17 June 2010

A Walk in the Park

Visiting Aunt Val to see her new sissy, Geraldine, Gerry for short, and
take her to the Nancyville Sissy Park for the afternoon. Aunt Val
retired and donated Georgie her old sissy to Public Service. It was a
wonderful warm and sunny day for a visit to the Park. On the way to
Auntie's sissies and their owners were out promenading and shopping all
along the way. No vehicles are allowed in this section of Nancyville
except for the little electric trolley with several open cars in tow.
There was quite a bustle in the warm weather. The sissies for the most
part wore either miniskirts or hot pants with alter tops, or tubetops,
some had sports bras, and a few wore open blouses tied at the waist.
Several wore no tops. One caught my eye because of his pert puffy
breasts. Obviously his owner was showing him off. As always there were
sissies with no clothes at all except for sandals. They were usually
being punished and forced to parade around naked in the shopping area.
They almost always had reddened bottoms and walked with their heads down
in shame.

I walked up the steps to Auntie's townhouse and rang the bell. The door
opened and Auntie was standing, super fashionably dressed as always with
her arms out wanting a hug. She pulled me into her large bosom, grabbed
my behind and gave me a wet kiss before forcing her tongue into my
mouth. She knew this turned me on and there would be no time to proceed
to the intended conclusion of such an introduction. She was a big tease.
Letting me go she thanked me profusely for taking Gerry off her hands
for the afternoon. Since he was new she did not want to leave him in
Sissy Day Care yet and thought it too cruel to keep him caged up for the
day.

I heard the door close, turned and saw Aunties new perfect Sissy. He was
terribly cute, thin and so young looking in his plaid, pleated
miniskirt with a tailored open silk blouse. Just three buttons cinched
it above the navel. He was so delicate, his boy breasts and stomach so
softly defined. Strong musculature is frowned upon in a sissy. He was
wearing knee socks and saddle shoes. He had diamond stud earrings and a
diamond choke that made his alabaster skin look translucent. I could not
detect even a hint of makeup. His pale blue eyes and short blond pixie
style hair made the perfect schoolgirl.

Aunt Val told him to show me his panties and he lifted his dress to show
me his pearly white silk panties with Souvenir of Nancyville Sissy Park
embroidered on them. She said she still had them from the first time
she had brought Georgie there. I could see Gerry's little package
testing the stretch of the panties. I would soon be seeing everything as
sissies were allowed no clothing in the Park. She then lamented on how
she had to let Gerorgie go but though he was a good worker he had lost
his enthusiasm for his duties and he was starting to get saggy. Public
Service always needed good workers she said cheerily, gazing at her new
acquisition.

With a goodbye kiss to Auntie Val and admonishment from her that Gerry
had not yet been broken-in, I took Gerry's hand and we walked out into
the sunshine. We strolled casually towards Sissy Park and as we got
closer the street was becoming more crowded. The sissies got louder and
more exuberant as we approached the gates. In the Park they would be as
free as they would ever be in Nancyville. Along the other side of the
street many nude sissies with chastity devices and plugged were
hurriedly being escorted to Sissy Day Care adjacent to the Park. Their
owners needed to get to work or run errands without a sissy in tow or
had trysts with lovers where sissies were of no use. I produced Gerry's
pass and we were separated. He would have to check his clothes and since
this was his first time visiting the park be inspected and oriented to
the rules. I waited in anticipation of her exit from the building.

Gerry appeared even more delicious than I imagined, her hipbones
slightly apparent accentuating the softness of her belly descending to
her genitals. I was delighted that he was circumcised and though flaccid
he was larger than expected, larger than Georgie had been. This excited
me. His diamond earrings and choke had been removed and he was wearing a
pink plastic collar with "Gerry" stamped on it. This was a practical
matter as sissies in the Park especially on a day like this would be
getting wet. His face was slightly blushed; I am sure from what he had
been told in orientation. I took his hand and we started out.

Almost immediately a fine looking woman in a white lab coat and only a
short lab coat and spiked heels approached us. She noticed Gerry was new
and offered a free prostate exam. I willingly volunteered him mostly to
see his reaction. She took his hand and led him into a cordoned off
area, in full view of the public. She had him stand before a small
wooden table about 2' high and with her arm gently bent him forward
until his head rested on the table. She nudged his legs apart with her
foot and a service worker came up with a tray. She took a glove and
snapped it on her hand and dipped it into a jar of lubricant. She then
slowly worked the sissy's rosebud before burying her finger to the max.

I saw Gerry grimace. She told another worker with a clipboard that the
prostate was small and smooth, healthy. Without removing her finger she
asked me if she could take a sissy cream sample for her data research
and without hesitation I said of course. Still with her finger up the
sissy's bum, she helped him up onto the bench. He was now on all fours
and turning red in the face. The worker with the tray stepped forward
and she dipped her ungloved hand into the lubricant and began smearing
Gerry's sack with it. An excited crowd was forming to view the
procedure.

She slowly moved her hand up and down the boy's scrotum slowly and
rhythmically. She whispered something into his ear and Gerry started
moving back and forth onto her finger. She smiled and no longer moved
her hand but let the boy fuck her closed fist. I saw his fast shallow
breathing and his shoulders and breasts were turning red. He moved
faster and faster. Another worker was holding a small wide mouthed
beaker to the end of Gerry's penis and then -Spurt. The sissy came,
spurt after spurt filling the beaker. A sigh permeated the crowd and
applause broke out from the ladies and giggles from the sissies. The
Doctor finally pulled her finger out from his behind, held up the beaker
and remarked about the incredible volume, praising Gerry. A worker
cleaned the sissy and the Doctor helped him off the bench and gave him a
peck on the cheek. She told me I was fortunate to have such a fine
sissy.

We stopped at the refreshment stand to replenish Gerry's energy. Only
water, fat free skimmed milk and some low sugar fruit juices in plastic
sippy cups are available for sissies. No alcohol is allowed to sissies
in public. I had a large variety of beers, wines, liqueurs and mixed
drinks to choose from. I ordered a beer and a skimmed milk. The drinks
were served by a public service sissy, a sippy cup of milk and one rice
wafer and a stein of beer and Spanish nuts for me. The Nancyville
Authority is very strict on sissy diets and exercise. In public settings
sissys are allowed no meat, starches or sugars. Only Salads A, B, and C
are served in any restaurant to sissies. A is a lettuce based vegetable
salad, B is a fruit salad and C is a warm vegetable salad. No desserts.

In Sissy Day Care very restrictive meals are served to protect sissies
from gaining weight. Sissies are strenuously exercised in aerobic and
flexibility routines as stamina and flexibility are prized traits due to
the sexual nature of demands required of them. Weight training and
resistance training are strictly prohibited to sissies though their
owners regularly work out with this type of equipment. Sissy owners tend
to be quite strong and their sissies though fit are quite weak. Upon
entering Public Service all sissies are castrated so they need less
supervision. Privately owned sissies must be attended always by their
owner or surrogate owner (as I am with Gerry) and private owner may only
have two sissies or hire women to supervise more. One woman may only
supervise two sissies at most.

In the Public realm teams of castrated sissies are supervised by a woman
and an electronically collared worker may work on his own but is
remotely supervised. In the park there are many collared workers under
video surveillance. Subgroups of males are strength trained to do hard
physical labor such as delivery and construction work. They live in
barracks or in wards on the work site as in the Park. It is a
considerable expense to own a sissy. There are licensing fees, and
inspection fees and the laws protecting sissies from abuse such as being
left unattended in homes, caging is allowed for up to four hours.

Many women strive to own a sissy. That is why Day Care is so popular as
the sissy is fed and exercised to meet semiannual check ups. Sissies
give great pleasure to these women. They are trained to be excellent
cooks, to do housework and can lap pussy hours on end. They provide
entertainment in small settings. All sorts of perverse pleasure is
derived by controlling them and commanding them to do the most sordid
things to each other. Today I am having the pleasure of a fine sissy
under my command and it thrills me. I can hardly wait to get Gerry in
private. Aunt Val allows the benefit of certain sexual pleasures from
her sissy to me in her presence such as oral sex on my pussy and tits
but Val herself is even more gratifying than Gerry would be except for
extended sessions of carpet munching. More later about Nancyville
culture and history. Now I hear the siren song of the Sissy Carousel
calling.

I want Gerry to experience this carnival ride. Sissies are lined up for
the ride. The Carousel has 12 animal figures. Beautiful carved topless
females form the center with calliope music emanating, are calling the
sissies to ride the animals of the sea world. Arched Orcas, Dolphins,
Seahorses, Narwhales and other creatures make up the carousel from the
top of the creatures a saddle with a peg form the seat and there are
stirrups on the side for mounting the large enameled figurines. Gerry is
mounting a dolphin. I can see he is pretending to be seated from the
strain in his thighs and calves. He is really straining to keep from
seating himself on the peg, but as the Carousel starts to move the
stirrups drop and the sissy is now impaled firmly on the peg with no
traction to move up.

I saw his expression of surprise when the stirrups dropped. Some sissies
squealed as the Carousel turned faster and faster, the creatures moving
up and down. Gerry's eyes started to glaze over; I heard tell the pegs
vibrated. All the sissies were hard, several sissies shot their loads.
Gerry was fully extended but was trying desperately to maintain control
as he had been trained. The ride slowed and stopped. Gerry dismounted
still hard. As the sissies filed off the Carousel a team of service
workers hosed down and scrubbed it. The pegs were wiped to sterilize
them for the next group. The sissies went through a sort of car wash.
First they were soaped, then rinsed and then blow dried.

As they exited they were bent over a bench and inspected and smear of
lubricant was applied to their rosebuds with a gun. The stainless steel
nozzle sterilized after each application. Gerry was hyperventilating to
keep control when I took his hand and had him sit on a pegged bench. I
sat next to him. He seemed very distracted. I placed my hand on his
upper thigh letting my little finger caress his sack. That was too much.
He spurted half way into the path. Fortunately no women were walking by.

A service worker came forward with a bucket and cleaned the path and
then approached Gerry to clean him off. I heard the worker thank Gerry
for the spectacle, I recognized Georgie's voice. I looked to see how he
had changed. Obviously a piece of him was missing. But he had a crew cut
and had gained some weight probably from the hormones and drugs used to
make the workers docile and compliant. He recognized me and asked if
Gerry was my sissy. I told him yes not wanting to tell him Gerry was his
replacement. He said she was quite pretty and if it had been the old
days he would have fucked her silly. This was an insolent remark but
with all that happened to Georgie I let it pass.

