingering my growing prick, ashamed to know that Heather was there to see me used in public like this.

"You see?" Dagmar asked. "One hundred percent loyalty. He doesn't like it, but he'll do it for me."

"I see,...", Lady Tesh offered as she watched me.

Petal broke a small moan and I realized, somehow only then, that we were watching each other and getting off that way. Glancing at Heather, I saw that she wasn't impressed.

"Lord, Lady, would you like to see them perform?"

They smiled and nodded their affirmation.

"Girl, be a good slut and suck on that cock."

Heather looked at Dagmar, hesitating only a second before glancing at Petal, then promptly going down on me.

"I like that he's younger than she,...", Lady Tesh said.

"They do look nice together, don't they?" Dagmar agreed. "Why not have Petal join them?"

Lady Tesh smiled wider and ordered, "Petal, sit on that boy's face."

Petal got right up to do this, but was stopped up suddenly. Upon hearing the order, Heather stopped what she was doing and glared first at Lady Tesh, then Petal, as if silently daring her as she slowly, almost protectively stroked my cock.

"Girl,...", Dagmar warned.

"But Mist-"

"Girl!"

Heathers jaw snapped shut and she looked away, shooting a reproachful glance at the grinning Tesh's before glaring hatefully at Petal, who cautiously stepped up on the loveseat beside me.

"Never mind, girl, just suck his cock like I told you."

Heather went back to sucking my stiff rod, although angrily this time, watching as Petal straddled my upper body.

I didn't want to do it. First off, I've never been into petite women but, even worse, Petal was a body with no mind of her own and anybody who had even half a brain could see this. For me, it was practically necromancy and, if Heather wasn't as good at sucking cock as she was, I probably would have lost my hardon when the little thing moved up and pressed her greasy, shaved snatch to my face. Worst of all, it felt like I was cheating on Heather.

"Oh, they don't like that very much, do they?" Lady Tesh observed. "Especially the girl."

"And that's half the fun of wilders." Dagmar said. 

"Are they married?" Lord Tesh asked.

"No, they've known each other about a week. Boy, you can do better."

She was right, I could, but I was loathe to. I grabbed her thighs and set to work, though, pretending it was Heather and ignoring Petal's sighs and gasps.

(Slurp), commented Heather.

"I say, she does that well, doesn't she?" Lord Tesh offered.

"Quite well, yes." Dagmar answered him, seemingly pleased that he noticed.

I redoubled my efforts to make Petal orgasm, hoping that would be the end of it with her, and she keened higher, louder as my tongue whipped around her pussy.

"Girl, take your skirt and panties off and hop into his lap." Dagmar instructed.

I couldn't see her, but she stopped her attention on my dick long enough, apparently, to remove the said clothing and straddle my hips.

"Now put him inside of you. Fuck him for us, pet."

"Ohhhhh.", Heather sighed as she lowered herself on me. 

She started with an immediate, relaxed rhythm, soon rolling her pelvis into me, quietly expelling short moans.

"Let's make this a little dirtier." Lady Tesh suggested after a few minutes, almost giggling at the prospect.

"What did you have in mind?" Dagmar asked her.

Petal chirped out an orgasm, her thighs trying to draw together as Lady Tesh explained.

"I was thinking of your boy fucking your girl while she eats Petals pussy."

"Hm.", Dagmar responded, thinking about this as Petal got off me, carefully avoiding the bouncing blonde in my lap. It's good to start with,... Shall I?"

"Please.", Lord Tesh allowed with a smile, gesturing to Petal.

"Petal, please sit on the floor and spread your legs. Girl, get down and eat her pussy while the boy fucks you.

After a minute, we'd switched position, me becoming very aware suddenly that people from other booths were watching. Heather hesitated at Petal's crotch like I did but, as I entered her, she took a careful lick, then another before accepting the situation, possibly pretending Petal was Dagmar.

"He didn't waste any time, did he?" Lady Tesh smirked.

"He's the impressionable type. Gets attached quickly." Dagmar explained as I pumped easily in and out of Heather, loving the look of her ass from this position and watching her suck Petal. "Play with her ass, boy. Work a finger in there."

"Uhh-hh! Mis-! Mistress, ooooooh!" Heather complained.

"Do it, boy."

I circled her anus as I fucked her, finally passing a finger over it and pressing a little. She seemed to like it, so I slipped out of her long enough to run my cock up between her ass cheeks, lubing her up for what Dagmar wanted. I shoved myself back into her pussy and rubbed her puckered opening slowly, pressing a little harder, a little harder until I began to work my pinky finger inside. She groaned into Petal and tried to move away from me as I felt her muscles quiver around my finger, then slowly relax.

"May we direct as well?" Lord Tesh asked, gesturing to the floor where we three 

submissives performed.

"Oh, please do.", Dagmar readily agreed.

"Boy, use your middle finger." Lord Tesh told me. I shot a dirty glance at him, a disappointed one at Dagmar, but did what he told me, going slowly, afraid I'd hurt poor Heather.

"Finger her pussy, girl, don't just lick and suck." Lady Tesh told Heather. "Eat her out properly."

Heather moaned despairingly, doing as she was told.

I was now fingering her freely and easily and it was clear that she was beginning to enjoy it. A lot. She slurped and sucked at Petal between grunting and crying out.

Petal came again, this time thrashing her head on the carpet, pulling at her hair and squeaking her bliss out of her mouth.

"You like that finger up your ass, don't you girl?" Dagmar said, teasing again.

"Ohhh! Yeesss!"

"What a dirty girl you are."

"Ohh, Mistress!"

"Are you my dirty girl, pet?"

"Yeah!"

"My horny little bitch?"

"Ohhh, yeah!"

"I think I should have him fuck you up the ass. Don't you?"

"Ohh-! Mistress, please, no!" Heather cried out as I felt the effect of all the liquor she'd been plying us with.

Even I was surprised at what Dagmar proposed, myself never having done it before as it always seemed so dirty and useless when there was a vagina right there, plus I could never get it out of my head that it would do serious internal damage to the woman. I'd even turned down women who'd requested it of me in the past, but now,...

"I do think you're dirty enough for that, pet. Also, you should take him up the ass for getting on his nerves. Yes, I've decided. Boy, you've been listening, you know what to do."

"Mistress,...", I tried, even though I was already fingering that hole as we softly bounced against one another."

"You've never done this, either?" she asked me, smirking with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, this is very good." Lady Tesh exclaimed, having hiked her short dress to her hips so Petal could remove her Mistress's pink lace panties as she also watched.

They weren't the only ones. While I shook my head in answer, my face reddened again to the realization that there were people standing around our seating area now, their attention riveted on us.

Dagmar smiled appreciatively at both of us and said, "How sweet of you both. Now, go ahead and fuck that nice ass for us."

Heather, now on all fours, arms straight with her palms flat on the carpet, made another small, despairing sound as I removed myself from her two ready openings. The growing spectator section, some with, some without collars, murmured a collective appreciation when I carefully lined up my cockhead and gently pushed.

"Ahhh! Uhhh!" she called out, looking behind, at me with an expression that hinted of blame with some excitement mixed in. I worked my way in a little further, drew back and went again until my cockhead was inside. My hand rested lightly on the small of her back as I guided myself with the other, having to admit to myself that, so far, it felt good and, the further I forced my way inside, the better it felt.

"Awwww!! Ohhhhhh!",Heather yelled, mouth forming in an 'O' as she continued looking at me.

"Oh-hh!" Lady Tesh exclaimed, Petal now licking between her legs as she sat, back straight, legs spread on the edge of the couch. "It's s-soo,... goooood!"

When I was half way in, trying to take my time, Heather was getting louder.

"Relax your sphincter, pet.", Dagmar instructed. "It'll hurt a lot less that way and, once you adapt, it'll feel very nice for you."

I reached forward, grasping her sides and gently drew her upper body from the flats of her hands so that her arched back was in front of me. Resting one hand on her lower belly, almost between her legs, I rested the other one on her shoulder, kissing the back of her neck. She seemed to respond to this treatment and, once again, I felt her slowly relax.

When I was finally and completely inside, I paused, giving her a chance to get used to me, feeling her fluttering muscles. I was so turned on by the sight of it, the feel of her soft cheeks pressing against the sides of my cock as I invaded her.

"Oh, look! Lady Tesh heavily breathed. "Your beautiful ass is all full of hard cock, little one!"

"Ahhhhhhh, fuuuuuck!"

"I think she likes it.", Dagmar observed. 

"Ooooooohh! Awwwwww! Ohhh-! Uhhhhhn!? Be careful with me baby!?" Heather asked. 

Her tone made me feel at once sad for her and all the more turned on. I nuzzled her neck, kissed behind her ear and began to draw slowly out, wondering why Dagmar couldn't have at least had the decency to allow us to do this in a more private setting.

"Play with your pussy, girl." Lord Tesh told Heather, his voice heavy and eager.




Changes Ch. 07



She complied, reaching down, beyond the end of her shirt tails to stroke herself. After a minute or two, there was no doubt that she was now enjoying the forced invasion as I found a slow, careful rhythm. I could tell she was getting close to an orgasm when Dagmar spoke again.

"Lord Tesh, if you wish to indulge, please feel free."

"That is very generous of you." he replied.

I glared at him hatefully as he got up with a grin and stood in front of Heather. He slowly pulled her blouse open and mauled her breasts with his hands through her white demi-bra. He pressed the bulge in the front of his pants to her face and she jerked back, looking up at him with an expression I could only imagine.

"Get my cock out and suck it, girl." he told her.

She could only do as she was told, undoing his pants and pulling them down so that his stiff rod pointed at her face. Tesh didn't waste any time, sticking it right in her open, desperately groaning mouth.

"Omm-hmmmm!!, she whined around him as he started slowly fucking her mouth, she fingering herself and holding on to his thigh with her other hand.

Needless to say, I hated him for this.

"Oh, Lord Tesh, if you would, I did promise her a heavy diet of cum this evening." Dagmar informed."

"I'm sure that can be arranged." he replied, grinning down at me again.

"Ommmmmmpp!! Mmmm!!" Heather pathetically objected, ever closer to orgasm.

I was also getting quite a bit closer, vaguely wondering what was with all these simultaneous orgasms between us, when Lady Tesh looked to our owner and spoke.

"Dagmar, I would be honored if you would join us, dear. (sigh!)"

Dagmar, who had been drinking quite a bit herself, smiled wider, showing her teeth and replied, "Normally, I don't indulge under such circumstances but, tonight,..."

She rose, a little unsteadily and unbuttoned the blazer of her casual business suit, opening it and shrugging it over her shoulders, revealing a low cut, black cotton cammie with almost non-existent shoulder straps. Her nipples assaulted the cotton, large breasts bouncing gently as she walked slowly to where Lady Tesh sat caressing the back of Petals head, long red nails combing through her little submissive's hair.

"In all the time we've known each other," Dagmar sleazed, "I never realized you liked girls, Rhonda."

"Mmmmm!" Tesh replied thrusting herself into Petals face and smiling in anticipation as Dagmar approached. "Nor I, you."

Dagmar rested one knee on the couch and leaned over, kissing Lady Tesh's upturned face on the mouth as Lord Tesh and I watched. His wife gladly returned the gesture, then licked the other Dominant woman's closed lips while Dagmar enjoyed the feel of it, her eyes and lips closed.

Now my hands were on Heather's tits, pulling her back to me.

"Ahhh, fuck!" I groaned, just about to cum. "Oh, Heather, fuck!"

"Mmmm!? Mmmm!? Awmmmmmmb! AWWWWWWWWMMMMM!! MMMBB!! MMMMPH!!, she screamed as I shot my load deep into her ass, burying myself and feeling her own orgasm causing her sphincter to grip my prick, dragging more and more cum out of me while I half yelled, half croaked my release.

Both my hands on her hips now, I continued pumping until I was empty and beyond, still turned on despite the unwanted, surrounding circumstances.

A waiter stopped and practically forced a drink of something down my throat, the erection behind his pants in my face, before moving off, leaving me almost dazed. I was approaching my limit and if-

My eyes happened to fall on Dagmar. Her hand was down the top of Rhonda Tesh's dress and tweaking a nipple. She licked her lips, then glanced pointedly around at the watching crowd.

"Please, feel welcome to join us, if you like." she invited with a graciously horny grin.

This, I correctly figured, was bad. Unfortunately, that impression didn't last, not that it would have mattered anyway. 

A hand grabbed me by the considerably shorter hair on the top of my head, forcing my face to look up. It was a plump woman in a short, velvety black, little dress, a wide, silver linked belt around her middle. She attacked my mouth with her lips and tongue, drawing me backwards and out of Heather, my hands regretfully leaving their protective position on her breasts. The strange woman wasn't wearing a collar, not that her actions left any doubt as to her status.

"Don't worry about your little friend." she said in a strong, willful voice, her striking face smiling down at me. "Just be a good boy and get on your back so I can sit on your face."

I looked the full figured, alluring, yet almost doll like woman up and down as she pushed me to the floor, not having much problem with this. 

"Oh, you like a big girl, do you?" she leered, hiking her dress up with her hands and a series of seductive wiggles from her round hips. 

Amazingly, I was still hard but, even if I wasn't, this would have gotten me there again and I think that's when I simply abandoned myself without a further thought. I decided I would have fun with this sexy 'Dominant'.

A naked man without a collar was now thrusting his cock into Heather, making her wail on Tesh's cock once more. I couldn't tell which hole he was fucking, his back being mostly towards me, but I guessed it was her pussy, judging by his angle. Her eyes were wide and they were watching the opposite couch. Just before the nicely plump Dominant, having straddled my upper body on her knees, brought her crotch down to my face, I glanced over, my eyes widening as well.

Lady Tesh was climaxing to Petal's tongue, making it look like she was hyperventilating, when a hard penis found its way into her mouth. She closed her lips around it and sucked while Dagmar watched, still grinning, still with her hand down the front of Rhonda's dress as another man respectfully lowered the zipper on the back of her tight business skirt from behind. It went all the way down to the top of the slit in back where the zipper separated, causing the skirt to fall away. 

Dagmar looked back, turning her grin on him, saying something I didn't quite catch, then sharing kisses with him as his hands rested on her hips, over the gold silk garter belt she wore that matched her low cut panties, both with black edging that went well with her black garter straps and stockings. What a turn on she was, but I never would have imagined her to get involved in a furball like this. It didn't figure, but I had another, more immediate concern right then.

The doll faced woman shoved herself right up to my mouth, giving me a close up of her black, crotchless panties with narrow, fluttery, silver lace at every edge. Right away, I kissed her clitoris hard, sucking it in my mouth after and playing with it.

She groaned as I reached up and clamped my fingers at the low neckline of her dress, roughly tearing it downwards and spilling out her large, soft, fluffy tits as she exclaimed a surprised note.

Lord Tesh ejaculated into Heather's mouth with a short yell. I watched her sucking, slurping it all back and noisily swallowing the way she did. It must have been a hell of a load, because some ran out around the corners of her mouth, dripping down on her tits, now freed and sitting up on the lowered and bunched cups of her bra. More spilled out from her mouth, mixed with her saliva, and over her lower lip and chin when he removed his spent member from her mouth. She looked up at him, still being jolted repeatedly from behind as he staggered backward a little.

A waiter now stepped up to her and force fed her a drink in the same fashion it was done to me, the man fucking her slowing to allow for this until it was done, after which he resumed his previous pace. Another swollen prick bobbed in front of her face and she took it in her hand willingly, stroking it, then licking the strangers balls.

Dagmar, in the meantime, was now on both her knees, up on the couch and stroking the bared penis of the man who'd removed her skirt. He'd moved to her side and the two were deep kissing while his hand explored down the back of her panties. The man whose cock was in Lady Tesh's mouth was slowly lowering the spaghetti straps of her top down her arms until her dark, chocolate brown and fully erect nipples came into view. The garment slipped beneath her tits and he looked reverently at them, their heavy shape as inviting to me as they were to him.

Petal was nowhere in sight, in her place, a man with a collar who was fucking Lady Tesh, also longingly regarding Dagmar's tits.

I looked away, pinching the nipples of the Dominant woman on my face, the soaked lace ruffles getting in my mouth as I hungrily sucked her opening, tonguing it every now and then, drawing out her essence as she held her pussy open for me with two splayed fingers. I couldn't see who it was, but another warm, wet pussy suddenly enveloped my cock, sliding down its length and grinding firmly at the bottom before the mystery woman started bouncing lightly, quickly, her long nails playing in the hair on my chest and belly, over my tattoo.

There were groups of people all around now in various states of undress, doing various things to each other. I realized I was involved in an actual orgy, that this was what I'd given myself over to, but it was too late then. It was too late when that red Mustang ended Kelly Preston's life.

On the floor beside me, Heather was now on her back, a man underneath her and inside her ass as another fucked her pussy while holding her legs spread wide. She still had her bra on and a third man straddled her chest, fucking her tits as she held them together for him, a fourth fucking her mouth.

Dagmar was actually on her hands and knees, sucking a man's large, erect penis and really doing one hell of a job. Lady Tesh was on her back beneath her, sucking her tits while the man Dagmar had been kissing was behind her once again, slowly pulling her panties down her ass.

He lined his cock up and entered her from behind, making her close her eyes and suck all the harder.

The Dominant I was eating came very satisfyingly, actually kissing me afterwards, then moved away to reveal the mystery pussy pounding my dick. It was Queeny. She looked pretty satisfied too, and I remember spending some time with her, necking with and fucking her missionary style on a couch, but no other details.

In fact, I don't remember much at all after that, beyond a few highlights, one of them being Dagmar removing a cock from her mouth to catch her breath while being pounded from behind, only to have it ejaculate in her face. The first two heavy shots hit her forehead and hairline, the third her cheek, the fourth and fifth over her lips and chin and into her mouth.

"Oh! Oh! Ohhh!" Ohhhh! Ahhhhhh!" she cried at each shot with a surprised tone.

Another man walked up and spurted into her face as well and I remember how she looked up at him as he did, the smile on her face and how she caught my eye afterwards. She regarded me with the strangest expression with warm, sticky jism running down from her hair. She winked at me and went down on Lady Tesh as she squirmed beneath her to a sixty nine position.

The next morning, I wished I couldn't remember any of it.



Changes Ch. 07



Author's Notes:

(1) This is meant to be an additional installment of the whole story called "Changes". Reading this chapter alone may not do much for you, unless you are a crossdresser or femdom freak, or both;

(2) Being laced into a corset for the first time is a cherished experience for many crossdressers and transvestic fetishists. It can change you in so many ways, both physically and psychologically.

(3) Enjoy the experience.

*****

It wasn't until late July that I was laced into the summer mesh corset. This was my final fitting, after several mock-ups, and if it was suitable, Sarah told me that the waist training would begin immediately, despite the hot weather. I hadn't been wearing the silicone hip and butt padding so far that summer, but today I did, and the corset contoured over top of it with a beautiful and feminine curve. With every pull and tug of the laces at my back, my waist began to taper, as if my life was changing shape as well. My lower ribs bent inward relentlessly as the process continued. Sarah stood in front of me in the fitting room smiling and coaching me like I was giving birth.

"The emerging sculpture...steps into the unknown," she said philosophically, "Another deep breath out. That's it. Now we take it away."

The problem (and the delight) was that with every breath out, I never got it back. I felt my stomach. It was as hard as a rock with the excessive and rigid boning, and it arced inward, with the effect of pushing my breasts outward. When the corsetiere tied the corset off at the back, she told me to put my arms down and comment on how it felt.

I couldn't tell her the truth that I was close to orgasm in a fetish dream come true. "Wow!" I said between short puffy breaths, mainly from physical compression, partly from excitement, "It's extremely tight, but damn...it's surprisingly comfortable! I, uh...wow, it's so... I feel so, uh, controlled, I guess."

The lady said, "Well, it is a type of control garment; that's for sure, but actually, it's not really tight. Not yet. You'll have restrictions to movement, but that just requires life adjustments on your part. Bend over, twist, and move around. Any "hot" spots?"

My movement was definitely severely restricted, but that and my breathing were the only issues. "It's fine," I said, "But I can't imagine it any tighter. The laces have to be closed at the back, aren't they?"

Sarah laughed at this and said, "Of course not! Not even close. This is only the start and we don't want to hurt you or destroy the corset by tightening it too far right away. It's going to be a long haul for you. You're squeezed in about two inches right now, and I'd say there's about three inches more before the laces close. Then we'll see if you want to take it down further with a new corset. Even now though, you look great, really curvy."

The corsetiere, wanting to get back to business, said, "Okay, now I need to explain how waist training works. Stephanie, you must wear this corset for twenty three hours a day, every day, for months, and maybe the rest of your life if you want to have a female waist. Use that one hour out of it to shower and shave and things like that, and then get laced back in right away. About every one to two weeks, lace it a bit tighter, and keep track of the reductions. You'll know when it's time to take each new step, but you have to push it a bit at times."

I was really turned on by this regimen, but I tried not to show it, just agreeing with them that this was a long commitment. "Well, it seems really tight already. I guess I can loosen it myself if it becomes annoying or if I get tired of it, right?"

"Well, yes you could. But that would defeat the purpose of this. If you want a female waist..."

Sarah chimed in now and said, "Stephie won't loosen it or take it off, will you sweetie? She has a fetish for tight women's underwear."

I was annoyed. "Sarah! Don't say that!"

She shrugged and smiled.

Recovering, I said with a laugh, "Well, I suppose I might adjust the tightness if I felt like it, and you wouldn't know, would you?"

This is when I found out that Sarah had told the corsetiere much more about my personality and sexuality than I had anticipated. Neither the corsetiere nor Sarah laughed at my humor. In fact, it was explained to Sarah (not me) , "If she does try to cheat, as I told you before during our original discussions, I can add a lock-on flap which encloses the laces so they can't be adjusted without destroying the garment. Your daily record of her measurements will be the telltale on whether she is cheating. It's your call. And the degree of your control over her corseting will be a function of how severe I make the locking flaps. There's fine chainmail that can be used in extreme cases."

I laughed nervously and awkwardly and said, "Really? Chainmail? You have to be kidding. Anyway, ha... I was just kidding about loosening it."

Sarah snickered and said, "Well, that's good to know. But we weren't kidding. There are no halfway measures on this; you either do it or you don't. If you like the idea of corsets (and I know you do sweetie) , then you have to do it this way, my way."

I stared at Sarah, looking for clues as to whether she was kidding or not. She turned away and checked a text message. There were no winks or smiles. "Well," I said, "Now that we're clear on that..." I was thrilled. She wasn't faking her domination and control; it was real.

I attached my stockings to the garters and from then on when I walked I felt the tug of them, so different from wearing pantyhose. I still needed to wear a girdle to help keep the hip and butt padding in place, so I pulled it on and then looked in the mirror. The result was a shock, and in addition to being physically breathless, I was now sexually breathless as well. 

As a general comment, girdles are not "shapewear" as advertised; they only compress the fat and flesh. Corsets, on the other hand, actually shape a person with brute force; they redistribute the fat and flesh into places where it is wanted and eliminate it where it is not wanted. Even internal organs are forced into areas that they would not normally be over time and continuous contouring. I felt this forced shaping now. The corset allowed no compromises; my body had to submit and obey. Just like me. I looked at Sarah and I was unable to express myself.

She shook her head from side to side very slowly and said, "My, oh my! The shape is really good. After a few months of continuous wear, you'll be down about five inches and then just imagine the shopping we can do together! But even right now, my goal of not having you look like a man in drag is a success. We can go out (you can go out) looking like this in daylight, any time you want now without concern. No one will question your gender. I feel better about that, and I bet you do too."

I had a thought. "What if I decide to go out dressed as a man in the future? I mean, I haven't committed to being a woman full time, you know. So, uh, I can just take the corset off, right?"

Sarah looked at me curiously and said, "No, the corset stays put. Why would you want to do that? That would ruin your waist training. If you want to dress as a man (and I have no problem with that) , then you can just wear something that conceals the corset, that's all. I told you; you're in this for the long haul. Corseting is forever."

This was an epiphany. I had spent all my adult life concealing the fact that I cross dressed as a woman. Now I would spend the rest of my life concealing the fact that I was a man? The enormity of the shift in thinking hit me like a bus. I was gobsmacked. 

"Forever," I repeated in a flat tone, trying to comprehend that measurement of time, "I see."

I didn't really see, and in my head, I always thought I could just change my mind and stop all of this any time I wanted, like that first cigarette or hit of heroin. Now I began to see my future. I loved being bound into this corset, being controlled by it, and indeed by Sarah. I was addicted to this, to being a woman and wearing all things feminine and that excited and terrified me. There really wasn't a way back.

Sarah and the corsetiere left me alone to put my skirt and blouse back on so they could conclude the payment. When I walked toward them I heard Sarah comment that the delivery of the other satin brocade corset would be sometime in August. I felt like a child in a clothing store where everything was taken care of by someone else. They decided what to buy, the price, and what I looked best in and I just had to comment on comfort and fit.

We exited the salon to the sunny street and walked side by side and hand-in-hand toward the parking lot two blocks away, in appearance, two lesbians in love. Everything was different now. My walk changed that day, and I felt like I was gliding in my high heels, with the corset forcing me to keep my body straight and erect, proud of what I was, what I had become. Both women and men glanced my way with that subtle up-down gesture of the eyes, surveying my shape, my clothing, my makeup, and judging all. It was nondescript for the most part, and each person passed without changes in expression. But I was still not accustomed to the stares of the men. They tended to linger at my breasts and hips like I wasn't a person, just an object of sexual fantasy, and being a heterosexual male myself (as hard as that is to believe) , I knew they judged me to see if I'd be worthy to fuck. I found that disconcerting, and looked away blushing in the hot summer sun.

Just like a woman.



Changes Ch. 08



Heather's bed shaking sobs woke me up. 

I opened my eyes slowly, only the ghost of a headache at the back of my skull, thanks to the three Tylenol I insisted we each consume after the cab dropped us off at our place around four AM the night before. 

At first, we just staggered to the couch and collapsed there, drunk, used up and mostly inert, laughing and good heartedly teasing one another about what happened, still getting off in our heads, as our bodies were spent. 

Then we both hopped into the shower, cleaning ourselves of everyone else and suddenly seeing one another for who we were again. Our mutual, carefree spirits slumped to nervous smiles, refusing to meet the others eyes in the refreshingly hot, streaming water.

Recall of these events and the preceding ones at The Velvet Entry made my eyes bug out. My heart sped up and I blushed ashamedly in the dark and gloomy bedroom. I turned over in the bed, raised myself so I could see the clock radio over her shoulder. Nine forty-three AM. That explained why I was still a little buzzed. Edging closer to Heather, whose back was to me, legs drawn up in the fetal position, I spooned her, putting my arm around her middle. I understood her feelings completely. How could I have enjoyed that? How could I have done those things with all those total strangers and love it? What was wrong with my head?

"Don't touch me.", Heather toned in a low voice that never asked to live as she took my arm off her.

"Heather,... I- I'm sorr-"

"I'm a dirty little slut. Just like she says. How could she have known that about me when even I didn't?" she asked, cutting off my apologies.

"Sweets, no. Don't say that, it's not true." I said as I put my arm back around her, even holding it there when she tried to remove it again. "We didn't have a choice. If we did, we would have walked outta there right at the start."