He was spending too much time with us and a tall woman supervisor in a
blue uniform wanted to know what was going on. I told her I knew Georgie
before and we were talking. She rebuked #32 as she called him and told
me he was working and that his visiting hour was the first Sunday of the
month from 8PM to 9PM. Georgie said I am sure I'll see you mockingly.
The supervisor immediately tasered him and told him to report to closest
discipline station. Gerry was shocked to see all of this and tears
formed in her eyes. The supervisor then chastised me for fraternizing
with public servants and gave me a warning. Punishment for someone like
myself if found guilty would be to sexually service female supervisors
for an evening, an obvious incentive to find fault. I told her I was
sorry and it would not happen again, thinking how bitter her snatch
would taste.

I dried Gerry's tears and told him not to worry. We set out on our next
adventure. A dildo race was about to start. This was a contest inspired
by a late 20th century cartoonist named Kami Tora. There were ten long
benches with increasingly longer and wider dildoes spaced about 18
inches apart up the length of the bench, 12 in all. The contestants were
required to seat themselves on each one before proceeding to the next.
There were judges to make sure the sissies were completely seated before
moving on. A disqualification was worse than losing. A disqualified
contestant was bent over in a stock and all the other contestants fucked
him in order of their finish in the race.

The winner could choose any contestant after third place to fuck. The
third place finisher received a blowjob simultaneously from the winner's
choice. Second place finisher could choose any of the other losers for a
blow job. All the acts were publicly displayed. This was no contest for
Gerry to enter but I think we both enjoyed watching when the start horn
sounded and the contestants waddled up the benches and squatting over
each dildo. They moved really fast at first but then as the dildoes got
larger the race slowed. It practically stopped before the last two
enormous dildoes as the contestants hesitated before moving on. They had
no choice.

The audience groaned along with the contestants as they sat on the last
two dildoes. After the first three contestants finished the race was
called to the relief of the rest and to keep their bumholes a little
tighter for the winner. The losers moved over to a showing bench and got
on all fours for display and to be chosen as prizes for the finishers.
It was quite exciting to see. Many owners were letting their sissies
play with each other in the audience during the race. I think Gerry was
as distracted by viewing them as much as by the race. There was spurting
everywhere and service workers were all over cleaning up. Gerry had his
six inches standing straight out again. I pretended I didn't notice as
we moved on.

We stopped at another refreshment stand. It was warm out. I ordered
another beer and a juice for Gerry. Two women sitting near us were
holding hands and rubbing their knees together under the table. Their
sissies were standing drinking from their sissy cups both with hard-ons
from watching their mistresses. The women stopped and looked a little
embarrassed. They called over a woman supervisor and asked if their
sissies could be escorted to sissy Day Care. We overheard the women had
just met and wanted to retire to one of their flats without their
sissies. They pulled out chastity devices and butt plugs from their
purses, slapped their sissies' penises repeatedly until they softened
and locked them up. The sissies bent over and were plugged.

The matron attached leads to their collars and led them off. I told
Gerry that the women displayed selfish behavior because when you bring a
sissy to the park it should be his day. They should have at least let
the sissies wank each other off to get soft but of course women rule. I
was getting Gerry on my good side. Not that I needed to but I preferred
a willing sissy unlike Aunt Val who enjoyed confronting a rebellious
nature. I wasn't sure why she had acquired Gerry who unlike Georgie was
always testing authority and paying the consequences. Gerry seemed so
eager to please and obviously well trained. At the Park release was
allowed anywhere, anytime but he was still sporting his full erection
and I am sure was ready to spurt with the slightest extra stimulus. I
enjoyed seeing him holding back. I was sure he couldn't hold out much
longer. I was going to take him to Copulation Station next. Knowing he
didn't have his Breaking-In Ceremony yet I could not enter him but we
could watch. If he didn't blow his wad there, I would take him to
Masturbation Station and enter him. I doubt if he would make it to the
podium before giving up his sissy cream.

At Copulation Station sissies entered a large holding pen and were
herded into one of two tunnels where they filed in a single line. They
could not see anything but a light at the end. The lines were formed
randomly and they had no idea who they would be paired with. One sissy
from the right and left ascended the podium. A scantily clad female
referee tossed two coins if both came up heads the sissy to the right
would be the fuckee, if both came up tails the sissy to the left would
assume the position. If the coins were mixed, the referee would toss
again. On the podium there was a raised bed platform. The fuckee could
assume one of three positions, on all fours, on his back with his legs
spread and pulled back or in a fetal position.

The sissies had already been greased for either role in the tunnel and
in anticipation were almost always fully erect and ready by the time
they hit the stage. Rutting was almost immediate. The fucker was
required to withdraw and spurt on the fuckee and then lick him clean. It
was great fun to watch. I was holding Gerry's hand and it was hot and
sweaty. After watching several bouts, we moved on. He was taking short
deep breaths again. I knew he was ready to spurt when I entered him at
Masturbation Station. I saw him disappear in the tunnel and appear
several minutes later on stage with a tall dark skinned sissy with small
breast implants.

She was very exotic with sloe colored almond shaped eyes and large lips.
They both had six inch erections though the other girlyboy was thicker.
They were guided to center stage each by a young girl and were directed
to kiss and lick each others necks. They were pushed together and the
more experienced dark sissy did what came naturally and started rubbing
cock to cock. Both came simultaneously. She dropped to her knees and
licked Gerry clean. Gerry's hands were on her shoulders steadying
himself from fainting. The girl got up and gently guided Gerry to his
knees where he cleaned the Dark princess expertly. She turned to leave
the stage but Gerry held her back at the thighs and buried his head
between the girl's cheeks.

The audience gasped at the improvisation. The usherettes didn't quite
know what to do. The tall sissy didn't move forward, in fact she backed
up onto Gerry's tongue and performed a little wiggle. A Supervisor
appeared and pulled the sissies apart and they were led off stage to the
applause of the audience. When I met Gerry at the exit after his
cleaning I noticed his bottom was reddened and he told me the Supervisor
took him over her knee and spanked him. He told me she said she enjoyed
the show as much as anyone but she had to maintain rules in case there
was a complaint of independent sissy behavior. It was a mild spanking
and afterwards she kissed him. Gerry seemed proud. It was all quite
amusing. I really needed to find out more about this sissy of Auntie
Val. I was developing a great and inappropriate affection for him.

He was quite calm now after this third spurt of the day. I asked him
about his past. I knew Aunt Val had purchased him from a broker from the
outlands. He told me where he grew up men and women were equal in rights
and he was raised as a normal boy until age 12. He had only recently
discovered girls and masturbation. One day while walking home from
school, he was abducted and brought to a remote farm. He saw the men
being paid by an elderly woman with long silver-white hair dressed as a
man. He was stripped and quarantined in a small cage for several weeks.
He had lost track of time. He was collared; allowed out daily for
feeding from a bowl on the floor, exercised by being tethered to a
treadmill, bathed by one of two women dressed as nurses with their
garters showing from short dresses.

They were both well endowed and their breasts were straining to burst
out of their tight uniforms. He was taught to use a chamber pot and
squat like a girl in their presence. He was masturbated five times a day
sometimes while still in his cage. In the evening he was layed out on a
table and the nurses would open their blouses and let him suckle while
they wanked him. Otherwise he was completely isolated. He became
addicted to their company. They told him resistance was futile and that
if he obeyed and respected his superiors he would be well taken care of
otherwise he would be severely punished. He told me, he saw no reason to
resist yet. One day he was bathed and oiled in and out and seated at a
mirror. He hadn't seen himself in some time. His blond hair had grown
longer.

His hair was cut coiffed like the Dutch Boy ads he had seen. His skin
seemed lighter and so smooth. He thought he looked like a girl. A new
young girl only slightly older than him came into the room. She wore a
plain black short sleeve oriental dress with slits up the sides exposing
her thighs. She wore red brocaded satin slippers. Her face was made up
like an oriental porcelain doll with defined rouged circles on her
cheeks and a blood red heart shaped lips. She applied coloring to his
lips, eyes and cheeks, had him stand and reddened his breasts and
backside. His nails were clear lacquered and his leather collar was
removed and replaced with a satin choke with a bow on one side. He got
excited looking at himself being transformed.

The girl told him that was a good sign but he had to learn to control
himself and that he was never to touch himself-ever. She had him get on
all fours and wanked him into the chamber pot. She had him put on a
short silk dressing gown. He was then escorted through a long hall with
life size photographs of nude boys that looked very much like him. His
escort opened a door into a darkly lit room with an oriental carpets and
bronze sculptures of nude pubescent boys and girls in all sorts of
poses, paintings of orgies and all sorts of erotic art. He looked all
around trying to take all it in. He saw the two nurses, their white
uniforms glowing in the darkened room. He heard a voice, "Gerald, come
here sweetheart."

He followed the voice and saw between the nurses an old woman, as old as
his grandmother seated in a red leather upholstered chair. She was
wearing an open dressing gown like his and her saggy breasts were
exposed. She had her legs crossed sitting to one side. She had small
young girl's feet. She had long silver and white hair done up most
exquisitely. He stood in front of her. Gerry told me he was so scared
at this point he had a shriveled up penis .Gerry continued his story.
The old woman smiled at him and told him she had an eye on him since he
was eight and would be a perfect candidate for her training school. She
said he was such a lovely boy.

She opened his gown and sighed. She told him to turn around and he felt
her hand caressing his buttocks. He heard her say - Yes. Her hands
guided him around. She brought her hands down to his penis and caressed
it. It swelled immediately. She turned to the two nurses nodding
approvingly and told the young escort to bring him to her bedchamber. He
was escorted down a long hall and then up a set of narrow stairs. He
learned later these were the backstairs for the servants use. Again
oriental carpets on wooden floors dimly lit with sconces on the walls,
on the right was an ornate door with three carved naked women dancing in
a circle.