"You don't understand,... I- I enjoyed it. What am I becoming?"

"No, don't think like that. I enjoyed it, too. We were plied with booze and given a way to satisfy ourselves like that with no inhibitions,... It wasn't your fault and you can't see it like that."

"You're a man, it's not the same for you." she sniffled, her quiet sobs having mostly subsided. "You don't understand."

"You're wrong. I didn't want that and,... Heather I was used just like you were. You don't know how I felt when Tesh started with you. I wanted to kill him, I still do. It's not your fault, sweets. I know it hurts and I know,..."

I couldn't go on, instead I pulled her even closer, hoping a little time would ease both our hurt. 

Mercifully, she fell asleep a while later, at that point hugging my arm to her chest like a child with a teddy bear during a lightning storm. I wasn't far behind and, the next time we awoke, it was just past noon.

            ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

I insisted she wear clothes that day, that I'd take the responsibility myself, one way or another, if she got caught. I didn't want her running around in her lingerie, feeling like a cheap piece of meat for me; it wouldn't do her mindset any good at all. She smiled thankfully and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before she went to get dressed after another round of ardent scrubbing in the shower together.

Sitting across from one another at the kitchen table, we stared at the tabletop between us in silence, drinking our coffee, mine spiked. I realized that I hadn't even gotten to the bottle the day before until we met up with Dagmar. I was enjoying myself with Heather all day and never even thought about it.

"Um, do you remember when you warned me about her, asked me to think about the things you told me?", Heather asked, not looking up, wearing a pair of white dress pants and a pink blouse, her own clothes from her previous home.

"Uh huh." I replied, also not looking up.

"Well, I didn't. Seemed like there wasn't time, or something, but I wish I had. I wish I listened closer to you. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, there was nothing you could have done."

"I'm really ashamed of myself, David. I don't know how you can even look at me."

"Yeah, I'm just as ashamed, believe me. The things that went through my mind last night, about,... Shit!" 

I was suddenly recalling how it turned me on to see her with her beautiful blonde hair slick with cum and stuck to her cheek. I hated myself.

"Heather, I,... I'm so sorry. I want you to know,... Oh, fuck."

" ... Hm. Yesterday, I was so excited to get back here with you so we could play with your contraption, but now,... It's like she took everything out of me. I don't want to do anything and I don't see how I can ever feel any better."

A tear leaked down each cheek, racing for her jaw line. A moment later, I was fairly shocked to find that my own eyes were watering, mostly in sympathy of how she felt and how I seemed so powerless to fix it for her. Just as shocking was a sudden, silent vow that nothing like this would happen to my only real friend ever again.

After some moments, I spoke.

"Have you ever wondered if there've been others?"

" ... Wh-what? Others?" she sniffed.

"Yes. I mean, did Dagmar just suddenly start taking over people's lives this spring, or have there been others? And if there have been,..."

"What happened to them?" Heather finished, her cheeks stained with her fresh tears.

"Yeah. Ever wonder that?"

"Now I am. ... David,... I asked you something when we first met, and you wouldn't answer. I wanted to know what she had on you, remember?"

I nodded.

"Well, would you please tell me now? It's important. I don't know why, but it would mean a lot to hear it."

I nodded again and promptly told her about the chance meeting between Kelly Preston and the mysterious, red Mustang that late evening, about the meeting with Dagmar in her office the next day and finally about what happened when I tried to tip off the Police.

"Oh my God." she toned, looking at me as the part about the Police sunk in. "Who is she, that she can,...?"

We were looking one another in the eye now, the open discourse of our true, shared predicament circumventing our mutual shame to a fair degree.

"Heather,..."

"Yes?"

"Well,... I want you to know that, even though I have these weird feelings for her, despite how much I hate her right now for what she did, I won't hesitate to bolt if I get the chance. I'm not afraid. You can count on that, Heather. You can count on me."

She showed a somewhat beleaguered smile and reached her arms across the table at me, palms up and open. I did the same thing, both of us looking each other in the eyes as I took her hands in mine.

"Thank you." she said. "And I understand your feelings for her, I share them, as fucked up as that is. But, I want you to know that you can count on me, too. Umm, if it comes to that, I like riding in your car. I can pack light. Okay?"

My smile became more confident, as did hers, and I replied, "That's what I had in mind."

           ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Later, Heather and I had actually been putting the events of the night before out of our heads with the escapism of my sci-fi movies and the help of the bottle in the freezer, when we heard a car drive in. It was a large, tuned engine and it had to be Dagmar.

"That's her, isn't it?" Heather asked, leaping up and quickly removing her pants, revealing that she wore no underwear. 

"I think so, yeah."

A car door slammed outside and I heard quick steps heading for the back porch on the hard packed gravel outside.

"Definitely her.", I said with a grim voice. "Fuck, I don't know if I can hack this."

"I know." she said. "Why couldn't she just leave us alone for a while?" she complained bitterly, having quickly removed her blouse, stuffing both articles behind the couch and throwing herself down as her tits bobbed in her nice white bra. "How am I supposed to smile at her when I feel like this?"

Dagmar stormed through the door, not even bothering to shut it behind her, with an expression that could only be described as, 'livid'. She wore a pair of snug fitting, black, pinstriped dress pants and a black, short sleeved blouse with white polka dots. A sort of large, hanging bowtie made of the same material hung down over her chest and I was irritated with myself for noting how good she looked in polka dots.

She came to a stop, there in the middle of the living room, glaring down at us.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two are just lying around without a fuckin care!" she spat.

We only looked back at her as we slowly got up.

We each greeted her properly. (and warily)

"Oh fuck off, you,... Fuuuck!"

"Mistress, what's wrong?" Heather timidly asked.

"Wrong!?" Dagmar raged as I watched her getting ever more worked up. "Why nothing's wrong, pet!", she viciously snapped.

Oh, something was wrong alright, and I had a feeling that this wasn't going to be a very enjoyable visit at all. Not that any of her visits were. 

"Only that I'm fucked! I'm fucked! Look at what happened, look at what I fuckin' did!" she yelled at us, her palms out as though pleading us to understand, even as her tone threatened that we'd better.

"Mistress, if you'd-"

"Shut uuup! You little fuck! This is all your fault!!" she charged, suddenly pointing at me, spittle popping from her mouth at impressive velocities. You! You and your,... fucking way you are! You made me soft!"

"What?" I asked, not believing I was hearing this.

"Don't take that tone with me! You have no idea what I've been going through all fuckin' day! Do you realize that I've ruined my reputation? I've turned myself into nothing more than a common old slapper, haven't I!? That's how they'll look at me now and how in hell am I supposed to look anyone in the eye now!!?" she shrilled, tears coming from her eyes.

"Mistress, he didn't do any-"

"Shut uuuupp! Was I speaking to youuu!!?

She was going nuclear.

"Mistress, please try to settle down." I respectfully implored her, "We understand how you feel, all day we-"

She grabbed me by the shirt and slapped me hard. She kept slapping me, beating with her palm more than whipping with her fingers. I backed off, putting up my hands to ward her off, but it was useless; she was out of control now and right on top of me.

"You understand!!?" she demanded. "What do you understand, you insignificant, submissive FUCKIN' WORRRRRMM!!? (SLAP!!) I'M FUCKIN RUINED! (SLAP!!) MY NAME IS A JOKE NOW AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!! (SLAPP!!) FUUUUUCK!!" (SLAPP!!) 

"Mistress, please stop!" Heather begged, quite alarmed now.

She wasn't the only one. Dagmar was being completely unreasonable and wasn't leaving us any way to satisfy her. Also, she was really starting to piss me off, because those slaps hurt a lot more than a little.

She let me go and made a grab for Heather, the blonde leaping back and tripping over the couch behind us, ending up sitting in it, but out of Dagmar's reach. That, however, was only a temporary condition as Dagmar began to move in on her anyway.

"Hey!" I barked, bringing her to a complete stop. "I said settle down!"

She slowly straightened again and turned to look at me, every one of her muscles trembling.

"What?" she asked menacingly. "I beg your god damned pardon, boy?"

I stood straight and tall, showing resolve in my expression and tone when I replied quietly, but firmly.

"You're upset. So are we and for the very same reason. We didn't ask-"

"That's right! You didn't ask! So what?" Have you forgotten what this is all about, boy!? I own you, remember? You ask nothing, you say nothing and you ARE nothing!!"

She came at me again, quickly, and this time cocking her fist. While noting Heather making a run for the bedroom behind Dagmar's back, I deflected her punch surprisingly easily (I somehow expected her to be like Wonder Woman) and bashed the side of her face with my palm as she'd done to me. It took her by complete surprise and she staggered to the side, almost falling.

"Youuuu,... struck me!!", she seethed, disbelievingly, now in a blacker rage than I could ever imagine. 

She came at me again, this time with real menace in her eyes, so I did it again, putting my shoulder into it and, this time, knocking her to the floor. She kind of sat there on the outside of her thigh, knees bent, palms flat on the floor and looking up at me, plenty of fight still in her eyes. She got up, coming at me again and I kept slapping her hard until she stopped trying and was lying full length on her front, me standing over her, breathing hard more from the emotional intensity than my exertion.

"I said settle the FUCK DOWN!!" I reminded her.

I had no idea what I was doing, what I would do, or how this would all turn out, other than that I'd had it with Dagmar Alejandro and her warped out, freakish ways of making my life the ever evolving, nightmarish stress trip it had become.

The beaten brunette slowly peeled her upper body from the floor and my heart broke a little at the expression I saw in her face, despite my extreme anger with her at the time, but it didn't stop me from grabbing two handfuls of the front of her polka dot blouse and roughly hauling her up to face me, nose to nose with all of my strength. The blouse shredded and I must have had some bra too, because both her tits came spilling out, the black lace cups torn from each other and hanging to the sides.

"Nooooooo!", She wailed, looking in my eyes, clearly frightened and probably thinking about what happened to Mistress Crush and all the bragging she did about what it took to handle a 'wilder'.

"You did it to yourself!" I yelled in her face. "And you did it to us too! You had control, you were the one calling the shots, you are the one who betrayed us and allowed all those strangers to use us, and you are the one who freely accepted the invitation to join in with your perverted little fuckin' three ring circus, inviting your spectators to join too! Your fault! Not mine!"

"I had too much to drink!" she wailed again in her defense, fists doubled and resting on my chest. "I got carried away, it's not my fault and you enjoyed it! Both of you did, I was there, I remember!"

"For god sakes, listen to yourself! You did those things because you wanted to! All of it!"

"Noooo!"

"Yes! And ya know why!? Because you're stuck in your stupid, Dominant lifestyle bullshit scene, exactly what you've accused others of doing! You liked them cumming in your face, you liked being handled by all those strange men, you want to be used like any woman, but you're just too fuckin' high minded to allow for it!"

She shook her head, denying this even as she dared to mull it over.

"No!? 'Suck his cock for me! Make him cum in your face for me! Fuck her up the ass for me! The list goes on and on, Dagmar, do I gotta continue!?"

"I,...! No! That's not,... not true!"

"You loved it! You loved when they came in your face! Didn't you!?"

"Yes, but-!"

"You're using us so you can stay respectable in your own mind! You're getting off vicariously through us, ruining our fuckin' lives if need be, all so you can convince yourself you're too good to want the things you do! So you make us do them and humiliate us for it, like you're humiliated that you're the one who actually craves it! Fuckin' coward!"

"Nooooo, you're a filthy liar!" Dagmar cried, quite literally.

"No, he's not." Heather said, standing at my side now without me noticing her return in my focus on Dagmar. "He hit the nail right on the head, that's exactly what you've been doing."

"I saved you two!"

"You're blackmailing David! How is that saving him? You know he didn't kill Kelly Preston, you just collected enough evidence at the scene so you could make it look like he did! He's innocent of any wrong doing at all, except to your overblown ego, and look how miserable you've made him! What have you got to say for yourself!? Heather demanded.

"Because,... I did it because,... I wanted him!" she whined. "I just wanted him, so I did what had to be done because I was lonely, okay!?"

"You wanted a toy!" Heather accused.

"No! I only wanted someone who could be what I needed him to be!"

"Like you needed me to be your dirty girl!? Your slut!? For you!?"

"Nooo, it's not like that!"

"Let's just see about that." Heather snapped. "You're not drunk now, so let's just see what it is like for you! Bring her over here!"

She walked briskly over to the kitchen table, looking back expectantly at me. Some of my anger was gone now, due to the way Heather had turned on. I remembered her telling me that she wasn't born yesterday as I hustled Dagmar along in her wake, more of her blouse shredding in the trip, her polka dot bowtie hanging over her bare, swaying boobs.

"What's going on?" Dagmar asked nervously, starting to fight me again. 

I grabbed her by the arms and, after a brief struggle, got her to the table in the kitchen.

"H-hey, what's going on?"

Heather grinned wickedly, saying, "I told you, Mistress, we're gonna see what it's like with you." 

She grabbed a tea towel that was hanging on the refrigerator door and climbed up on the table while I, grinning back at her now, dropped my pants, allowing my rapidly hardening prick to get free.

Before she could say anything to this, I spun her around and shoved her face down over the table, straight into Heather, who grabbed her wrists and quickly looped the tea towel around them.

"Hey!" Dagmar yelled as I tore the back of her dress pants open."

"Boy, stop!" she tried. (unbelievably)

Heather finished a fast knot, convincing me she must have been in the Girl Guides, or something, and yanked the disadvantaged brunette towards her, between her spread legs.

"We'll start with you sucking my pussy,... for me."

"Pet, I've always been good to you! Help me and you won't regre- Uhhh!!", she grunted, jerking violently backward. "No, stop it boy! Stop! Pet, please!", she finished as I tore her black panties from her body and out the hole I made in the back of her pants with both my hands.

"I said, suck my pussy, Mistress." Heather reminded, yanking her forward again by the towel wrapped around her wrists and sliding forward. 

She let go with one hand and grabbed a handful of black hair at the back of her Mistress's head, shoving her face into her snatch.

"Lick me. Make me cum all over your beautiful face. You know you want me to."

"Mnlaaampp!"

"Yeah, she's wet." I said, receiving an angry sound from between Heather's legs in reply.

I unceremoniously shoved my full length straight into her, ramming her through the hole in her pants, roughly driving her pelvis against the edge of the weighted table in the process.

"AHHHHHH!! OH-HHH!!" Dagmar protested before Heather could drive her face back into her pussy.

I immediately started slamming her hard and deep, making her scream disjointedly into Heather, but I didn't relent. I treated her with no regard whatsoever and enjoyed it quite a bit, not even caring what her retribution would be. Heather certainly wasn't worried.

"C'mon, suck it! Lick my clit and suck like you taught me, I don't want your half measures!"

I had her by the hips and was enjoying the pace, the act, her desperate, halting howls of protest. Kicking her feet further apart, I took a better, deeper angle, grabbing her by the back of her ruined shirt and bra strap, hauling her into me with each thrust as Heather joyfully and shamelessly ground her pussy into her face. Suddenly, she stopped and raised Dagmar's head by a fistful of hair.




Changes Ch. 08



"Hey, Mistress.", she laughed. "Know what I think? I think you should be fucked right up the ass."

"Oh, no! Pet, please, I'm a virgin back,... there.", she trailed off, watching Heather laugh all the harder, no doubt remembering how Heather tried to tell her that the night before.

"All the more reason. Yes, you've convinced me."

"Noooooo, please, I'm sorry! Please, pet, please don't! I'll never-! Ahhh! AHHHH! NOOOOO!" she yelled as I started pushing at her back door with my middle finger, already lubed up with her essence.

"Keep sucking my pussy, Mistress." Heather brusquely ordered, shoving Dagmar's desperate features between her legs again.

Her beautiful hips and thighs trembled as I invaded to the knuckle, slowly plunging in and out as I fucked her. Before long, I switched to my thumb, enjoying the sight of her trying to squirm away from it.

"That's it, use your tongue." Heather approved, looking down at the top of her head. 

She no longer held her by the arms, instead Dagmar's tied hands rested just below Heathers tits, her long, black nails dancing nervously over her submissive's bare skin as her incoherent tone became more frantic at the steady insertion of my probing thumb.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" she asked Dagmar. "I can see you are, you must be very slutty. I mean to enjoy eating out a woman while your own male submissive gets ready to fuck your ass from behind like you're some common bitch? I would have thought you were better than that."

"Mmmmmmmmmm!!" Dagmar cried in her defense.

"But you're doing very good on my pussy. You're- Ahh, Mistress! What a good cunt licker you are!"

"Mmm-hmmm-hmmmm!!" Dagmar sobbed.

And then my cockhead was pressing against her ass and, again, she tried to squirm away, only to be stopped by the edge of the table. I began to slowly work my way in, not quite as slowly and carefully as I did with Heather, but slow enough for Dagmar, I figured.

"Uhhhhh! Noo, please pet, don't do this to me!" she begged, managing to tear her face away from between Heather's legs.

It actually had an effect on me. I felt bad for her with that pleading expression, her shame and fear so evident as she looked back at me and, as I even told Heather and as unwarranted as they were, it wasn't as if I didn't have some feelings for her. Heather must have seen my hesitation and pity.

"Try to relax your sphincter, Mistress, it'll hurt a lot less that way."

"Oh god, no!"

"And soon, it'll be very nice for you." Heather finished, glancing up at me for a second before adding, "Isn't that what you told me last night? Hm?"

 "I'm sorry! Ple- OWWWWWWWW! NOOOOO- OWWWWWWWW!"

Heather let her watch while I slowly worked my way in, my Mistress's mouth open in disbelief, expelling pained and affronted sounds, but no longer pleading or looking at me, only at what I was doing.

"Relax, Mistress. Oh, you look so pretty with a cock in your ass, don't you?" Heather teased, fingering herself now as she watched. "I'll bet you wish you had another cock to suck right now. Slutty woman, but you know we love you for it. (giggle)

"Uhhh! Ahhhhhh! Owwwwww! Ohhhhhhhhh!! Guuuuuuuhhhh!!"

"Ohhhh, a lot of nice cum on your face? Mmmmm, I love how it shows up against your dark complexion, you know. And in that- Uhnn! Uhhh! -nice, thick, beautiful, black hair!"

I was all the way in, my hands resting on her hips now as I moved it around with my pelvic muscles, testing her ability to stay relaxed and even grinding her just a little. I'm still not sure if it was her particular biology that made it so good, or if it was the plain and simple fact that it was Dagmar's ass that my prick was buried in, but it definitely was good.

"Ohhhhhhhh! Awwwwwww! Oooooooooohh!?"

I drew slowly out to start pumping the saucer eyed brunette that owned me as she gasped long and loud, as if to say, "Well, I never!".

"Oh, god!" Heather piped. Oh, fuck, I lo-! Hohhhhh! Love seeing,... you like this! Uhhhfffuuu! Oh, fuck! Suck my cunt, Mistress!"

Heather pressed Dagmar's face back between her legs, humping her mouth urgently. She ground out three long, gravelly yells through her clenched teeth as she came, her considerable squirt drenching Dagmar's face as she struggled uselessly to move away while I fucked her beautiful ass.

"Ohhh, yeah! Ohhh, god, that was so good! Ohhh, yeah! Lick me clean, Mistress. Uhh! Yeah, lick,...! Mmmmmmmmmm! Yeah, get it all, you nasty little cunt licker!"

I was pumping away quite happily at this point and, like with Heather the night before, I could feel Dagmar adjusting to it, beginning to indeed enjoy it as her muted shrilling began to demonstrate.

Heather then helped Dagmar raise her upper body, me taking over with my hands at her sides as Heather attacked her tits and nipples with mouth and fingers. Dagmar's tied hands were now supporting her on the tabletop in front of her, rather than being used in her now abated struggles.

"Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" Dagmar exclaimed.

"Fuck!" I breathed in her ear, getting close. "Oh, fuck, Mistress! I'm gonna blow my load right in your face!"

"Ohhh-ohhhh-ohhhh-ohhh-ohhhh!!"

Over her shoulder, I could see Heather really going to town, pinching her nipple with her fingers to the point of pain, nibbling and biting the other, squeezing and sucking here and there while her spray slowly stopped its trickle down Dagmar's face, cleavage and breasts.

"'Cause you really do look good with cum on your face!" I panted.

"Ohhhhhhh!! Ooooooooooohh, pet!"

"I'm sooo glad you introduced me to this!"

"Nn-nnhhaaaaaaaa!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!"

"You're gonna cum, aren't you?" I teased. "And nobody's even touching your pussy; you love it!"

"Oh, god! OH, GOD! NNNOOOOOOO! OHHHH, FUUUUUUCKK!"

I managed to keep screwing her until she was mostly finished her orgasm before I whipped myself out of her, dragged her off the table and to the floor on her knees.

"Jerk him off in your face, Mistress!" Heather ordered, looking down from the tabletop.

Dagmar's eyes looked like they were going to roll and close in a faint, but she grabbed my cock and did as she was told, dousing her tear stained face in my seed, pumping my cock until no more would come out.

"Yeaaah! Yeaaaaaaah!" Heather approved, watching the whole thing with a very satisfied grin. "That's one dirty, slutty fuckin' woman."

I sat heavily in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, looking at Dagmar. It turned out that she was still crying and I remember how strange it was to feel so satisfied, yet so regretful at the same time. But she deserved it, no matter what kind of blowback Heather and I may eventually suffer. It didn't matter, something had to be done.

After a minute, where we just watched her stare into her lap, crying softly, she awkwardly got to her feet. Putting a hand over her ass, a forearm over her chest, she hobbled slowly for the door without a word or glance at us.

"Where are you going?" Heather asked carelessly.

Our Mistress stopped and, after a pause, said without turning in a low, flat voice, "Unless you're planning on detaining, or killing me, I'm going home to decide your fates."

"Oh.", Heather replied, casually slipping off the table, distractedly checking the nails of her right hand as though she'd damaged one while force feeding Dagmar her pussy. "Whatever. Yes, you can go."

After a short pause, Dagmar began plodding her way to the door again.

"Oh, by the way, Mistress, thanks so much for the use of that video camera."

This time, Dagmar Alejandro came to a very abrupt halt. This time, she slowly turned and set two disbelieving eyes on Heather as I did the very same thing.

"And you're right, it really is a pretty good one. I'm sure it caught every single little detail from the bedroom, not to mention your little admission concerning Kelly Preston and our good friend David, here. See, it just came to me in a flash. Yeah, there I was, huddled on the couch, waiting for you to beat me half to death and, 'Poink!' There it was. So, when your back was turned,... Weeeeell, I kinda scampered in there and set it up on the dresser. Great angle, I'm sure. Anyhow, after you leave, we're going out to make a lot of copies of that footage and spread them around to a lot of different hiding places where they can be,... accessed. I'd like to see the team that can tell you with no uncertainty that there's no more of them floating around out there somewhere."

Dagmar's forearm dropped from her chest as her jaw dropped to the floor. She wasn't even crying anymore, just completely and, understandably, stunned.

"I think it would be in your best interests to come have a sit-down with us, Mistress. I think we have a few things we need to, umm,... work out?"

Heather closed the distance between them and respectfully took Dagmar's arm, gently leading her to the couch while gesturing with her eyes that I should come as well.

I shook myself out of my own little stupor and pulled my pants back up before joining them on the couch, Dagmar between us. Heather had one hand on her shoulder, the other on her thigh as if comforting her. What was her game now?

"Well, why don't I start?" Heather suggested. "Now that everyone's all settled and ready to listen, I mean. First and foremost, I think it's pretty safe to say that we're free of you, isn't that so, Mistress?"

It was true. It hadn't really occurred to me until she spelled it out for Dagmar, but it was true. And the irony! That the person I once considered a gold digging idiot and a parasite had actually done it, had in fact brought Dagmar down! I looked at the lovely, opportunistic blonde, for whom I'd grown real feelings for, with no small amount of respect.

" ... You're free of me.", Dagmar admitted in a defeated tone so quiet that I wouldn't have heard it had I not been sitting right there.

"Especially once you consider how far reaching this is. I mean, the fact that you can influence cops will go over like,... Wow! Well, I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but I do want you to be aware of just how aware I am of what this would do to you, especially since you took such pains to do it for us."

Dagmar shook her head subtly, looking down into her lap. I could only imagine what she was thinking.

"So, if we leave, ('if'?) after you give David all his money back, you're not going to cause us any trouble, lest you bring it on yourself, are you?"

"No.", she answered in the same small tone, like a girl who'd been caught setting glass bottles out on the highway.

"That's nice to hear, Mistress, because despite everything, I'd hate to have it come to that and I know David agrees, don't you, baby?

"Yes.", I agreed readily. "What do you mean, 'if' we leave?"

"Well, it's possible that our Mistress still wants us. We may be free of her, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we should leave her. Does it?"

"What!?"

Even Dagmar's head lifted partway at this.

"Our only problem with Mistress is how she abuses us and she only got away with abusing us because she could. Now we're free of her and she'd have to act with more respect, especially now that she knows from every angle what it's like to be personally humiliated and degraded and used like a sheep."

"Heh! No. I'm leaving, with or without you. I'd hate to do it, sweets, but I am so fuckin' outta here-"

"Look, can you not give me just an ounce of credit at this point?" Heather asked. "Just listen and think before you decide to run off this time."

I threw up my palms and let them fall to my lap, rolling my eyes and shaking my head in temporary surrender.

"What were you going to do?" she asked. "Where were you going to go? Another town, another shitty, depressing life that you'll eventually run out on so you can feel free for a time, rather than dealing and making something of your life somewhere? You don't even know what happiness is, and I doubt you ever did. Mistress was exactly right about you. And look at me, what was I? Just a gold digger, like you knew. A prostitute, you might even say. I was lost and so were you, but we're not lost now. Are we? Mistress needs us and we need her too."

"That's a pretty hard sell, blondie." I told her.

"You know it's true, frenchie. She knew things about us, told us what we are and made us see it, whether you want to admit it or not. We're misfit runaways and she's,... another kind of misfit. I'm sorry, Mistress, but you know it's true."

"This is fucked." I informed her.

"Well, duh! Yeah, it's fucked, but look at what Mistress did to have you near and dear. She was that lonely, and she picked you to go to those lengths for. You have to admit, it blows a date at Tim Horton's right out of the water."

Now Dagmar was looking right at Heather, a different kind of surprise on her jismed face.

"And she actually liked me enough to get me away from Bryan, and she's right when she says he would have been caught sooner or later and I probably would have gone down with him. And you know what else?" she asked, regarding Dagmar with a smile. "She's as smart as you told me she was, and I'm sure she knew me for the gold digger I was, even if Bryan didn't, but she still took me. I'm perfectly willing to stay with Mistress and you should too, if you know what's good for you. Umm, that is,... if you'll have us, Mistress."

I couldn't believe it, but Dagmar began crying again. She nodded and earned a kiss from Heather. Then Dagmar actually hugged her, Heather hugging back, patting her shoulders and comforting her! (fuck me!)

After a moment, they separated and Heather looked at me with welled up eyes, sniffed a little and said, "It's okay, she'll be reasonable and things will be a lot better, right, Mistress?"

Dagmar managed to look at me and somewhat jerkily nodded, adding, "I promise,... Things will be better. I'm- Please stay, pet?"