The young girl opened the door and he followed her in. A huge bed was
situated in the middle of the room with four carved posts and a canopy,
gauze curtains fell to the floor. On one side were two small steps and
an opening in the curtains. The young girl led him to the steps and took
his gown off and told him to lie on the bed on his back and wait for
Mistress Sabine. The ceiling of the canopy was mirrored but the lighting
was too dim to see more than his form. He heard some noise and the old
lady's voice telling Candy, the young girl to remove her clothes and
join them as she might need assistance with the virgin boy. By this time
his pole was sticking straight up. He saw Candy assisting the old woman
up the steps onto the bed.

Candy seemed flatchested for a girl. The woman guided her breast to his
mouth. He suckled hard at her nipple. It felt different from the full
breasted nurses but still very pleasant. She told Candy to handle his
first spurt, and he felt a warm wetness engulf his member. He could not
believe his masturbatory dreams had come true and he was actually
fucking a girl. Then he felt a tongue swirling around his cock and teeth
gently nibbling. He realized he was getting a blow job not a fuck. He
felt a finger around his anus. In it went.

Het told met he shot his load immediately. He heard the Mistress
whisper, "Fast and quick like a jackrabbit, but you will learn." Candy
was licking him clean and the Mistress told her to kiss him. He opened
my eyes to see her beautiful wet lips approaching with his mouth
slightly open, she plunged her tongue deep inside. He tasted slimy sperm
and began to choke. She sucked his tongue back into her mouth and she
pulled him over on top of her when he felt a boner and realized he was
soft. He pulled back. "You're a boy." Yes, the Mistress said but more
than just a boy. She told him not to resist and to think how much
pleasure he had just received. She said Candy would take him to where
his wet dreams took him. She told him to kiss Candy's cock. "But I am a
boy," he persisted. "Yes, but you can become so much more than a lovely
boy if you let yourself." She prodded his head to Candy's cockstand,
with tears in his eyes he sucked on his first cock. Mistress Sabine
urged him on, telling him how much pleasure he was giving Candy and that
Candy was experiencing wave after wave of near-orgasm, that women could
experience orgasm after orgasm but the nearest men could achieve was
near orgasm until they spent. She was telling him as Candy arched and
pulled back that Candy was trained not to spurt until ordered to do so
and that he would be trained likewise.

She told him to get ready to swallow as much as he could and told Candy
she could let go. He tried hard to swallow as mush as he could but he
gagged as he swallowed and drooled. Mistress Sabine congratulated him
and said he did well for his first time. He was still crying from mixed
emotions of shame and accomplishment. She told him to lick Candy clean
and that he must always clean up after himself. On all fours he was
licking Candy's belly and the Mistress moved over her face and lowered
herself onto Candy's mouth and rocked back and forth with a low chant of
moaning. She took his hands to her breasts and then she pulled him up
and kissed him with her tongue plunging deep to the back of his throat.
To his disbelief he was getting hard again with this ancient woman. She
had him lie down and transferred her slit from Candy's to his mouth. It
was wet and hot.

He went on telling me this exciting tale. He naturally slipped his
tongue in as far as it could reach. He felt Candy's mouth on his cock
again and bucked and arched and licked and sucked. It took longer but
still he could not help himself and spurted. He felt Candy swallowing
every last drop. He slowed down with his tongue but felt a finger
entering him. He didn't know whose nor did he care. Mistress Sabine told
him it was not over and just because he had come he must continue giving
pleasure until told enough. He kept licking and plunging his tongue in
her snatch for what seemed like an hour when she finally dropped off his
face and let out a sigh. Candy was on her other side and took his hand
and laid it on Mistress Sabine's pussy along with hers. He heard the
steady breathing of sleep and fell asleep himself.

This is how he first learned that pleasuring women was to become his
primary purpose. Later he learned the alternatives as well. Still later
he learned many things from Mistress Sabine's schooling before being
purchased by Auntie Val and brought to Nancyville. Gerry told me he had
1001 stories but that I probably wouldn't be interested in listening to
a sissy like him. I didn't tell him but his story excited me and I did
want to hear more of his tales as much I wanted to tell him tales of
Nancyville.

THE END

By Lise Blonde

Ben and Marsha

I met Marsha in the spring of my senior year of college. It was a blind
date set up by my roommate and one of Marsha's girlfriends. For me it
was love at first sight. I am not sure what was going through Marsha's
mind. I suppose you could call her feelings for me love, though of a
very unusual variety.

We did the usual undergraduate dating ritual; a movie followed by a
pizza. I did not have a car at the time so Marsha drove. She drove a
new BMW, and it did not take long for me to figure out that she had a
rich daddy. After the pizza she took me back to my dormitory and we
went up to my room. It was a Friday night and my roommate had gone home
for the weekend so we had privacy. Once inside my room, Marsha came on
to me like a cat in heat. Her tongue was in my mouth. Her hand wrapped
around my growing erection. It was wonderful. I had never been with a
woman before who took on the role of the sexual aggressor. In all of my
prior dating experiences I had struggled to get to first base. It seems
that every girl I dated was either indifferent to my advances or
preoccupied with saving their virginity for someone other than me.

Marsha quickly undressed me before removing her own clothes. I just
stood there a bit dumbfounded, my cock at full mast. Soon we were on
the bed. Marsha climbed on top of me and began kissing me hard. Her
right hand wrapped around my penis again and in a matter of seconds I
was spilling cum all over myself.

"My but that was quick. I was hoping you would last a little longer
Ben," said Marsha.

"I ... I am sorry Marsha. It just felt so good to have you doing that.
I better go clean up the mess."

I ran into the bathroom and used a wet washcloth to clean myself. My
penis has shrunk back to its normal rather small size. When I went back
into the dorm room, Marsha was laying on her back on my bed. She was
naked, and her legs were spread in a wide V, fully exposing her pussy to
my gaze. She wiggled her index finger toward me, beckoning me to come
forward. I had visions of mounting her like a stud and driving my penis
inside her, giving her a good sound fucking. Sadly, my little member
was not up to the task and still hung limply between my legs.

Marsha looked me up and down and smiled. "Come here love. Give me a
kiss."

I went forward and bent to kiss her lips. Her hands went up and she
held my face away from her mouth. "Not on my mouth hon. I want you to
kiss me down there."

She pushed my head down toward her pussy. While I had never actually
touched a girl's pussy before, let alone kissed one, I was certainly
familiar with such things, as boys my age tend to talk about little else
but sex. At first I was a bit repulsed by the smell and taste, since
that part of the female anatomy serves a dual role; reproduction and
waste removal.

She was quite slippery and wet. Soon my cheeks were pressed tightly
against her inner thighs, as my lips and tongue explored her vagina.
Marsha was rather vocal, telling me what to do; letting me know what
felt good and what did not. I discovered her clitoris for the first
time and it became apparent that it was the centerpiece of her sexual
pleasure. I must have licked and nibbled her sex for at least half an
hour. She had several orgasms, or at least I assumed they were orgasms
for I had no prior experience with that. I was nearing exhaustion when
she finally released her grip on my head and allowed me to come up for
air.

My lips and tongue were sore from the exertion. My face was smeared
with her fluids and the smell of her sex filled my nostrils even after I
withdrew from her pussy. I sat on the edge of my bed and looked
lovingly into Marsha's eyes. I smiled.

"That was nice Ben. With a little training you could become very good
at oral service."

"Th ... thanks Marsha. I have never done anything like that before and
I was not really sure what to do."

"You just do what I tell you to do Ben, and we will get along fine."

"Yes Marsha, of course. You just tell me what to do, and I will try my
best to please you."

By this time my limp penis was showing signs of life. It was not as
hard as the first time, but it was definitely growing.

"Ben, do you ever masturbate?"

"Gosh Marsha, that is an awfully personal question."

"Ben, we just had sex. We are both here naked. I would say that
entitles me to ask personal questions, wouldn't you?"

"Yes I guess so Marsha. Yes sometimes I do. Sometimes I masturbate."

"I want to see you do it now Ben. Do it for me, ok?"

"Right now, in front of you? I have never had an audience before
Marsha. I would be too embarrassed."

"Look Ben my dear, you have already had one orgasm in front of me. This
time, instead of me using my hand, I want you to use your hand. Do not
make such a big deal out of it. Just do it."

"Yes Marsha, if that is what you really want."

So I started pulling on my penis. I squeezed and pulled and ran my hand
up and down the shaft. Slowly I got harder. It took quite a while and
my arm was starting to tire from all the pumping action but finally I
could feel it starting. I began to moan as cum started to boil up
inside my penis.

Marsha was watching, studying me intently. As I was about to explode
she said, "Catch it in your other hand Ben. Do not make another mess."

I did as instructed, shooting a good sized glob of semen into the palm
of my left hand. I stood looking at Marsha, waiting, not knowing what
to do next.

"Lick it off your hand now Ben."

I looked up startled. "What? You want me to ......"

"Lick it up Ben. Clean up your mess now."

In hindsight, this was one of those major turning points in a person's
life. I could have, perhaps should have, said 'fuck you' and gone to
the bathroom and washed my hands. But Marsha was so sexy and she was
the first girl I ever had sex of any kind with. I did not want to loose
her on our first date. I wanted to see her again. So, I obeyed her. I
bent my head down, stuck out my tongue and lapped up the puddle of cum
from the palm of my hand. I wanted to gag, to throw up. It was so
alien for me to do this. I know some girls like to suck cocks; like to
swallow cum, but I am a boy and boys do not do this unless they are gay
or something.

After watching me swallowing my own warm semen, Marsha got up and put
her clothes back on. I stood there sort of dumbfounded. She turned to
me and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Good night Ben. I had a nice time tonight. I hope you did too."

"Y ... yes Marsha. It was wonderful. It was the best date ever for me.
Thank you so much. I hope we can go out again soon."

"I will call you. Do not call me, ok?"

"Yes ok Marsha. I will wait for you to call. Good night Marsha"

"Good night Ben."

A week went by as I waited and hoped that Marsha would call me. I had
time to take stock of things; to think about the future. I was about to
graduate from a third rate college with a degree in accounting. I had
crummy grades; my cumulative GPA was 2.2 on a 4.0 scale. I had taken
the CPA exam and failed it miserably. The best jobs for accounting
majors are with the big CPA firms, but that door was clearly closed to
me. I was realistic enough to know that my best shot at employment was
as an entry level bookkeeper, the lowest rung in the accounting ladder.