I remembered the conversation we had in the car then, how she admitted that there would be no memorial on the sidewalk for her, any more than there would for me. Even at the time, it was a bit of a touching, albeit morbid, moment of honesty between us.

Then, for some reason, I thought of that letter from Gary that I'd never opened.

"I really do care for both of you." she offered in a small voice.

"And I'm not going anywhere." Heather said. I'm staying, whether you leave us or not. David, she brought us together. We have feelings for one another that we've admitted to, as well as our feelings for Mistress. This could be so much more, like neither of the three of us has ever had, you know that. And besides, if we did leave together, how long do you really think we'd last without Mistress, being the way we are? We need her like she needs us."

"(siiiigghhhh!) Alright! Yes."

They both smiled and hugged me, Dagmar kissing me as well, crying into my shoulder and thanking me as Heather's tears finally ran down her cheeks. I couldn't blame her, with the lump in my throat.

After a minute, when we were all just looking a little uncomfortably at one another in this new situation that I never would have seen coming in a bazillion years, Dagmar spoke falteringly.

"I do need you both. I didn't realize it,... I have no,... You're the only people who won't laugh at me. I'm so sorry,..."

"I know you are, Mistress." I told her sincerely. "I do believe you, but I hope you understand that this doesn't mean you get our footage, since I can never know if I'd get all the evidence."

"That's true." Heather said, "But trust is one of those little issues we have to work on, isn't it? I think that in time, all of our evidence and Mistress's will be destroyed and they'll be no question of that in anyone's mind."

I nodded, satisfied with that, but warned, "We still have to deal with Mistress's social condition. It's really not a big deal for us in that sense, but I can well imagine it would be for her."

"She's strong and she has us, she'll deal."

"No. She has to be what she is and she won't be if she's always ashamed to face up to anyone, even if it's only a little ashamed in time, 'cause by then,... It's not good for her, and therefore not good for us."

They both looked at me, Dagmar with hope in her eyes that I could deal with this. And she was right to hope.

I gave her a small, affectionate smile, and said, "Mistress,... Heather's gonna take you into the bathroom and get you cleaned up and then into some clothes. Then, she's gonna take you out the road to your place and help you pack a bag, or two. I'll meet you both there later and we'll be gone from here and all your problems before nightfall."

"Uhh,...", Heather put in. "I don't think we should start out by-"

"No!" Dagmar interrupted. "We should. Of course we should, pets. You're right, I need to,... I need to get far away from here and the people I know."

"Are you sure, Mistress?" What about your job?"

"I could just drop by and sign the release forms-"

"Don't bother." I said. "That's not how this is done, you're taking care of yourself here, that's all. Just pack light and remember your cell phone and laptop, or whatever you do personal business with, and you're all set."

"Maybe you're right." Heather agreed, thoughtful now. "Maybe it would be better if the three of us started again somewhere else, leave all this here, behind us."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Toronto?" I asked in passing.

            ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

In another house, on another lonely, rural road and four months later, I stood in our new bedroom in our nice new mini-home with Gary's letter in my hand.

Dagmar bought the land, half cleared the trees and had the new, split level mini-home delivered along with a shop in the backyard. It was a beautiful spot and, as usual, Dagmar knew exactly what we wanted. She herself had yet another, even more luxurious condo in Whistler, twenty minutes away, and would often come to visit, as she had on this day.

Life was good, the promise of that better future coming through for all three of us as we adjusted to each other's needs, wants, failings and expectations with a new understanding, but it was around the anniversary of Gary's depressing suicide that it all seemed to feel unreal somehow, that a grim reality was lurking just outside the door and I had to open it sooner or later. It began to weigh on my mind, so much so that Heather began asking what was wrong with me. I put her off, but I should have known she'd tell Mistress, just as she eventually did about my drinking habits. 

Dagmar, Heather standing stubbornly beside her, insisted I tell her what was up, so I relented and told them the whole fucked up story. She solemnly insisted on reading the letter, telling me that if it was bad, I didn't have to read it, that if it was good, it would only help to put the incident behind me all the sooner. Of course, I gave in, what with both of them at me. 

So, there I was, holding the letter, staring at it and remembering him up to that final time I saw him in the bar, trying to decide what he'd want to tell me, what his state of mind must have been. Turning from the dresser, I slowly left the room, walked down the short, split level hall and down the stairs. They were sitting, waiting for me at the kitchen table.

"Let's have it, pet."

Heather looked at me with worried eyes as I handed it over, then sat beside her and across from Mistress. I looked out the window at the peaceful scenery as she removed a silver letter opener from her purse (who carried letter openers around, anyway?) and calmly cut through the top of the envelope with it. Putting the opener back in her purse, she now removed her reading glasses, which I personally found to be incredibly sexy on her, and put them on, then removed the paper from inside the envelope, unfolding and reading it.




Changes Ch. 08



Dagmar's brow sharpened. At one point she actually closed her eyes for a moment, only barely shaking her head before moving on. When she was done, she refolded the paper, removed her glasses and regarded me with an almost curious expression, dropping the letter on the table in front of her.

Saying nothing for the moment, she stood and gestured with her head that Heather should come over and read the letter. They traded chairs, Dagmar turning hers to face me as Heather sat and picked up the folded loose-leaf.

"Turn your chair, pet, I want to tell you something and I want you paying attention." she said firmly.

Once turned, she sat forward, running her fingers through my hair as if to neaten it before speaking with an apologetic smile.

"What you told me about Gary rings very true from what he wrote. And, after you told me about the problems in his life, before I even read that letter, I knew that you were completely justified in leaving him there to his fate, as it were. He would have dragged you down, he would have been a dead weight that you would have had to support until he got into trouble, and then what? You'd have had to leave him somewhere anyway, if he didn't drag you down with him."

"What the ffff-?" Heather hissed.

"You did the right thing, pet, don't ever think any different. You were never responsible for him when he was alive, and you're not now that he's dead, either. You understand?"

"Yes. But it's hard to live in the facts sometimes, Mistress."

"Hard for you. It's a negative side effect of natural loyalty, you might say. But he made his choices, didn't he? Would you have made them for him? Were you qualified, would he have listened if you were? We only have ourselves to blame for our choices, and that includes him."

"Asshole!" Heather exclaimed incredulously as Mistress rolled her eyes. "A grade-A, first class assh-!"

"Yes, girl, okay, I could have said that, but I didn't, did I?"

"Sorry, Mistress."

"Okay, now I gotta read it for myself." I said.

"No.", they both replied in harmony.

"Is it that bad?"

"He was obviously in a very bad place when he wrote this, I mean to even mail it afterwards,... Look, he fixated on you, he,... he meant for that letter to cut you as deeply as it could, and it was all completely unjustified."

"Total fucking bullshit."

"Girl, would you please stop interrupting me?"

"Sorry, Mistress."

"Not yet, you're not, but keep it up and you will be."

"Yes, Mistress."

" ... As I was about to say, pet, I don't want you reading the details, because you don't have to. You know all you need to know about that letter; yes, it's bad, but it's not your problem, or anything you should think about, or allow to mess you up. I understand it'll be on your mind a little while, but work to get over it and remember what I'm telling you, not what your baseless guilt and some depressed mood may tell you and don't start hitting the bottle again! For all you know, you're just one person on a list of people who received a letter like that from him."

Heather stuffed the envelope with the letter into Dagmar's purse, nodding encouragingly at me and what Dagmar was saying. And she was right. I knew that and knew that I really did know all I needed about the contents of that letter. I'm not saying that I was over it, just sort of unstressed about it and in a place where I could finally put that thing out of my mind. The damned letter had been dealt with and now there was just the memories that it left behind.

I slowly smiled a little as I looked at Dagmar, and said, "You're wise, Mistress."

Just like a proper Dominant is supposed to be.



Changes Ch. 08



Author's Notes: 

(1) As a summary to date, Steve has now been methodically changed into a consensually obedient sexual partner and loving spouse for Sarah. His cross dressing habit dove-tailed nicely with Sarah's latent desire to dominate. They needed each other now more than ever before. She played him like a fiddle, introducing bondage and erotic humiliation as tools to dominate him, and he began to look at life from the other side now, the submissive traditionally female side, and the wall dividing his duality of genders began to fade and rebuild behind him as he changed, all retreat to the past blocked as he slid uncontrollably, but joyfully, into the future.

(2) Even though I have given you a summary above, please read the earlier chapters, as they fill in the blanks way more eloquently than this brief discussion.

*****

The next step in our life together was logical and obvious. At least looking back, it had to happen. I had only been corseted for a week or so when Sarah came home from work on a Tuesday night and declared, "I've invited Julie and Mitch over for supper, wine and a movie on Friday night. We haven't seen them in months, not since you started being Stephanie."

I poured her a glass of wine and sat down with her at the kitchen island. I still wasn't accustomed to the rigidity of the corset and I sat ramrod straight, with my breasts flipping upwards so that I couldn't see my feet which were crossed at the ankles under the bar stool. I never got tired of the feeling and sound of my nylons slipping past each other as I sat in this way. 

Her declaration didn't startle me, but I wondered aloud, "Okay. It'll be good to see them. Thanks for the warning. I'll have to remember to take my nail polish off. I wonder what would hide my corset best. Any ideas? By the way, where did you put my men's clothes? Jeez, it's been awhile."

Sarah took a sip of wine and said, "Stephie, really? I invited them over to meet YOU, not Steve. You can cook your best dish, the stroganoff, and then we can all get used to the idea of having Stephie around instead of Steve. It's time, well past time."

I was aghast. "What? Have you told them about me Sarah? Have you?"

"No," she said coyly, "Not quite everything. They know you dress up, but I didn't share our sex life, if that's what you mean."

I was irritated. "Not QUITE everything? So, they think I'm a... Sarah, I'm not a..." Then I must have looked like I had been struck by lightning.

Sarah laughed and prompted, "A transvestite, a woman?"

I sat in confused silence. I hadn't worn men's clothes for months now. I was corseted and I had polished gel nails. My body hair had been removed by blade and chemical, my own hair was long and styled, and I wore makeup daily. The only things that had yet to be done to me were plucking my eyebrows, getting breast implants, and hormone replacement therapy; otherwise, for all intents and purposes, I was female.

She continued, "Well, what are you then, if you're not a woman or a transvestite? A drag queen? No, I wouldn't allow it. A man? Physically, yes. But really? Dressing and acting like you do? If you cut your balls and penis off, no one would know the difference (well, I would in bed) ; you're living as a female now, aren't you? Admit it for God's sake, so we can get on with life and have friends over! Be what you want to be! I don't care if you pick and choose whether you want to be a man or a woman on any given day, but we have to have a social life. And that means our friends have to know."

It felt like I was talking to Captain Obvious suddenly, or like I had been slapped on the forehead by someone saying, "Snap out of it! This is not a dream!" 

"You mean just be either male or female, anytime and anywhere I want to be? Honestly, I never thought I had a choice like that; I just assumed it was one or the other on a permanent basis but only in certain situations. I don't know what I was thinking really. I just, I thought, I just assumed we could go on like this forever, just you and me, like this..." I looked down at my skirt for reference.

Sarah just frowned and tilted her head at me.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, "I have to come out, don't I? I mean, really out. Oh shit."

Sarah was forceful, vulgar, and blunt. "Yes, you fucking well have to! You have three choices: (1) you stop being a woman and we go back to the way it was before; or (2) you continue to be a woman and keep it confined to just behind closed doors; or (3) you continue to be a woman and you come out of the closet to our friends and the world. I don't think the first two options are viable, and quite frankly those two options will likely mean that we split up; it's inevitable, even though we love each other; it's just unsustainable. Sometimes it works that way. The third option means that you can choose to be a woman when you want to be, any place, any time, and with anyone we choose...total freedom."

I started pacing nervously, but with increasing excitement. "That would be freeing, wouldn't it?" I said, smiling sheepishly at Sarah.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No kidding. We haven't been with our friends for months and I'm tired of making excuses. I told Julie you'd be dressed to the nines on Friday, but they didn't need to be. They'll be here at 6:00."

"What did they say? I mean, what did they say when you told them about me?"

Sarah laughed. "That was the funny part. They already knew. They came by one day when I was at work to say hello to you and just as they were about to ring the bell, they peeked through the glass in the front door and saw you. They left, too embarrassed to follow through or even mention it to me until I told them all about you. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah, real funny. Ha. Ha. Ha," I said in deadpan, "I must admit, it'll be good to see them. But jeez, now I know how Caitlin Jenner felt. There's fantasy and then there's the real world. We can never live in isolation can we? And we have to be ourselves."

I stopped pacing. "You're right, of course. So be it! Friday night."

Friday arrived and I had the stroganoff ready by 5:00, giving me enough time to change out of my maid's outfit that Sarah had locked onto me with mocking glee that morning. She told me that if I didn't do a good job housecleaning and preparing the meal, I would have to present myself like this to Julie and Mitch. She enjoyed threatening me like that, and I always got a rush from the humiliation of it even though we both knew it was a dance we did together and we liked the same music. She wouldn't really follow through on her promise. At least I don't think she would. Actually I'm not sure. Anyway, the cleaning was done well, and the meal was tasted and declared okay by my "mistress", as I sometimes called her now. We laughed and she said, "Now I'll dress you up for the change of your life. Go take your corset off and get showered. I have an extra surprise for you too."

I smiled and shook my head. Never a dull moment with this woman.

When I was done showering and shaving my legs, chest and underarms, I saw her through the steam of the glass shower door leaning against the bathroom doorway with a mischievous look on her face. As I dried myself, she sprung her surprise. "You remember that teensy-weensy little steel butt plug you wore when we first went out as women, the time we met Roger and Gord?"

"Yeah, why?" I said with trepidation.

"Well, this is the grand-daddy of that one and most others."