I grew up in a small town in Nebraska, raised by a single mom. We
survived due to her hard work, but we certainly never prospered. I
worked summers for college money and between that and student loans and
low income grants, I managed to get through. My college loans were
nearly $100,000 and I knew it would be many years before I could ever
hope to be debt free.

Fully grown, I was five foot six inches tall and weighed 130 pounds. I
was anything but athletic. I was healthy as far as that goes, but was
certainly not muscular. It is no wonder I never had much luck relating
to the opposite sex.

I went on line to try to find out more about Marsha. There were quite a
few hits on Goggle. She was from Pittsburgh, PA. She was a debutant of
sorts. Her family seemed connected with a number of businesses and
appeared to be quite wealthy. She had four brothers, all older, and was
the only girl in the family. I daydreamed about Marsha. In my dreams
we were married and living in a fancy house in Pittsburgh. We had tons
of money and drove expensive cars. There were servants in the house.
It was a life of luxury such as I had never known.

Finally after ten days Marsha called. She made a date for that evening.
She picked me up at my dorm and drove over to a small town about ten
miles away from campus. We stopped at a store and she bought a bottle of
wine and some snacks. She had a reservation at a motel. We settled
into the drab room and she poured us each a glass of wine. We sat side
by side on the edge of the bed. We kissed. Her hand went into my
crotch again. I was very erect and ready. Any hopes I had of engaging
in sexual intercourse with her were soon dashed. She undressed me. She
played with my erection for a while. I was getting close to a climax,
when she replaced her hand with mine. She grabbed my wrist and worked
my hand up and down, as I squeezed my penis. When my climax approached
I was once more told to catch it, and then to eat my own semen.

When I was finished Marsha took off her clothes and spread her legs.
Knowing that penile penetration was impossible, I got on my knees on the
floor and put my face between her legs. My session of oral servitude
lasted a long time. She was relentless. She had many orgasms as my
tongue flitted against her little clitoris.

We spent half the night engaged in Marsha's unusual form of sex. I was
able to masturbate two more times, always licking and swallowing my own
emissions. My face was between her legs for hours as her appetite for
cunnilingus seemed never to be fulfilled.

Finally, both exhausted, we fell asleep on the bed in this seedy motel
room. The next morning we showered, put on our dirty clothes and drove
back to campus. Once more Marsha told me not to call her, but to wait
for her call.

We had three more dates before graduation. Each time the sex involved
me giving Marsha oral sex, while she watched me masturbate and eat my
own cum. I know it sounds strange, but I liked it. I liked licking
Marsha's pussy and giving her pleasure. And I liked the pleasure I got
from masturbating in front of her. There was something about Marsha
that filled a need for me. And I guess I was filling her needs too for
she did keep calling and we did keep seeing each other.

At the graduation ceremonies Marsha introduced me to her parents. She
called me her boyfriend. They were a handsome very well dressed middle
aged couple. They took us both out to lunch at the local country club,
where her father said he had reciprocal privileges. We had an elegant
and very expensive meal. The conversation dealt with our future plans.
Marsha was going to Chicago where she would start law school in the
fall. It seems her father and grandfather and brothers were all
lawyers. I indicated that I would be searching for an accounting job,
but had not secured anything yet.

Her father asked where I would be settling after college. I said that I
was not sure. The local Nebraska economy was not that great, and I
thought maybe I would have better job prospects in a bigger city. Her
father gave me his business card and said to call him and that he would
help me find work. While we engaged in these pleasantries in the
country club dining room Marsha, who was sitting next to me, reached
under the table and started to play with my penis. I concentrated on
acting normally, pretending nothing was happening. She gave me a
devilish grin and kept stroking my now hardening cock. Thankfully
dinner ended before I wet my pants or I can not imagine how embarrassed
I would be.

We drove back to campus and said our goodbyes. Marsha would be driving
her car back East, while my mother would drive me back to small town
Nebraska. My college days were ended.

It was two weeks after graduation, and my efforts at finding work in my
home town had proved futile. I decided to give Marsha's father a call.
I got his secretary. He was unavailable but she took mother's home
phone number and said he would call me back.

The call back came the next day. He was quite cordial and said that he
had lined up a job in the Chicago office of one of his businesses. He
quoted me a salary which was a little more than I had hoped for and I
immediately said yes. I was told to report for work the following
Monday. I had a job!

While we lived in a fairly small town in Nebraska, it did still have
Amtrak service, so I took the train to Chicago. The company I was to
work for had arranged for me to stay at a hotel for a week until I could
find an apartment. While I was rather intimidated by the hectic pace of
this large city, I managed to get everything arranged without getting
lost or mugged. I found an affordable apartment near an L station.
After studying public transport maps, I figured out the route to my new
job. It involved riding the elevated train to the loop and then
changing to a bus that took me to the northwest side where I would be
working.

It all fell in place nicely. I was able to get around fine without a
car. I got settled in to my new job. Thankfully, it was a basic a
bookkeeper's job, so it was not beyond my level of competence. The
people at work were nice to me, but I suspect some of their kindness was
due to the fact that the owner of the company had hired me. At any rate
I performed my job adequately and everyone seemed pleased with my work.

My social life was non-existent. I lived in a nice area with lots of
young singles. At night the local bars were packed with people like me.
I tried to play the role. I would buy a girl a drink, and attempt
conversation. But in the end, I always went home alone. I could not
compete with the lawyers and bankers and athletes. No girl was
interested in this short scrawny bookkeeper from Nebraska.

Failing to find any females interested in me, I resorted to masturbation
to relieve my sexual tensions. The first time I did it in Chicago was
shortly after moving into my little apartment. I just sat on the toilet
and used my hand to bring myself off. I caught my emissions in my left
hand and sat and stared at the puddle of spunk in my palm. I thought
about Marsha. I wished that she were here with me. I know it sounds
sick and disgusting, but somehow I felt compelled to eat my cum again,
knowing how pleased Marsha would be if she were here. I fell into that
pattern. Eating it became a part of my little ritual. I started doing
it every night. Then it went to morning and night. I would sit in my
bathroom twice a day and force myself to swallow the slime which spurted
into my hand, as I engaged in this ritual of self pleasuring.

I was not happy. I was surviving, making a living. But after all the
deductions my pay was barely adequate to pay the rent and buy essentials
and make payments on my student loans. There was never any money left
at the end of the week for luxuries of any sort.
But my unhappiness was not simply due to my economic situation. I was
unhappy with my sex life, or lack thereof. I took pleasure in my
masturbatory activities, but also felt guilt when it was finished. It
is not normal for a 22 year old to do that sort of thing and certainly
not normal to swallow his own spunk.

I guess I have always been unhappy about my body, my physique or should
I say my lack of physique. Over the years I had tried to gain weight
and muscle mass by eating more and exercising but it never seemed to
make much difference. If I really worked at increasing my caloric
intake I could gain two or three pounds but the weight seemed to be
manifested in tummy fat rather than bigger biceps.

It was early September when Marsha called. I had been in Chicago for
the whole summer and was well settled into my pathetic routine when one
Friday night I got a call from her.

"Ben? It's Marsha. I am in Chicago, getting ready to start law school.
I want to see you."

"Hi Marsha. That's great. I have really missed you. I was hoping I
might hear from you again when you started school. Where are you?"

She gave me an address on Lake Shore Drive. I splurged and took a taxi.
It was a very upscale condominium building with lake front views. There
was a doorman in uniform. He showed me to the elevator. Her unit was
on the top floor.

I had barely said hello when Marsha was on top of me right on the floor
of her entryway. She was pressing her body against mine, sliding around
and rubbing as she kissed me deeply. Her hot wet tongue reacquainted
itself with my mouth. I immediately got an erection. She pulled
herself off me and, grasping my wrist, pulled me up and led me to her
bedroom. It was palatial. I swear her bedroom was bigger than my whole
apartment.

She quickly undressed as did I. My rather small penis was as hard as it
gets but she was focused on her own pleasure so mine would have to wait.
I was between her legs with my mouth for most of the evening, taking her
to several orgasms. Finally she relaxed her legs, allowing me to
withdraw from her wet pussy. I sat back and reached for my penis which
remained hard. Marsha reached out and pulled my hand away.

"Naughty naughty! Don't do that Ben."

"But Marsha my love, isn't it my turn? Didn't I please you?"

"I will let you know when it is your turn Ben. If you persist in
touching that thing, I just might have to give you a spanking."

Her words gave me a rush. An image flashed through my mind. I was on
Marsha's lap being spanked on my bare bottom. I felt my penis throb. I
had read about such things, but never before considered that I might
actually like it. With a grin on my face I purposefully reached down
and began to stroke my penis. In an instant I felt the sharp sting of
her palm as she slapped my face. I was startled. There were tears in
my eyes.

"Ben, I told you to leave your nasty thing alone. I am not going to
tell you again."

I hesitated. It was another of those critical moments when I could have
gone down one of two paths. Whether right or wrong, I choose the path
of least resistance. I let go of my cock and got back down between her
legs, using my lips and tongue as best I could to please my beautiful
princess. I spent most of the night that way. I lost track of the
number of times Marsha climaxed, but I certainly knew the number of
times I had an orgasm; none.

I spent the night in her bed, serving her insatiable lust. On Saturday
morning she filled her sunken bathtub with warm water and bubbles and
heady feminine smells. It was a huge tub; large enough for two. Marsha
bathed me lovingly. I just relaxed and let her pamper me. It was such
a nice contrast to our night of sexual pleasure for her and denial for
me. It seems that it was finally my turn to receive some pleasure. She
carefully washed my penis, handling it in a business like way and not
causing me any more sexual arousal.

When she finished soaping me, Marsha took a razor and shaving cream. As
we sat in her bathtub she lathered my face and very carefully gave me a
nice close shave. I do not have much of a beard and usually only shave
a couple times a week, but she said she wanted me nice and smooth so
that my whiskers would not scratch her pussy.

After finishing my face Marsha shaved off the handful of hairs sprouting
from my chest. I started to object but decided to remain passive and
let her enjoy pampering me. Then Marsha slid down to the other end of
the tub and pulled my right leg out of the water. She lovingly lathered
it using both hands to encircle my leg. Then she carefully shaved off
all my leg hair. She repeated the process with my left leg. She came
back up to me and shaved the hair under my armpits. When she was
finally finished the only hair left was that on my head, my eyebrows and
lashes, and my pubic hair. Thank god she did not want to shave me
there.