There it was, an overwhelming looking stainless steel device with a tapered head about an inch and a half in diameter, and an angled shank which graded into an actual handle so that the user could hold it more easily as it was being inserted or worked around.

"Seriously?" I said, "That's huge!"

"Yup. Sure is. Heavy too. And it's angled so it'll press on your prostate constantly from what I've read. I hear that can drive a man wild. You'll be dripping in your panties all night."

My lips curled back in fear as I said, "Umm, just how am I going to get that thing into my ass? Jesus, it's big!"

"Get on your hands and knees," Sarah said with a grin, "And don't call me Jesus; I'm your Goddess."

I was used to obeying her now when she got in these fanciful moods. It was always good for me when I did and it never was when I didn't. It took a ton of lube and lots of time and patience before she finally popped it in, relieving the intense pain from expansion of my anal area to allow the bulbous business end to pass. Once it was inserted however, it smoothly slipped right up against my prostate. I gasped and moaned with a pleasure I had never felt before. The weight of it was immediately noticeable, and when I stood up straight and moved my hips a bit it seemed to move in a way independent of my own movements, always stroking, touching, massaging. I immediately relaxed after it popped in, and the breadth of the head allowed it to stay in without me even tightening my sphincter. It just hung there, unable to exit because of its breadth. Miraculously it didn't hurt; it only stimulated like an electric current.

Sarah laughed and said, "Wow, once it got past the point of no return, it almost went in like it was pulled by a magnet. Good thing it has a wide handle; it would have disappeared. The lady at the store told me to tell you to do some deep knee bends to allow it to settle in where it should be."

I did and I immediately started to moan and whimper like a little girl. My penis stood at attention and I wanted to come desperately. "Jesus...uh, I mean Goddess! I had no idea this could feel like this. Maybe a little delight before they arrive?" I said hopefully and breathlessly.

Sarah gave me that look and said, "No, not now. Think about your evening. You're going to be sitting down on that butt plug all evening and every time you get up, it'll shift until you sit on it again and shove it in so deeply and it's going to feel so, so good, isn't it? Later tonight, you're going to want to be fucked so badly. Aren't you baby?"

"I hope you don't mean what I think you mean," I said. But secretly I did. Her voice was so smooth and teasing and authoritative and full of absolute confidence. Julie and Mitch were but sideshows to what was going to happen when they left, and Sarah made sure that I would be reminded of that every time I sat down or shifted in my seat. Delicious torture. All evening. A double whammy of coming out with my fetishes, with the overhanging promise of unknown sexual pleasures or tortures later.

This evening I attached my silicone padding and my breasts to my skin with a special temporary surgical adhesive that Sarah had found. That allowed me to wear only a small panty girdle to hide my penis, instead of the much larger long-leg girdle I was accustomed to. I stood up and put my arms up as Sarah laced me back into my corset. 

God I loved it even then, long before I reduced my waist to what it is now. As Sarah laced it ever tighter, I got that exquisite feeling of rigidity that I craved, combined with the submission of will that it demanded. My waist was nipped by about three inches that night and my hips felt compressed as well, causing my butt cheeks to push together and bury the butt plug even further within me. When I put my arms down, my chest was already puffed out from displacement of stomach flesh, and the silicone breast forms jutted upward with a perky attitude. The fatty tissue now under them caused them to bounce freely, pulling on my upper pectoral muscles almost painfully with the weight because of the adhesive. They were supported only when I cradled them in the cups of the pink bra. After pulling up my Lycra reinforced shimmer black stockings and fastened them to the garters, I looked like a hooker in a brothel waiting for a client.

I sighed with contentment. I never felt better than when I was fully confined in girdles or corsets; there's no better feeling than to be freed in this way, a paradox of enslavement and freedom, the puzzle that was me. 

Tonight I wore a white form fitting blouse which was actually a body suit with snaps at the crotch to keep it in place. Sarah had been complaining that I was being sloppy lately with letting my blouses escape over top of my skirts. Ruined the look, she said. I snapped it in place and wiggled a bit to let it settle where it should. My breasts were so prominent that it was almost embarrassing, like being nude, and the long sleeves were tight to my skin as well, ending with a touch of lace at the wrists. Sarah had chosen a skirt that had no chance of revealing my penis underneath, as it flared from the waist and hung in vague pleats. It was a heavy satin-like fabric and draped nicely from my hips to mid-thigh. Every step I took caused the weight of it to slap into my thighs, but at least it didn't hobble my gait like many of the pencil skirts and dresses that Sarah liked me to wear each evening.

Sarah stood back and thought about my look, left the room and came back with a wide red elastic belt which she fastened around my waist, drawing attention to my pinched figure. It matched perfectly with the bright red fingernail polish and the red sandal foot stilettos which I now fastened with a dainty strap around my ankles.

By the time I completed my makeup and fixed my hair, it was almost time. I sipped on a glass of Pinot Grigio while Sarah, the ultimate female, made it all look easy, just slipping into some Lulu Lemon tights and top with a wrap skirt and sandals. A touch of makeup and a brush of her hair and she was done. 

And I was overdressed.

She looked at me and smiled. "Don't worry. I told them you liked to dress up, I mean, really dress up."

She saw my look of apprehension. I wanted to get drunk.

"Yes, they'll be shocked, I know. Everyone will be, especially the guys. By the way, that reminds me, I've invited a different set of friends over every Friday night for the next few weeks, so everyone can meet Stephanie. After all that we can have a party with whoever remains friends with us, maybe a barbeque in the backyard. You can decide for yourself whether you want to be a woman for the big barbeque or not, because by that time, you'll be completely out of the closet; you can be who you want and choose to be. No more skulking around behind closed doors."

"I feel like a pervert," I said. I slurped the wine. Those old feelings of shame and guilt rose up like a tsunami, ready to wash me out to sea.

Sarah had a way of helping me that was unique. "Oh honey," she soothed, "You are a pervert. So what. I love you. I guess that makes me a pervert too, and the way I've been getting off on this lately, that certainly is true. But perverts walk alone; the perverted part ends when you come out of the closet. We'll find out who our friends are, who they really are. Won't we?" She touched her lips to mine so as not to mess up our lipsticks, and left to answer the doorbell.

The doorbell. Jesus. My pulse raced.

I walked behind her to the door and stood shaking in my high heels as Julie and Mitch entered, first handing Sarah a bottle of her favorite Shiraz. There was an awkward moment and then Sarah and Julie embraced, followed by Sarah and Mitch. That left me to wait for favors, and they came instantly and warmly.

Julie said, "Steve, Stephanie, whatever...you look beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous! How do you do this? Incredible! And what have you done with Steve?" And she gave me a warm hug and a peck on the cheek while touching me affectionately at my new feminine waist.

I laughed nervously and said, "Well, thanks. Believe me, it's harder for me than you. I don't have the canvas to start with that you do. You look great."

Mitch was six foot six and carried 240 pounds. He came forward warmly but awkwardly, first putting out his hand for a manly handshake, then pulling it back and after shuffling briefly, hesitantly giving me a light hug, our hips three miles apart.

"Well," he said, "That was weird. Uh, you look great I guess. Unbelievable actually. I mean, as a woman. You look like a woman. Jesus, are those real?" He pointed at my breasts. He was like that, direct and innocent like a child.

I laughed and said, "My little secret, among others. How've you been buddy? I've been, umm, sort of distracted for the past few months becoming, uh, this."

"Jesus Steve, I would never have guessed this of you. I must admit, I don't understand it, but whatever...it's still you I guess."

I started to feel a little better then, and I took the wine from Sarah and invited everyone to the living room while I opened the wine in the kitchen. From there I yelled in to the other room, "And Mitch, tonight I'm Stephanie. Any slip ups on that and you'll have to chug a glass of wine."

I didn't see him, but I heard him laugh and say, "Well, bring that wine in here right now...STEVE." And so the ice was broken. I couldn't believe it; they accepted me for who I was, and it was a huge relief.

As we got into the wine we sat around and caught up on the details of our lives over the last few months. It was easy talk, but I did notice Mitch occasionally staring at my waist or my breasts or legs. Finally, and because Mitch was simply like this, he asked me some questions. When he started everyone groaned.

"So, Stephanie," he said, "I have to know. How the heck do you do it? You've got hips and breasts and a waist. And your face...you look so, uh, female. Have you had a bunch of surgery or something?"

Coming from anyone else I would have been insulted and put off, but this was Mitch and he harmlessly needed to know. I smiled and said, "No surgery. Just silicone breast inserts and some silicone hip padding, and I, uh, I wear, I wear a corset." I felt awkward talking about my underwear.

"A corset? Really? All the time?"

"Yes."

"And you wear a bra and panties, stuff like that?"

I was laughing and red-faced under my makeup. "Yes."

Then he asked a question I couldn't answer, "So, is this permanent, or are you just having fun finding your feminine side?"

"Uh," I said, "Good question." I looked at Sarah and hoped she would step in. She didn't. She wanted to know too I guess. "I'd say permanent if it didn't sound so final."

I didn't know how absurd that statement sounded until everyone started laughing. Yogi Berra would have been proud of me. But for me, I meant every word and it seemed correct in every sense. I was afraid that if I said it was permanent, then it would be, and Steve would be lost forever. I wasn't quite ready for that.

"The corset is permanent," I offered weakly, "I like the way it feels."

There was disbelief at this and an awkward silence ensued as Julie processed how she hated the feel of the corset she wore for Mitch once in a while for special sexual occasions, and as Mitch tried to process why any man would want to wear one as an accessory to becoming a woman.

Sarah stepped in and asked me to get the supper on the table while the three of them sat at their places. I found this mildly humiliating, as it was intended, and I noticed that Mitch was puzzled by this division of labor now exposing itself in our house, but he remained kind and good humored as I brought the food to the table. Sarah poured the wine all around and the real fun started. These were friends. And it was clear that they would remain our friends.

Meanwhile the butt plug periodically caused me to gasp or lose my train of thought, especially if I sat down in the middle of a sentence. My breath would quicken and sometimes I would visibly shiver with lust. There were the occasional puzzled looks from Julie and Mitch, but they must have assumed that my corset had pinched or something, because they said nothing. At these times I would glance at Sarah and she would only smile sweetly at me and wink.

The last part of the evening was deviously planned by Sarah. She told everyone that there were a few pieces of paper inside an old hat, each piece having a name of an old movie on it. However, some were blank. Steve drew a blank. Julie drew a blank. I drew a blank. Miraculously, and as planned, only Sarah pulled one out with a movie name on it.




Changes Ch. 08



"Well, what do you know? We have a choice here. We're either watching "Tootsie" or "Mrs. Doubtfire" tonight!" she said with a laugh.

The rest of the night was like a public roasting for me, a friendly one, embarrassing at times, but always friendly. I found it erotic that they all felt comfortable enough with me as Stephanie, to tease me like they did, or maybe it was that damn butt plug just keeping me on the edge that made the evening erotic and full of promise. My occasional trips to the washroom were exercises in self-restraint as I desperately wanted to touch myself and masturbate as I sat to pee. I never stood to pee any more mainly because of all the paraphernalia I wore now, the skirts, panties, girdles and pantyhose. It was far easier to sit.

At long last they left, and after a few quiet moments sipping our wine, Sarah left for the bedroom while I cleaned up in the kitchen. I hurried around, hoping desperately that she hadn't forgotten her promise and simply gone to bed, but I needn't have worried. Just as I was finishing up, she came into the dimly lit living room and I saw her from behind wearing a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra. She was blowing out a candle. I stopped what I was doing instantly and went to her like a moth to a flame; the dishes could wait.

She must have heard me coming but she didn't turn until I kissed her shoulder. She turned to face me and that's when I felt it. I recoiled and looked down at a large strap on dildo that was fastened with a black harness around her hips.

She kissed my lips and pressed the large phallus against me saying, "I'm going to fuck you in a way that you have never been fucked before baby." Her voice was soft but husky. "And the butt plug has been preparing you for this all night, hasn't it?" She reached behind me where the handle of the anal plug made a slight bulge in my girdle and she pushed it in farther as she lunged into me. "You want it now, don't you?"

I shuddered with a mix of complex feelings at that moment, lust as my prostate responded, dread as I feared being penetrated by her cock as if I were gay. I groaned and shook as she placed her lips on mine and our lipsticks merged in a greasy paradox of feelings. I pulled away, but just barely. 

"Sarah, you mean, you want to...you're gonna fuck me with that? Like I'm gay? My God, I don't know. I'm not sure...I, uh, jeez Sarah..." I felt my face flush and my skin felt like a light hot mist had been sprayed over it. My breath quickened.

She ignored me and said nothing as she led me to the bedroom. The butt plug seemed to swell within me and conspired with Sarah to force me to give in. She unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor, and while the silicone penis swung about slapping me in the crotch and my thighs, she pulled my belt and top off so that I stood there in my girdle, corset, stockings and bra.

"I'll be gentle baby. We'll take our time, with lots of lubricant. I want to fuck you this way. I've wanted to for a long time. Take your girdle off and get on your hands and knees on the bed," she said while rubbing my swollen penis which was compressed underneath the girdle. Her breath was hot on my neck. I started to breathe even more rapidly and those familiar sexual butterflies danced within me.

"Stephanie," she whispered, "You need to be fucked like this; you need to understand what it's like to be penetrated, to be fucked, and to be controlled sexually. Then you'll understand. You'll feel like you're a woman when I let you come. If I let you come. Not every woman comes when they're fucked you know." Every word was uttered in a throaty whisper and I couldn't resist. I wanted to come.

I pulled my girdle off and got into the position she requested and waited as she got on her knees behind me and started manipulating the steel plug that was already inside me. Then she leaned on my corseted back and with her other hand played with my testicles and penis. "Do you want me to fuck you Stephanie? Fuck you like a woman? You want it, don't you sweetie. And I want to fuck you too."

I resigned myself and surrendered absolutely. I was just whispering over and over, "No, please no, oh please, yes, please...oh God...no..." A confusion like waves crashing on land. Please don't. But I will... The unwinnable battle raged.

Suddenly I felt empty as she easily pulled the steel plug out and placed it on a towel she had brought to the bed. Obviously she had lubricated the strap-on dildo, because it took its place at my entrance and was pushing but only slipping about, occasionally threatening to penetrate, but not quite.

"Do you want it? Show me you want it..."

With apprehension and need I pushed back and felt the penis slip into me for the first time and I gasped as the weight of her fell on my back and she grasped my breasts from behind. Then she moved one hand from my breast to my penis which was leaking like a faucet. At the same time she started to rub it, I felt her penis go deeper inside of me. I felt so helpless and needy, dependent. This time I moaned out loud and pushed back hard. I screamed as it went in to the hilt, hitting something inside me, but I didn't know what. The rest was a blur of being taken by a woman, the complicated feeling of being penetrated, having my prostate pressured and at the same time having my penis rubbed. I remember feeling a bit guilty that I was enjoying this so much and Sarah could have no feeling because it really wasn't her penis. I was wrong about the last part.

Then she gave me her commands in a deep throaty voice, the usual commands I had come to expect and obey. "Don't come Stephie. Don't come. I'll tell you when to come. I control when you come. If you come." And indeed, she did have control, because as good as her penis felt on my prostate, I couldn't quite get there. I needed her to touch me, but her mind was somewhere else and I was helpless as she plunged in and out of me, her hands at my corseted waist pulling and pushing me, gradually building up a tempo in relation to her breathing.

Then she came and I thought I would split apart as she screamed and slammed into me over and over again. But still all I heard was her squeals and moans as I was hanging out there, so close, oh so close. The pounding ended and I felt her weight on my back again, felt her hot breath on my neck, and I thought to myself, "It's over. My God, she's not going to let me come." I felt used and I wondered if I would have to masturbate after she went to sleep.

She started to whisper into my ear as her penis began to move again. "What does it feel like to be penetrated like a woman baby? I could just pull out now and leave you, couldn't I? A lot of men do that to women you know. Do you want me to do that?"

I pleaded with her. I pleaded the exact opposite of my initial fears, "No, please don't take it out. Leave it in. Oh God, please fuck me, fuck me hard, please...please Goddess..."

She teased. "Don't beg unless I tell you to. It demeans you. You'll get what I give you." And so my voice was taken from me and I had to wait for her gifts. It was such an absolute act of control and taking.

This time she was slow and I moaned and grunted, sometimes squealing in frustration at not being allowed to beg for it. The tempo built up again until I was incoherent, and so was she as she came again, still not letting me come.

This time she said, "Okay...now. Beg now! Beg for it. I give you permission to beg for it."

I gritted my teeth with humiliation, delicious, loving degradation, and pleaded again as she touched me, "Please Goddess, may I come Goddess, please..."

She plunged as deeply as she could and rubbed me vigorously until I was spurting everywhere. I cried. I actually cried, with real tears streaming out of my eyes in response to the release of my sexual frustrations. It was then that Sarah calmed me, wiped the sweat off my forehead, the tears from my cheeks, pulling me to her while she kissed my neck, whispering soothing breathless sweet nothings. We stayed this way a long time, silent while the penis stayed inside me, hard and waiting for further instructions from Sarah. We flopped to the side and she was careful to keep it inside me while we spooned, she with her arms around my corset. We both fell asleep. We stayed that way until some unknown time in the dark of night, when Sarah finally pulled her penis out and went to the washroom to clean up. I stayed where I was until she came back; I didn't want to ruin the perfection of the bliss.

"Are you awake?" she whispered. Crickets chirped outside our window, and there were slivers of bright moonlight on the floor like white chalk of a black sidewalk.

"Yes," I said.

"Good," she cooed, "You need something. Oo, you must feel empty now."

"No, I feel really good," I grunted, misunderstanding.

"A submissive girl like you needs this." She slipped the cleaned and re-lubricated steel butt plug back inside of me with surprising ease this time and said, "There. Sleep well baby."

She rolled over and went back to sleep. So did I. I felt completely fulfilled and secure in knowing that Sarah wanted me this way, obedient to her sexually, and now out of the closet, at least with one set of friends. Our direction was set...on so many levels that my head swam with the possibilities.

Over the next few weeks, there was a revolving door of friends that came to meet me as Stephanie. Some evenings didn't go so well; we kept some friends; we lost some friends, but the friends we had now were real. And there were no more secrets. The world was now truly my oyster. And Sarah's too.

My waist decreased by another inch and I had come to crave wearing corsets, like an addiction. Even though the door was open to dressing as a man whenever I wanted to, I never once did; it just didn't seem to feel right. Occasionally I would put my old male underwear on and maybe some socks, but it never felt right again. The final physical touch, other than getting breast implants, was getting my eyebrows done, defining them in a thin arcing feminine way, with unwanted hair removed by electrolysis. So now, if I dressed like a man, everyone would think I was a female dyke trying to look male, an odd turn of events, and I just didn't want that type of attention.

My mind had been completely rewired.



Changes Ch. 09



Author's Notes:

(1) This is the final chapter of "Changes". I had thought of going into the endless experiments that this femdom relationship had tried, but instead I concentrated on the ones with the most influence on the evolution of the changing relationship;

(2) If the readers want to read some of those adventures, they will have to make comments and ask for them. In actuality however, some of my other stories are based on them, so I fear I would repeat story lines.

(3) Remember to read chapters 1 to 8 as well. Changes occur in chapters, just like in life.

*****

In early October we were sitting by the fireplace on a cold, wet, and windy day enjoying a hearty red wine. Sarah had found that my corset could be closed a little further today, so I was adjusting, as always, to the new dimensions that the corset was forcing upon me. I was erect, very aware of its presence, and slightly out of breath. I found that with every new tightening, my appetite became less and less, thus facilitating the waist training. The tighter the corset got, the less I could eat, and the more it allowed the corset to be tightened. I was dressed in Lulu Lemon tights, wrap skirt, and a stretchy tight long-sleeved top as usual, as Lulu had become "my friend", and just for fun Sarah had locked a collar around my neck and attached a leash, a simple act of domination and submission with a touch of humiliation. I could tell she was thinking privately, as there was nothing but silence outside of the crackling of the fire. I let it go as a mood thing, still enjoying her company as lovers quietly do.

Suddenly she said, "Some of our friends have asked some personal questions of me lately."

I waited for more, but there was nothing else. So I offered, "Like what?"

It seemed like that response was what she wanted or needed. Sarah said, "Well, Maddie asked if I dominated you because she saw that you appeared more submissive now, making meals and serving at the table, and things like that. I said that yes, our roles had shifted and I was in charge so to speak. She asked if I liked it, and I said yes. I mean, who doesn't love a husband that does all the housework, right? Then she asked if you liked that part of it, because she couldn't imagine her husband enjoying that."

She stopped again. I just waited this time, as I didn't know where this was going.

Sarah continued after a sip of wine, "I had always assumed you did because you got hard when we played those games, and you never offered any resistance, but I never really asked. But before I take the next steps with you, I have to ask now: do you like me dominating you? I mean, really, do you? I have to know this, because, well, just because I have to. If you don't like the way I treat you, you have to say it now, or forever hold your peace, to quote a famous phrase."

I had never wanted to discuss any of the background reasons why I enjoyed our new relationship dynamics, because to do so would be akin to defusing the fantasy. To say out loud that for example that I liked to be humiliated by wearing a French Maid's outfit would, in effect, spoil it for both the one doing the humiliating and the one being humiliated. It was the same with bondage; saying "please make me helpless so you can do what you want to me" would be a statement that would spoil the scene and act. For me, NO always meant YES, but I felt I should never admit that, like it was a cardinal rule of our little game. But...next steps? What did she mean by that? Now I had to answer.

"For me, it goes with it," I said, "I'd do anything if you told me to do it or "forced" me to do it. If you said you wanted to seal me in a block of plaster for your perverted pleasure, then I'd do it, or I should say you would "force" me to do it. Other than my cross dressing fetish, that's my over-riding fantasy, to be forced to enact my fantasies. Secretly I'd enjoy it, but if I admitted the enjoyment, then the whole thing would be spoiled wouldn't it?"

"Hmm," she said softly, "Plaster eh? I never thought of that. Anyway, so you want me to take this journey wherever I want to take it, regardless of what you want?"

"Yes," I said, without any hesitation, "My wants are yours to dictate and secondary to yours, as strange as that sounds."

"Are you sure? Really sure? Because I've been getting bizarre ideas embedded in my head from browsing online lately. I even go around hardware stores seeing items I could use for bondage." She laughed briefly and then continued, "Your femininity is a given now, what with your corseting and all the clothing, but what if I added another layer of kinkiness and, say, enclosed you completely in thick rubber or leather, in sensory deprivation even?"

"Sarah," I said, "I'd try anything once, as long as it was you doing the domination. I trust you. And even if you did something to me that you liked and I didn't, I'd still want you to do it again to me if you got off on it; it's erotic to please you."

"Really? Why?"

"Hmm, I don't know why. It could be that I simply need to be dominated by a woman, and sometimes that means doing what she wants, simply because I'm forced to do it. It's humiliating and I love it."

"You're strange."

"So are you."

"So, the rubber and leather?" she prompted again.

I simply answered, "Force me to do it."

"You're so weak," she said, smiling.

"Yes," I said, "I feel so ashamed and humiliated. It's awful." I grinned with the sarcasm.

We couldn't control ourselves any longer. Laughter was always a great mortar in our marriage. We cuddled and talked and played Scrabble well into the night. It was nonthreatening and comfortable, but as the night wore on, the conversation eventually turned to sexual innuendos, and we both knew where this was going. I waited for her to tell me what to do.

And she did. "You know those questions I asked you earlier? I was quite sure of the answers already. Sorry, but I know you too well. I knew you'd answer that way, but I needed to hear it, and I think you needed to say it. You've stepped into something big here, so the record needed to be made straight."

I turned my head toward her and tried to read that statement. "Something big?" I said, "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing much. It's just that I have some, shall we say, interesting bondage items that will change everything about our relationship. You want to be used. I want to use you," she said with a mischievous smile, "Off with everything except your corset and bra. And go put your large steel anal plug in please."

That was abrupt, I thought. I responded as abruptly. "Yes Mistress," I said. Our sexual division of labor had become well defined. She ordered. I did.

I continued to act my part. "What are you going to do to me?" I asked like a child.

"You don't need to know," she said throatily. And I didn't. Her control was palpable and it created a mild ringing in my ears and a fog in the room.

As I passed the bed to get my anal plug, I saw what looked like a type of sleeping bag on the bed, only it was made of leather. The smell of the hide filled the room. Examining it more closely, it was shaped more like a sarcophagus, thin at the feet and ankles and wide where the shoulders would be. A heavy zipper ran its length, and the front was crisscrossed with thick laces that could obviously be tightened. Beside it lay a sinister looking leather hood which laced up the back and had a mouth opening and two small nostril openings.

Now I knew what she meant. This was serious stuff. As I got on all fours and inserted the anal plug, I stared at the lather on the bed, knowing what was coming, but not knowing the extent of it, how she would treat me once I became helpless. 

Half an hour later as I lay completely immobilized in the leather bondage bag (or sleep-sack as many called it) , with my arms pinned to my side in the internal sleeves, I wondered what would be next. The feeling of the full length zippers being pulled up and squeezing my body so that it made me helpless was exquisite. I couldn't move a muscle, with perhaps the one exception being my tongue. And my head was enclosed in a leather sensory deprivation hood or helmet which blocked all sight and most sound. Sarah continued to cinch up the bag with the external laces so that I was mummified and utterly objectified, another corseting layer surrounding me, squeezing my breasts to my chest, and my whole body to infinite rigidity.

Her voice seemed directly above me as she said, "As you can see (or should I say: hear?) , I sort of assumed you would like this, so I took the liberty of buying it first, then asking later. So I'll ask now. Are you comfy? Do you like it?"

"No Mistress," I lied, "What are you going to do to me Mistress?"

"Too bad you don't like it. It would be better if you did, but not obligatory. And what I plan to do to you is my business, not yours. Is that clear?"

"Yes Mistress," I said. The world of the normal senses was sliding away from me, and I was helpless on that slippery slope.

"Good. Now I'm going to dig your penis out and have some fun with it for a while. You're not permitted to come."

"Yes Mistress," I said in a daze of erotic bliss. 

She played all right. Oh, she played. She played with me endlessly until I moaned and squeezed my sphincter onto the anal plug with involuntary contractions. I pleaded with her and she laughed, only driving her to more teasing and torture. I was stranded in helpless never-land, the land of neediness and want. She had the power. I couldn't see her, but I pictured her and felt her hand and mouth on me in my darkness. I loved it. I hated it. But I loved it more. But really none of that mattered, because I was going to get whatever she decided I was to get, nothing more, nothing less. I felt like a mind with no body floating in sexual ecstasy, and I descended into a trance of sub-space. I think I cried, because I was wet around my eyes under the leather hood that had been laced tightly onto my face, but I'm not sure. I wasn't sure of anything.

Occasionally she would stop caressing me. At least I think she did. I dwelled in a world of sexual confusion, like I was drifting toward a type of insanity. The world buzzed and tingled and vibrated. Then she mounted me. I was sure. I think I was sure. At least my penis was surrounded and engulfed by warmth and moistness and pressure, such delicious pressure. And then the friction. Fingers in my mouth. I sucked. Hand over my mouth. I gasped for breath while she rode me. I think I continued to cry as I fought in vain for breath. I trusted her. I waited for her to say it was ok. I waited for her to let me breathe.