She drained the tub and brought several large fluffy bath towels to dry
us both. Again, I stood passively while Marsha carefully dried me with
the towel. It felt different to be smooth in places where I previously
had hair. After toweling me dry, Marsha took a powder puff and patted
powder on my skin. The powder was scented. It smelled nice. I ran my
hands down my bare chest and legs. The smooth silky feel was not
unpleasant.

Marsha combed out and blow dried my hair. I normally part it on the
left, but she fussed with my hair, combing some hair forward into a
little bang and putting a part down the middle of my head so my hair
came down to just cover my ears on both sides. When she was finished
Marsha stood facing me and pulled me into a deep kiss. It felt so nice,
with my newly smooth and powdered body pressed tightly against Marsha's
soft feminine curves.

"Ben darling, I want you to stay with me for the weekend. I assume you
have no other plans."

"No Marsha, there is nothing on my schedule except doing laundry and
ironing and maybe buying some groceries."

"That can all wait Ben. I want us to have fun this weekend."

"That sounds wonderful Marsha, you such a very special girl to me. I
would love to stay the weekend with you."

"You are a very special girl to me too Ben. We can have so much fun
together."

"But Marsha, I did not bring any change of clothes with me. The only
clothes I have are what I wore all day yesterday."

"Oh that's no problem Ben. I am sure am sure I can find some of my
stuff that will fit you. We are about the same size."

"But Marsha, I can't wear your clothes, even if they might fit alright."

"Don't be silly Ben. Of course you can wear my clothes. Haven't you
ever heard of the unisex look? Don't be so old fashioned Ben. This is
not Nebraska. We are in Chicago. People are more sophisticated here.
You see guys wearing unisex clothing all the time."

"Well, I guess it would be alright then Marsha. Jeans are jeans, as
long as they fit me. Yes! I will stay the whole weekend and borrow
some of your things to wear."

"Good girl! We are going to have so much fun Ben. I can't wait to get
you dressed so we can go out and hit the shops together."

We went back to her bedroom and Marsha began to rummage through her
closet and drawers. She was humming a tune as she sorted through piles
and racks of her clothes. Her closet was huge and every space in it
seemed to be filled.

I sat on the bed as Marsha picked out something for me to wear. The
first item she tossed on the bed was a pair of pale blue satiny panties.

"I can't wear those Marsha. Don't you have any cotton underpants?"

"Sorry Ben, but I do not wear cotton panties. Mine are all like this.
If you like I can give you a different color."

"No that's ok Marsha. If it is all you have, I guess I can wear these
today. It's not like anyone will see them after I am dressed."

"Good girl! Here is the matching bra."

"A bra? I don't wear bras. I don't have breasts. Why would I wear a
bra Marsha?"

"They are a matched set silly. All of my panties and bras are matched
sets Ben. That is what I wear in case you have not noticed."

"But can't I just wear the panties, and not the bra?"

"No, you certainly may not Ben. It is a matched set and the bra and
panty are made to be worn together. You should be thankful that I am
letting you borrow them and not be so picky about it."

"Ok fine. I will wear the damn bra if that is what you want."

"Yes Ben. That is what I want. Now try them on for fit."

I pulled the smooth shiny panties up my freshly shaved legs. As I
pulled the panties up over my hips, my penis was pulled up until it
rested against my lower belly. You could see the outline of my male
equipment under the nylon panties.

"That will never do Ben. Push you penis down between your legs so that
it does not bump out like that."

I slid my hand down the front of the panties and tucked my penis and
balls down between my legs. The front of the panty looked smooth.
There was no indication that they were being worn by a male.

"That is much better Ben. Now put on the bra please."

I remembered Marsha would put her bras on backwards so she could hook
them together in front and then rotate it all 180 degrees before putting
her arms through the shoulder straps. I tried that with the blue bra
and it worked fine. There were three hooks and eyes to fasten and then
I was in. It felt strange having something tight and compressing around
my chest. It was not uncomfortable; just different.

"Turn around Ben. Model your pretty underwear for me."

With considerable embarrassment, I did a little twirl so she could see
me from all four sides. Then I sat back down on the bed as Marsha
resumed her closet search. She came out of the closet with a white
blouse and a pair of blue jeans each on hangers. She handed me the
blouse first. It was a heavy white cotton oxford cloth very similar to
the fabric in the dress shirts I wore to work. I started to put the
blouse on as I would my own shirts but something was wrong with the fit.

Marsha started to giggle. "You have it backwards silly. It buttons in
back, not in front."

I realized my error and pulled my arms out of the sleeves, turned the
blouse around and slipped my arms back into the opposite sleeves. There
were nine buttons in back and it took me some time and fumbling to get
them all buttoned but I did manage. Why on earth would they ever make a
shirt with buttons in back? No wonder it takes girls so long to get
dressed!

The blouse had a high collar which Marsha called a Mandarin collar as it
was similar in style to some traditional Chinese fashions. The long
sleeves ended in wide cuffs which had four buttons. Once the sleeves
were buttoned it fit rather tightly around my wrists. Overall the
blouse fit fine although it was rather loose at the bust line for
obvious reasons.

I sat back on the bed and began to pull on the jeans. They were very
tight going up my legs, but unlike the denim in my old jeans, this
fabric seemed to have a little stretch to it. I managed to get the
jeans up over my butt. I stood and tried to zip them up but they were
about two inches too small at the waist.

"These are too small Marsha. I can't get them zipped."

"The jeans are not too small Ben. You are just too fat. I know just
the ticket. Let me find a waist cinch."

That is the first time anyone accused me of being fat. I have always
been this scrawny underweight guy. I mean I only weigh 130 pounds
soaking wet. How can she accuse me of being fat?

Marsha came back and handed me the waist cincher. It was a stretchy
spandex and nylon thing about a foot wide which wrapped around the waist
and fastened with about a dozen hooks and eyes. Before I could put it
on, I had to pull the jeans down and unbutton the lower buttons of the
blouse. Once that was done, I sucked in my gut and wrapped the cinch
around my waist and began the slow process of hooking the two ends
together. It was very tight and my waist was considerably compressed by
it.

Finally I got everything back in place and buttoned up. The jeans fit
much better now that the cinch had better defined my waist line. I
stood up and as I started to walk I nearly fell on my face. The jeans
were much too long and my bare feet kept stepping on the cuffs of the
jeans.

"Marsha I do not think I can wear these jeans. They are way too long
for me."

"They will be fine once you put shoes on Ben. They are meant to be worn
with shoes with a heel."

"But even in my sneakers I think they will still be too long."

"Well you are not going to wear sneakers Ben. I will find something
with a little more heel for you."

Next Marsha handed me a pair of socks, or I should say stockings. They
were a white nylon stretch fabric and came up to my knees. I realized
it would have been easier to put the stockings on first before my jeans,
but I managed to get them on eventually.
What Marsha found was a pair of front lacing black oxfords which almost
looked like a man's dress shoe except they had a four inch block heel.
I sat back down on the bed and let Marsha put them on my feet. They
seemed to fit fine. She laced them and tied the bows just like a
salesman would do at a shoe store. I stood up. The jeans hung fine
now. They covered most of the high heel and the cuff was about an inch
off the floor.

I took a few tentative steps in the four inch heels and managed not to
fall on my face. It was challenging to walk in them, but after a little
practice I seemed to find my balance. I was very aware of my added
height. Having always been self conscious of my small stature, it was
sort of nice to be five foot ten instead of five foot six.

Then she got the phone call.

"Hello."

"Hi Daddy. Yes Daddy. Yes he is here. Yes all night. No. No he did
not do that Daddy. I am fine. I won't get pregnant Daddy. Yes Daddy.
Yes, I understand. No, I promise Daddy. It will not happen again
Daddy. Yes Daddy. I love you too Daddy. Bye."

"It was my father. That bastard doorman sold us out to him. He knows
you spent the night with me and he is furious. You have to get out of
here Ben. Right now please. If you are not gone in five minutes the
doorman will call my father again. I am sorry Ben. But you have to go.
Please hurry.

I grabbed my wallet and house keys. I could not get them into my jeans
pockets as the jeans were skin tight. I stood looking helplessly at
Marsha. She handed me a black leather purse.

"Put your stuff in this Ben."

"Yes good. That will work. Goodbye Marsha. I am sorry about your
father. I do not want to make trouble for you and your family."

Marsha was practically pushing me toward the front door. "Bye Ben. I
will call you."

I took the elevator down to the lobby. I walked quickly hoping to avoid
the doorman. My high heels clacked noisily on the marble floor of the
lobby. He was there still wearing the silly doorman's uniform. He
stared at me with an odd grin on his face. I felt my face flush with
embarrassment and I exited the building.

I walked up to the corner to get away from the doorman's eye. I opened
my purse and checked my wallet. I had enough money for a cab so hailed
one and gave him the address of my apartment.

I got back into the safety of my apartment without anyone I knew seeing
me wearing girl's clothes. At first I wanted to just get out of
Marsha's clothing and put on something masculine. But I hesitated. I
walked into my bedroom and looked and myself in the long mirror. The
way she had styled my hair looked distinctly feminine. The blouse I was
wearing was unmistakably feminine. I could see the outline of the bra
even through the heavy oxford cloth. I looked at my tightly compressed
waist which seemed to help define my hips and certainly made my tight
jeans fit. I looked down at my feet. You could not see much of my
shoes but it was clear that I was wearing high heels, even though the
styling of them was rather masculine.

I decided to stay dressed for a while. I went into the kitchen and
poured myself a glass of white wine. I normally do not drink that much
and it was still morning, but today it seemed appropriate. I looked in
the black leather purse which Marsha had given me. In addition to my
wallet and keys the purse contained a number of Marsha's things. There
was a tube of red lipstick, several containers of eye makeup, a condom,
two tampons, and a compact with mirror and some kind of caked powder.

I suppose most men are curious about all the feminine things which girls
get to experience but we do not. At any rate, on a whim, I decided to
put on a little of her makeup, just to see how it felt. I went to my
bathroom and set the contents of her purse on the vanity. I tried the
lipstick first. My hand was shaking and I did a pretty messy job of it,
but I did manage to paint my lips bright red. I could taste the
lipstick. It was sort of a waxy taste, neither good nor bad. There was
some purple eye shadow in the purse which I used next. I was unsure how
to apply it. Just using my index finger I rubbed some onto my eyelids.
It did seem to enhance my eyes, making them look bigger and I guess more
attractive. I put some powder on my cheeks and a little blush to give
them more color.

So this is what a girl experiences every day when she "puts on her
face". It sure is time consuming. Everything about being a girl seems
to take longer, and cost more than just being a guy. But it was rather
fun to literally "walk in her shoes" just once to get a feel for what
femininity is all about.

I stayed dressed until bedtime. I busied myself tidying up my
apartment, washing all the dirty dishes and doing two loads of laundry
and ironing. It felt good to do these chores which I normally tend to
put off. There was something about doing "feminine" household chores
while dressed in girl's clothes which seemed to fit. I actually enjoyed
the work instead of dreading is as was usually the case.

At bedtime, I carefully got undressed and put all of Marsha's things in
an empty drawer of my chest. The panties, the bra, the blouse, jeans,
waist cinch, stockings and high heels were all lined up neatly in the
drawer. I took a shower and scrubbed off the makeup before hitting the
sack. I gathered all the makeup and put it back in Marsha's purse,
placing that in the drawer as well.
As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I kept thinking of Marsha. I saw
myself between her legs again. Except I was not wearing my clothes; I
was dressed as a girl. I was her lesbian lover in a way. The scene
kept repeating itself in my mind; always I was making oral love to my
darling Marsha, but the outfits I wore kept changing. I was wearing
jewelry now. I had earrings. My ears were pierced. I had breasts. My
bras were filled now. Thank god it was only a dream, or so I thought at
the time.

I hung around my apartment Sunday, hoping Marsha would call. She did
not.

Monday morning I got dressed for work as usual, did my morning commute
and walked into the office about twenty minutes before starting time.
My boss was already there. He called me into his office. He told me
there was a budget cutback, and they had to let me go since I was the
most recent hire. I was shocked. Things had been going so well at
work. The last thing I expected was to be unemployed. I asked about
references and my boss said that they would be happy to verify my prior
employment. I was not quite sure how to interpret that. It did not
seem like a very resounding endorsement. I was given a severance
payment of three weeks pay; one week for each month I had been employed.
While it was not a lot of money, it would help tide me over until I got
another job. Tearfully, I packed up the few personal items on my desk,
said goodbye to my co-workers and was back out on the street by nine
a.m.

I spent the rest of Monday morning updating my skimpy resume, adding my
summer of employment to my college student resume. I printed out a
hundred copies and began an intense job search. I used newspaper want
ads as well as several on-line job markets. I composed a series of
cover letters to be enclosed with my resume in order to try to customize
it to the particular help wanted ad I was replying to. By Monday night
I had thirty responses ready to mail.

The next morning I went to the local post office branch, bought 100
first class stamps and mailed the resumes I had prepared the day before.
I went back to my apartment and scanned the morning newspapers and on
line markets for any new postings. There were several which I prepared
responses to. It was lunch time and there did not seem to be much more
I could do about a job until I started getting replies and hopefully
interviews.

I took a nice long shower and washed my hair. I had not had it cut in a
while and it was getting long and shaggy looking. I thought about how
Marsha had fixed my hair on Saturday morning. I got out my blow dryer
and attempted to duplicate her styling efforts. It did not look quite
the same, but it did look more feminine, which was clearly how Marsha
preferred me to look. I felt my face. There was a little beard stubble
so I decided to shave. I shaved my face in the usual way. I could not
feel anything on my chest, but there was some stubble in my armpits and
on my legs, so I lathered and shaved there as well.

I opened the drawer where Marsha's things were stored. I put on the
knee high nylon stockings and waist cincher first this time. Then I put
on the blue bra and panty set. The bra cups did not look right since my
breasts were incapable of filling them. I pulled a pair of old cotton
socks from my underwear drawer. I folded one and stuffed it into my
right bra cup. It pretty much filled the cup and gave the bra a more
natural look or so I thought. I stuffed the other cup the same way.
Now I actually had something sticking out there, like any girl would.

I put on the white blouse, slowly buttoning it in back and at the cuffs.
I pulled on the jeans which seemed even tighter than before. I guess
Marsha was right. I am too fat. I better start dieting and try to
loose a few pounds. I slipped the high heeled oxfords on my stocking
feet and laced them tight. I got up and walked around a bit. I looked
at myself in the mirror. The blouse looked much better now that I had
stuffed my bra, or should I say Marsha's bra.

I got out her makeup and applied lipstick, eye shadow and this time some
eye liner as well. I powdered my face and worked in a little blush.
While still not perfect, I was pleased with the results. As I stood
admiring this feminine image reflected back from my mirror I could feel
my penis getting hard. It seemed that I was turning myself on! I
really liked what I saw in the mirror. I hated to admit it, but with my
body and face I made a much nicer looking girl than a man.

I rubbed my hand at the crotch of my tight jeans as my penis attempted
to expand in its tight confines. Finally I unzipped my jeans and peeled
them down to my knees. I pulled my panties down, and my cock bobbed up
at full mast. It took only a few strokes before I exploded. I caught
my emission in my left hand, brought that up to my face and licked it
clean just a Marsha had taught me.

It was not the same as when I was with Marsha. Not as good as when she
watched me do it. But, it did feel nice, and it got rid of the swelling
at my crotch. After cleaning myself, I pulled the panties back in place
and pulled up my jeans as well. I stayed dressed as a girl until
bedtime. I liked wearing Marsha's clothes and makeup. It made me feel
closer to her somehow. I sensed that if she were here, she would have
been pleased.

A week passed before I got my first replies to the resumes I had mailed
out. Each letter was different, but the messages were the same. "Thank
you for your resume. Your qualifications do not fit our current
requirements. We will keep your resume on file ...."

By the end of the second week I had gotten replies from most of the
resumes sent out. I continued to look for new ads and sent a dozen more
resumes, but nothing seemed to come of it. I was spending nearly all of
my time at home now. My money was running out. The rent was due. I
was starting to panic.

Marsha never called. I knew how she had always insisted that she call
me, and that I was not to call her, but I was getting desperate. I
tried her number and got voice mail. I left a message asking her to
please call me.

Another day passed and she had not returned my call so I left a second
message and then a third. Still she did not return my calls. As a last
resort, I took bus to her Lake Shore Drive condo. I dressed in my
"interview" suit with a white shirt and tie. When I entered the lobby
of her building the same doorman stood blocking my entry.

"Miss Marsha is not in."

"When do you expect her? I can wait."

"No Sir, you can not wait here. Miss Marsha will not be having male
visitors no more Sir."

"What do you mean she will not have male visitors? She is 22 years old
and she has a right to see anyone she pleases."

"No Sir. Miss Marsha's Daddy owns her condo and he say that I am not to
let any mens up there no how no way Sir."

I was at a loss for words. He stood like a pillar blocking my entry. I
gave up. I turned and walked out of the building. I took the bus back
to my apartment. When the door closed behind me I started to cry. No
job. No money. My girlfriend does not return my calls. I am not
allowed into her building. No one wants to hire me. I am fucked.

As I sat on my couch sobbing over my misfortune my phone rang. One of
my resumes had hit pay dirt. I had and interview the next morning.

The interview went well. I was told the job was mine, subject to
reference checks. I was elated.

A day later they called me at home. "We are sorry, but your last work
reference was not acceptable. We have decided to hire someone else."

I asked what the problem was about my reference. They refused to go
into detail except to say that I had been fired for "cause". On my
resume I had said I was laid off due to budget cuts. They assumed I had
lied on my resume. I was fucked. It was clear now that it was Marsha's
father who had just fucked me.

In the fourth week of my unemployment, my credit card was cancelled
because the bill was overdue. I got an eviction notice from my
landlord. I did not have enough money to even buy groceries. It looked
like a good time to go on a strict diet.

Finally on a Tuesday night out of the blue Marsha called. She wanted to
see me. I told her how the doorman would not let me, or any other men,
into her condo. She said she would come to my place. She asked me if I
still had the clothes she had lent me. I said yes. She asked me if I
would wear them again for her. I said I would.

I dressed as quickly as possible. I stuffed my bra with socks again. I
did full makeup, using everything in her purse. I styled my hair. I
thought I looked pretty good, for a boy trying to look like a girl. The
doorbell rang. It was Marsha, looking more beautiful than I had ever
seen her.

"Hi Ben. You look good. I am glad you used makeup. That makes such a
nice difference."

"Hi Marsha. Oh god I really have missed you. I lost my job and I have
not been able to find any work, and I am about at wits end."

Marsha embraced me. We kissed. I could taste her lipstick, and I am
sure she could taste mine. Our tongues danced. My faux breasts pressed
against her so very real ones.

"Oh Ben don't worry. Everything is going to be alright. Mistress
Marsha will take care of you. And I know how much you like taking care
of Mistress Marsha. Now get down on your knees and show me how much you
enjoy worshiping my pussy."

I bent to my knees while Marsha stood towering over me. I unzipped her
skirt and let it fall to her ankles. I pulled down her panties. My
tongue went to work. I stayed on my knees paying homage to her most
feminine pussy for nearly an hour. She had at least five orgasms, maybe
more.

Finally Marsha stepped back and motioned me to rise. She sat on my
couch and told me to fix her a drink. I did not have any wine, but
there was a little bit of scotch left in a bottle I had bought earlier
in the summer. I emptied the bottle into a glass and added ice cubes.
Marsha was sitting on my couch when I returned with the drink. I handed
it to her and she motioned for me to sit on the floor at her feet.

"Marsha I am about to be evicted from my apartment. I have no money
left. My last employer is giving me bad references so no one seems
willing to hire me. I do not know what to do."

"Why don't you move in with me Ben?"

"Really Marsha? You want me to move in with you; to live with you?
That would be great."

"Then it's settled. Tomorrow you move into my condo."

"But what about the doorman? What about your father? The doorman told
me he will not let any men into your condo. It is impossible for me to
live with you under those circumstances."