While I attempted to breathe, Sarah leaned down over me and said, "You can come now, baby. Now. Now. Now..." She lifted her hand off my mouth and the cool air came rushing in as I thrust up and into her, screaming in a high pitched and unrecognizable wail, not a Steve sound, but definitely a transformed Stephanie squeal and wail. My corset and the extra corseting effect of the sleep sack didn't allow me to get my breath back right away, so I had to hyperventilate quickly. My head tingled on the edge of consciousness as my orgasm overwhelmed me. There was nothing ordinary about this; it was a supernatural event. Calendars would surely begin and end on such events as this. It was mind altering and life changing that Sarah held my life in her hands, choosing to let me breathe or not, and instead of being angry at her, I loved her more. She had demonstrated her power over me, and I had accepted it as necessary.

I think I started repeating an easy to remember mantra that went something like this, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..." I suddenly wanted to be free of this bondage to writhe about at will, but that was not to be; I remained immobilized. My head lolled about helplessly until two hands forced my face upright and Sarah lowered herself onto my mouth, the only part of me besides my penis that was exposed to the air. I was forced to drink my own fluids and clean her until I felt her bucking and twisting on my face, felt her taking my breath away again until I tried to yell out. I had no time, no air, nothing left.

She pulled away with a sucking and popping sound like a suction cup on a granite counter top. I was incoherent, making weak murmuring sounds. Through the fog of after-sex I heard Sarah's mouth at my shrouded ear, "That was great. Good night sweetie. Sweet dreams my love. Last orgasm for quite some time."

What did she mean by that? I couldn't communicate. I was still crying, I think. I had transcended something; I don't know what, but I was in another higher plane of being, a place I had never been, and maybe a stair-step away from heaven. I wondered vaguely how many stairs there might be in this journey, and where heaven might be. 

Maybe I didn't get my breath back. Maybe I had died and was there. I felt the bed move as Sarah made herself comfortable on the cloud beside me, perhaps her hand resting on my breast. I wasn't sure, but I knew she was there and she would love me again. Then nothing. Nothing but the exquisite tightness of my corset and sleep sack, and the abject helplessness it delivered.

I don't know if I slept. Sensory deprivation is a strange animal, and all the points of reference for consciousness are removed or at least warped, and in this case I had no means to change the setting; the bondage was so absolute. In my lucid moments I wondered how Sarah knew this fantasy of mine, to be put in such bondage, allowed to have an orgasm, and then to be left in the same bondage even though I had been sexually spent. Each time during the night that I woke up (or became aware) , I would panic with the inability to move and see or hear, and then the reality of my fantasy would return, building up again as the night wore on. It was like she had put a toy away for the night in a drawer. I would be available in the morning to be used by her at will.

That was the last straw for me I think. I cracked and I have never been the same. I never want to be the same. It was like a mind-altering drug. I saw into myself with such a clarity of vision. I was a man who wanted to wear women's clothes and wanted to be dominated by another woman. If I was forced to do these things, it took away the guilt of doing it. I was free within my slavery to my fetishes and to Sarah. Life became simple and uncomplicated, and it was like my body and mind smiled that night, and I haven't stopped smiling since.

But it wasn't over.

In the morning Sarah did the strangest thing. She kept me secured in the sleep-sack and washed my penis and balls gently and carefully. I was hard with a morning woody, so she asked me if I needed to pee.

"I'd rather do something else," I said with a laugh.

"I want you to pee," she said, "I'll hold this jar so you can."

I remember feeling very awkward about this, but as I couldn't see anything through the leather hood, the feeling subsided until I eventually emptied myself. She washed me again. There was no movement for a while and I waited, as I had no other choice.  

Then I screamed.

The ice bag came out of the blue and my whole body convulsed in its bondage, but my penis and balls took the brunt of it. They responded predictably, like a dip in the North Atlantic.

"What was that for?" I yelled.

Sarah didn't answer. I only felt my testicles being manipulated in some way, as if they were being pushed or pulled through something, something smooth and hard. Then I felt a constriction behind my balls like a ring had been attached. My penis was next as she pinched, pushed, and pulled it through the ring, so that now the ring was behind my entire package.

I squealed again as the ice was dispatched once more. It was strange trying to figure out what was happening down there at the time, but I know now. Sarah inverted the toe of one of my nylons over my penis head and then I felt it being pulled into something equally as smooth and hard as the ring. A few odd touches here and there and she started to let me out of the sleep sack.

"What did you do?" I asked. There was something heavy at my crotch, and my penis felt like it was enclosed in something.

"You'll see," she said soothingly, "You'll see."

Finally released from the sleep sack and the hood, I looked down with shock at the weighty object between my legs. It was a shiny stainless steel device, solid for most of the tube concealing my penis, except for the end which resembled a birdcage, with bars, and a hole to pee through. I stood up and it swung heavily there, sluggish, like a pendulum.

"Jesus Sarah! What is this?"

"It's a Lori 2 chastity cage. It fits you perfectly I see. Let me explain the details. First of all, as you can see, you're tight within it when you're soft, and there are two blunt, but effective, spikes at the bottom opening of the tube and at the top of the ring. Trying to pull your penis out would be painful. The cage is locked to the ring with a special screw here. If you look at it closely, you'll see the screw head is like a hex shape, but it's raised in the middle so a normal hex wrench key won't work, and the only place you can get a key for it is from the people that made the device. I have the only key right now. You don't get one."

I looked at her as if she were mad and started to experiment with it, pulling and twisting. It could not be removed, and then I tried to pry my penis out with my fingers. The spikes dug in threateningly and I stopped. I looked at Sarah and said, "You mean I can't get this off?"

"No."

"Why?" I asked, "Do I get to have sex?" This was getting alarming.

"When I say so," she said nonchalantly, "Not like in the past where you went off and masturbated when I didn't let you come. You're completely dependent on me for orgasm now. Completely." And she pinched me playfully on the cheek.

This was crazy, I thought, but at the same time I got that familiar rush of eroticism as I started to get hard. That created a vicious circle of arousal, inability to get erect, and back again. My penis filled with blood and filled the cage so that the head pushed against the bars, flesh bulging and purple with desire. But that was as far as I could go. I shook it with frustration, and then let it fall, even the weight of it defeating the attempt at erection.

I looked at her with my mouth open as I realized what had just happened. I could no longer play her games and then sneak away and masturbate. My mind was racing and then I had a thought. "Well, this is kind of silly really, because if you unlock me to have sex, then I simply won't put it back on."

"Oh yes you will. I've thought through that. Here's the other part of your "gift"." She waved a solid stainless steel ring with a diameter of roughly half an inch. Attached to it were two handcuffs, one on each side. "Come here," she said,

I walked slowly toward her as she opened the ring at its hinge and placed it around my neck. It "clinked" into position, locked securely, and the cuffs hung from it like ear rings. "Let me guess...a special lock?" I said apprehensively.

She just winked and said, "From now on, when I choose to let you come, this gets locked around your neck first. Then I unlock your chastity cage. If you don't put your cage back on after sex, those rather embarrassing cuffs dangle from your collar until you do. Oh, by the way, it's called a slave collar and the word "SLAVE" is chiseled right into it all around its circumference. That would be embarrassing out in public wouldn't it?"

"What about when I go to the doctor?" I said, looking for loopholes.

"What about it?" she said, smiling with triumph.

No give there. "Flying?" I asked hopefully.

"For that you are freed from the cage, but it'll be easy to get you back into it. You're such a slut for bondage."




Changes Ch. 09



I didn't answer, but I didn't need to. She was right.

"Oh," she said, "I almost forgot. I bought you a few items of clothing that you'll need now that you're locked up. Here are a few surgical compression girdles that have an open crotch so your package won't get jammed up too much. They're for post-op surgical procedure recovery, but they're perfect for you now. And I bought you some Lulu Lemon tights with matching wrap skirts so the skirt can hide your bigger bulge now. You need those anyway. After all, what woman is going to go around always dressed to the nines like you? And if we go to a formal event where you'd look best in a tight pencil skirt or something, I'll unlock you for that. So, there you have it. We're there sweetie. We're there."

"We're where?" I asked.

"You like to be forced to do things, especially with regard to sex, correct?" she asked with a tinge of delight.

I hated answering that question truthfully, but I did this time. "Yes, I guess so," I said.

"You don't guess. You know. Anyway, I have control now, absolute control. You can't have an orgasm unless I permit it. No more masturbation on the sly. You think I didn't know about that? That's like cheating on me. That's the way I feel about that."

"Wait," I said, "You'd take this that far?"

"I just did."

"I really can't get this chastity cage off, can I? And this is what you want?"

"More than anything." 

"I guess that's it then, isn't it? I asked for it, didn't I?" I said, dubiously.

Sarah laughed and said, "You sure did. You should be careful what you wish for and what you consent to."

I smiled and shook my head from side to side. Check and mate. "How often will you release me?" I asked with apprehension.

"The only lock up interval I'm sure of is the first one. The rest depend on your attitude and how my orgasms are."

"And the first one is?"

"Twenty-one days. More, much more, if you whine and beg."

"Twenty-one days? No way! Jesus Sarah, that's stupid. I'll go crazy!"

"Are you whining?" she asked cleverly.

I stared at her, looking for the slightest weakness. Our eyes locked in mutual understanding. "No," I said. I wasn't about to call that bluff. In my mind I was already wondering where the electric drill was.

"Good. Now get your corset off and shower so I can lace you back up again. I'd like some breakfast as soon as you get your makeup on and get dressed. Why don't you try the Lulu Lemon outfit today?"

I was so aroused I could hardly stand it. I wanted to whine; I wanted to beg. But I couldn't have her, and I couldn't masturbate either. It was the most complex mix of absolute lust, and absolute denial at the same time. This was bondage, the ultimate in bondage. 

And in the same way that the cage closed on my penis, the symbolic lock on my life had been secured beyond any doubt. There wasn't a facet of my life that was outside Sarah's control now. Critics will say that I should have left her, that I should have hit her and forced her to give me the key, and all that stuff. Yes, I could have done any of that, but why would I do that when I loved her and she loved me? We were each crazy in our own complementary way, and we needed each other. We fit together like a hand in a glove.

And yes, I could have drilled out the screw lock of the chastity cage; I could have said no to a lot of things, but that would have ruined the entire mutual fantasy relationship that we had developed over the past many months. I said no to nothing and have not regretted anything that Sarah threw at me. Even the stuff I didn't like, I loved...such is the paradox of masochism. I don't like getting punished for real or imagined transgressions. Welts on my skin are not pleasant, but nonetheless, I understand that if Sarah wants to do it, and if there is no long-term physical damage, then there is a sexual component for me as I soar into sub-space to please Sarah. We talked about that at length, as we talked about many things, and decided that punishment should remain a component of the femdom relationship. It was, and is, a complex and delicate balance.

As an aside to the image of drilling out the screw lock, a few months later, in my eagerness to get release one night when Sarah gave me the key, I stripped the head of the locking screw, and actually had to drill it out. It took me three drill bits, two trips to the hardware store for replacements for broken bits, and two days to do it. The heat from drilling got intense at times. Sarah found it quite funny, and I must admit, it added to the bondage fun of it. It is one serious piece of chastity cage. I have tried on occasion to escape the cage, but as yet have not found a way. 

Perhaps I don't want to.

By this time, the changes within our marriage, the role reversals, exchange of power, all that stuff, had already taken place. My dependence on Sarah for the simple act of orgasm was the final piece in the developmental puzzle. There was no going back.

And it all started by getting caught that fateful day dressed up in women's clothes. I can't imagine what would have happened to us if that scene had not taken place. I guess we would have gone on, each of us full of secrets and latent desires, and ended life in old age saying, "Mmm, that was orderly and good," never knowing what could have been. Just like so many do.

But here I am as I write this five years later, emotionally a woman, my waist corseted down to twenty-four inches (from twenty-nine) , my bra gently holding my 36C breasts (yes, I now have implants) , my girdle firming up my buttocks and smoothing the artificial padding, my nylons attached to the garters, all enclosed in skin-tight Lulu Lemon tights and a top, and I feel more than good; I feel charged, electrified with life. I said above that I am emotionally a woman, and the accessories such as the corset, padding, the breast implants, and makeup have made me look like a woman as well. Do I identify as a woman? Yes, I guess so, but it's way more complex than that. I don't want to be fucked by a man, nor do I want to fuck one. So I guess I identify as a lesbian.

Does Sarah identify me as a woman? I think so, but again, it's far more complex than that; she loves the fact that I have breasts now and that we go out together as women, but she wants my penis. Sometimes. So, is she a lesbian? I don't know. Should I care? No.

Sarah will be home soon from work and I've cooked her favorite meal. Every day I wait for her, I itch for her at the door like an obedient and loving puppy. She understands me. We'll drink some wine, play some Scrabble, laugh and talk, go to bed and make love. Maybe she'll release me tonight for orgasm, maybe not, but the point is that we will be making LOVE, not doing some act that is secretive and lonely, full of unshared fantasies and lost opportunities.

And when we get to the end of our lives, we'll say, "We dared to try. Now wasn't that freaking awesome?"

EPILOGUE

The debate continues whether or not I should take hormones, but we lean toward the status quo on that issue for now.

I have never returned to work. I take care of the household now and I am happy to be the housewife.

The Lori 2b chastity device is real. I have worn it for many years now without major issues. Mistress Lori from Oregon has a website (just google Mistress Lori) displaying a dizzying array of very serious chastity devices, all made from surgical stainless steel. The most severe are the ones that require the wearer to have a penis piercing, and the penis is thus anchored within the tube by the pin through the piercing. The screw locks are the same as mine, and they really are foolproof without an electric drill.