"You will not be living with me as a man Ben. Daddy and the doorman do
not mind me having female guests. If you dress as a girl, and act like
a girl, everything will be fine."

"But Marsha, even in the girl's clothes I am wearing, the doorman will
spot me."

"Yes he probably would Ben. You really still look like a boy wearing
girl's clothes, not like the genuine article. But I know that with a
wig and a little more work on your makeup and some different clothes and
jewelry you will be able to walk right past the doorman and he will
never know the difference."

"Do you really think I could pull that off Marsha?"

"Yes Ben I do. It will take some work on your part, and of course you
must never again wear male clothing, but I am certain that we can pull
this off and Daddy will be none the wiser."

"That would be wonderful Marsha. I am not sure about having to wear
girl's clothing all the time, but frankly I do not have much choice. It
either that or start sleeping on the street, and I sure do not want to
do that."

"Then it is settled Ben. ....Ben. I can not call you Ben anymore. You
need a girl's name. Ben, Bren, Brenda. Yes Brenda. I like that name.
Do you like it Brenda?

"I guess its ok. Close enough to my real name that I will probably
respond to it. Yes, I suppose I can be Brenda for a while, until I get
back on my feet."

I went down on Marsha two more times that night. My tight girl's jeans
never came off, and my little penis stayed trapped between my legs, but
my girlfriend got a lot of pleasure from me. It was the least I could
do, considering she was going to bail me out of being homeless.

The next Morning Marsha picked me up and we went shopping. I wore the
same blouse and jeans and heels which she had lent me a month ago.
Marsha's credit card got well used as we spent most of the day shopping
for new clothes for me. She bought me five matching bra and panty sets,
another waist cincher, a high waist long leg panty girdle, a garter
belt, and six pair of nylon stockings. At a shoe store Marsha picked
out three pair of dressy high heels. These were all stiletto heels with
narrow pointed toes. When I tried them on, they pinched my feet some,
and the heels were higher than those on my oxfords, but they looked good
on my feet and I managed to walk in them without falling down.

At a clothing store, I got three skirts, three more blouses and one
slinky black dress.
Then she pulled me into a beauty shop. We tried several wigs. Finally
Marsha chose an auburn wig cut to about shoulder length. It made a huge
difference in my appearance. Then I got a manicure complete with bright
red nail polish. They did my makeup. I looked in the mirror when they
were finished. I had to admit that I was starting to look like a real
girl.

Our next stop was a jewelry store. She bought me a silver choker
necklace with a matching bracelet. I got three finger rings. Then
Marsha had them double pierce my ears, installing two silver ball studs
in each lobe. My earlobes were burning from the piercing, but the pain
was not really all that bad.

Marsha drove us to her condo. We both had our arms full of packages as
we entered the lobby. The doorman was at his usual station.

"James, this is my friend Brenda. She will be staying with me for a
while."

"How do you do Miss Brenda. If there is anything I can do to help you,
then you just give me a call please."

I tried to speak in a higher octave so he would not recognize my voice.
"Thank you James. That is very kind of you."

And with that, we walked into the elevator and up to Marsha's palatial
condo. We had pulled it off!

I never once went back to my old apartment. The only things there of
any value were a few pieces of cheap furniture, my male clothing, and a
few books. As I could not wear male clothing while staying with Marsha,
there seemed no reason to move it. I assumed that the landlord kept or
discarded what was left of my prior life.

Marsha was kept busy with her law school classes and studying. I rarely
left her condo, since I was still very uncomfortable as a female in
public. Marsha had been using a maid service three days a week, but
suggested that I could do that work and save her some money. It seemed
like a fair exchange, so while Marsha spent her days at the law school,
I kept busy with cleaning and dusting and mopping. She stopped sending
her laundry out and I started to do all the laundry and ironing. Again,
it was a way for me to help pay my way until I could find a proper job.

About a week after moving in with her, Marsha came home with a package
for me. It was a dress. Really it was more of a uniform than a dress.
It was gray with white trimming. It was tightly tailored and I needed
to wear my girdle in order to get the back zipper closed. As I modeled
the new dress for Marsha, I realized what it was; a maid's uniform.

I wore it all the next day as I did my household chores. Since I had no
low heeled shoes, I wore the black oxfords with the four inch block
heel. I had mixed feelings about wearing the maid's uniform. It was
more practical than wearing my dressier outfits, but there was a certain
stigma attached to it. It made me feel sort of low class and inferior,
but then compared to Marsha I guess I was pretty low class.

At mid day Charles the doorman called to tell me there was a delivery
for me. There were two packages. One was from a uniform supply
company. Inside were an additional three gray maid's uniforms identical
to the one I was wearing. There was a forth uniform which was much less
modest. It had a very short hem line, and was low cut in front, but
still it was unmistakably a maids uniform.

The other package contained three shoe boxes. Inside each shoe box was
a pair of high heels. They were identically styled but three different
colors; red, white and black. They were classically styled pumps with
stiletto heel and pointed toe. What was unusual about these shoes was
the extreme height of the heel, and the wide ankle strap. When I held
one of the new heels next to my foot I could see that the heels were
half again as high as the four inch heel on my oxfords. They had to be
six inches or a bit more. Upon further inspection I saw that the
leather ankle straps were designed to be closed with a small padlock.
Indeed there were two padlocks and keys in each shoebox.

I assumed that Marsha ordered these for me because it would please her
to see me thus dressed. So, I went ahead and took off my oxfords and
put on the black stilettos. I locked the ankle straps snuggly. There
was no way I could then remove these heels without the key. I put the
keys on the hutch where Marsha normally would leave her keys and purse
when she was home.

I spent the rest of the day trying to master walking in these extremely
high spike heels. By the time Marsha got home, my feet were painfully
sore and my calf muscles seemed tight as well. Marsha greeted me with a
big smile.

"I see your new uniforms and shoes arrived. Thank you for taking the
initiative to wear them Brenda."

"Yes I thought that might please you Marsha."

"Brenda, since I am the head of my household, and you are my maid, you
need to be a bit more respectful of me. I do not think it is at all
appropriate for a servant to be on a first name basis with her
Mistress."

She said I am her maid. So that is how it is. Even though my tongue is
inside her pussy nearly every day, she thinks of me as nothing more than
a servant. Damn. I offer her my love and she kicks me in the balls.

"Yes Mistress. Is that what you want? You want me to call you
Mistress?"

"Yes Brenda, Mistress will be fine. Thank you."

"May I bring you your glass of wine Mistress?"

"Yes. I will have red tonight. There is a Napa Cab in the wine rack.
Open that and bring me a glass."

"Yes Mistress."

My heels clacked as I quickly walked back to the kitchen to get her
wine. My feet felt awful, but I did not want to show any weakness in
front of Marsha so I sucked it up and did my job without complaint.
After serving her wine, I went back to the kitchen to prepare our
supper. I set two places at the dining room table. I placed the opened
bottle of cabernet next to Marsha's place and put an empty wine glass
with my own place setting. She was still in the living room when dinner
was ready. I walked into the living room.

"Dinner is ready to serve Mistress."

"Good girl Brenda."

Marsha walked directly to the dining room, while I went via the kitchen
to bring the food. I started to set the food dishes in the center of
the table to serve family style as had been our practice.

"Brenda, I want to make some changes in our dining routine. I really do
not think it is proper for a servant to share the table with her
Mistress. Henceforth you will serve my meals in the dining room and
when you are finished serving, you may eat your meal in the kitchen. Is
that understood?"

"Yes Mistress, I understand."

I served Marsha her meal. Then I cleared my own place setting and took
it back to the kitchen. I returned to the dining room and stood at the
side board awaiting any requests she might have. Her wine glass was
empty and she tapped on it.

"May I fill your wine glass Mistress?"

"Yes girl."

I took the bottle which was sitting within her reach and filled her
glass. Then I returned to the side table. I stood on my painfully sore
feet for another twenty minutes as Marsha took her time eating. I knew
that my own meal was sitting in the kitchen getting cold. Finally
Marsha rose from the table.

"You may clear now Brenda. I will be in the den studying. Do not
disturb me. I will call you if I need your assistance."

"Yes Mistress."

Tears started to stream down my face the moment Marsha left the dining
room. I had such high hopes when Marsha asked me to move in with her.
I actually thought we would be a couple; a pair of lovers although our
love had always taken on a rather odd twist. I had never had my penis
insider her. My orgasms were always at my own hand, while Marsha got
her pleasure from my oral ministrations. Yes it was not normal sex, but
still for me it was the closest I had ever come to having a real
girlfriend and one who seemed to enjoy my company.

But now things were different. We were not boyfriend and girlfriend.
We were servant and Mistress. In exchange for room and board and basic
necessities I worked very hard for Marsha. It was not love. It was
simple commerce. When I thought about it in those terms, I realized
Marsha was getting good value for what she was spending on my upkeep. I
know my new clothes and uniforms and high heels were not cheap, but then
it is not cheap to hire a full time live in maid these days either.

I managed to eat a bit of dinner sitting at the kitchen table. It was a
relief to be off my feet if only for a few minutes. Then I cleaned up
in the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and ran it. I was just ready to
sit and relax when I heard Marsha's voice from the den.

"Brenda, come here. I need you."

"Yes Mistress."

I walked as quickly as my high heels would allow and entered the den
where Marsha was pouring over a stack of law books.

"Brenda, up until now I have been sharing my bedroom with you. I really
should have done this sooner, but as you can well imagine it is very
inappropriate for a common servant to be sleeping in the bed of her
Mistress. I want you to move your things out of my room and into the
small bedroom in back. I am sure that will be more than adequate for
your needs."

"Yes Mistress. I will move everything to the back bedroom immediately
Mistress."

"Good girl. You are dismissed."

What ever did I do to deserve being treated like this? She has turned
into a complete bitch. But, I suppose in a way she is right. After all
she is the Mistress of the house and I am just here to serve her. At
least I still will have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head. If
Marsha had not come to my rescue I would probably be sleeping with the
winos at some mission by now.

I gathered my limited wardrobe and moved everything to the small back
bedroom. It did not take long as at that point I had very few
possessions. My new bed was a rather small single, in contrast the king
sized bed in Marsha's room. It was about ten pm by the time I had
everything organized in my new room. I was ready to sleep. I started
to take off my new high heels when I realized that I needed the key to
unlock the ankle straps. I walked back to the foyer where I had left
the keys earlier, but they were gone. She must have taken them; put
them in her purse.

I walked back to the den. The door was open and Marsha was still
studying.

"Excuse me Mistress, but do you have the keys to my ankle strap heels?"

"Yes I do have them. Now please go. You are breaking my concentration
and I still have a lot of reading to finish."

"But I need the keys to take my high heels off and get ready for bed
Mistress."

"Did you hear me girl? I said please go. I will unlock your heels in
the morning before you shower. You are dismissed."

"Yes Mistress. I am sorry to have disturbed you Mistress. Good night
Mistress."

I slept fitfully that night with my sore feet still locked into the ever
so high heels. In the morning Marsha did unlock them, allowing me to
shower and change into a fresh clean uniform. I carefully applied
makeup and put on my jewelry. The ankle strap heels were once more
locked on, so I knew that I would be in them for the full day again.
Before she left for classes that morning I was told to kneel and serve
her pussy. My own sexual needs were ignored and my erection untouched.
When Mistress Marsha left for the day, I immediately went into my
bathroom and quickly masturbated. I ate my own emissions as had become
my habit. Then I repaired my makeup and got busy with the day's
household chores.

Upon her return that evening I served her a glass of wine which had
become part of our daily routine. While Marsha sat sipping her wine, I
stood in my maid's uniform and locked on high heels awaiting further
instructions.

"Come here Brenda. There is something I need to discuss with you."

I walked over to stand facing her and she motioned for me to kneel,
which I did.

"Yes Mistress, what is it?"

"Did you masturbate today Brenda?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Did you ask my permission to do that Brenda?"

"No Mistress, I did not realize....."

"You did not realize that I might disapprove of your wasting time in
self-indulgent perversions, when you are supposed to be working for me?"

"In the future Brenda, you will not masturbate without my permission.
Is that understood?"

"Yes Mistress, I understand."

"Now, come over here and put that tongue of yours to work. Your
Mistress had a hard day and needs to unwind."

"Yes Mistress."

The next few days passed uneventfully as I was busy with my household
chores and with sexually servicing her most mornings and evenings. Of
course the erotic stimulation of being with Marsha on such an intimate
level caused my own sexual arousal as well. I fell back into my habit
of masturbating. I could not help it. My needs were too great, and
Marsha would not fulfill them for me. Then one evening as I served her
customary glass of wine she again asked the question.

"Brenda when is the last time you masturbated?"

"I can not be untruthful Mistress. I did it this morning."

"And when before this morning did you engage in that disgusting act
Brenda?"

"Well I guess it was yesterday morning Mistress. I do it most mornings,
after you go to class."

"Do you by chance recall a discussion we had a couple weeks ago. It
dealt with you not masturbating without permission."

"Yes Mistress I remember. I know I did not have your permission to do
it Mistress. I am guilty. I am sorry. I knew I should not have done
it Mistress, but I just get so needy and ..."

"So you openly defied me. You disobeyed a direct order. Tell me
Brenda, what do you suppose I should do about this little problem of
yours."

"I ... I don't know Mistress. I do not seem to be able to control
myself sometimes."

"You lack self control Brenda?"

"Yes Mistress, I am weak willed and lack self control."

"If you can not control your base urges Brenda, then it seems I must
control them for you. Don't you agree?"

"Yes Mistress, I guess it would be good if there was some way for you to
control it."

"Indeed there are ways to prevent a girl like you from self abuse.
There are several ways in fact. Would you like me to arrange it for you
Brenda?"

"Arrange what Mistress Marsha?"

"Arrange things so you stop masturbating like some common slut."

"Yes please Mistress. If there is something you can do to help me stop,
I guess that is what I need Mistress."

"Good girl. I am glad you agree with me on the need for me to take
action. We will deal with your problem on two levels Brenda; one
physical and one chemical."

"Physical and chemical? I do not understand Mistress."

"It is really quite simple Brenda. I will have you fitted with a
physical device which will prevent you having access to your little
Willy; your clit. And there are certain chemicals; drugs which will
also diminish your desires for self abuse."

"A device Mistress?"

"Yes girl, a device. They are commonly called chastity belts. They
cover up your naughty parts so you can no longer touch them. It's quite
simple really. You will agree to wear one of course?"

"Yes I guess so Mistress, if you think it is necessary."

"Yes Brenda. It is absolutely necessary if you wish to continue living
here. Of course you are free to leave any time Brenda. No one is
keeping you prisoner here."

"Yes Mistress I know I am free to go, but I really want to stay, to take
care of you."

"Good girl. I will get the ball rolling tomorrow. The sooner we can
stop you from all this nasty masturbation the better. Right Brenda?"

"Yes Mistress."

The phone rang the next morning about 10 am. It was Marsha. She made
me two appointments for that day. The first was at 11:45 am with a
Doctor Meyers. The second was at 3:00 pm with a man named Ralph at a
company called Metalwerkes. I changed out of my maid's uniform into a
nice skirt and blouse. I had to wear the ultra high heels as they were
locked on and Marsha had the keys. I checked my makeup and hair and
headed out for the first appointment.

I was still very self conscious about appearing in public dressed as a
girl, but after weeks of practice inside Marsha's condo I was a little
more confident about passing. Doctor Meyers' office was only a few
blocks from the condo and it was a nice day so I walked. My feet were
pretty sore by the time I arrived. The sign on the door said "Dr. Helen
Meyers DDS, MD, PhD."

I entered an empty reception area and went to the window. There was no
one around. I was about fifteen minutes early so I took a seat and
waited. At precisely 11:45 the door opened and a middle aged woman
wearing a white lab coat looked at me and simply said "Brenda?"

"Yes, I am Ben, a ... Brenda."

I was taken to an examination room and told to undress completely. I
took off my skirt and blouse. I removed my padded bra. I was wearing a
panty girdle with garters and stockings. I unfastened the garter tabs
and let the stockings fall to my ankles where the locked on heels
prevented any further removal. I unzipped the girdle and pulled it and
my panties down and off. I stood there naked but for my heels and
stockings. My penis was still tucked down between my legs and was soft.

Dr. Meyers spoke with a thick German sounding accent. She asked me the
usual medical history questions and jotted down my answers on a form.
She then closely examined me physically paying particular attention to
my chest, nipples and genitals. As I lay on the examination table Dr.
Meyers placed my feet in the stirrups and spread my legs wide apart
exposing my small penis and balls. She grasped my testicle sack and
pulled it hard, rolling my balls between her fingers. Then she stepped
away, returning with a hypodermic needle. I have always been squeamish
around needles, particularly when my boy parts were so exposed and
vulnerable.

The Doctor explained that she was giving me a local anesthetic and I
would just feel a little prick before numbness set in. As I was flat on
my back I could not see exactly what she was doing but I did feel the
needle prick. You might say she pricked my prick, but at the time I was
not thinking humorously. I could see that she put the hypodermic back
on a tray and could feel the numbness spreading through my penis. Next
I saw her take a metal forceps; a pliers like device and inserted one
part of it into my pee hole. It had to be a tight fit, and now I was
grateful she had used the local anesthetic. It was not painful but
there was still enough feeling that I could tell something was being
pushed down inside my penis. It is difficult to describe a procedure
which you can not see nor feel very well. Suffice it to say that when
Doctor Meyers was done I had a very thick stainless steel ring which
went into the tip of my penis and out the bottom side through a newly
pierced hole. I later learned that the piercing is called a Prince
Albert, presumably named after some inbred member of royalty who was the
first to enjoy this particular form of mutilation.

The whole procedure did not take more than a few minutes, and as I said,
there really was not any pain. As the local began to wear off there was
some discomfort. I could feel this steel ring in my penis. I could
feel the weight of it as it pulled my penis down between my legs. It
occurred to me that the ring might interfere with sexual intercourse,
but then sexual intercourse is not something I had ever experienced, nor
did I expect to as long as I was living with Mistress Marsha.

Leaving my newly pierced penis alone, Doctor Meyers moved back up to my
chest. She made little black marks on each side of each of my nipples.
Then she clamped them with a forceps so the dots were centered in the
open face of the clamp. Then, with no anesthetic whatsoever, she pushed
thick gauge hollow needles through my nipple flesh, leaving half of the
needle on either side of my nipple. A piece of jewelry with a stainless
steel ball on one end of a shaft was inserted in the hollow needle and
pushed through my flesh. As the needle was removed the barbell jewelry
remained embedded in my newly pierced flesh. A matching ball was
threaded to the end of the shaft, securing the jewelry in my nipples.
This did hurt. It hurt like hell. And there was blood. A fair sized
trickle of blood ran down my chest from each of my nipples. The Doctor
wiped the blood away and the bleeding soon stopped. My nipples burned
some but the initial intense pain of the piercing soon faded.

At this point I was instructed to get up from the examination table and
step into an adjoining room. It was a fully equipped dental operatory.
I took my seat in the dental chair which Dr. Meyers lowered to a nearly
horizontal position. She inserted some kind of hard rubber wedges into
each side of my mouth between my upper and lower jaws, forcing my mouth
wide open. Another forceps was inserted, clamping down hard on my
tongue. She pulled my tongue up and out of my mouth as far as anatomy
would allow. The underside of my tongue and the flap of skin connecting
it to the bottom of my mouth were thus exposed. Taking a scalpel, Dr.
Meyers began to cut away at this flap of skin which I later learned is
called a frenulum. As she cut away that flesh, I sensed that more of my
tongue was coming out of my mouth. I could feel my mouth filling with
blood. She used a suction device to remove the blood. Then she used an
electric cauterization tool to cauterize the wound, which stopped the
bleeding as it sterilized the wound. It was an extremely unpleasant
procedure as I could literally smell burning flesh as she cauterized the
wound. When the frenulum procedure was finished she left the forceps
clamped to my tongue as she pierced it with another heavy gauge hollow
needle. Stainless steel barbell jewelry was inserted through my tongue
in a manner similar to how my nipples had been done.

The forceps was released and then re-clamped further back on the
centerline of my tongue. A second piercing and another steel barbell
were installed. Finally a third tongue piercing was executed. At the
end I had, and still have, a row of three equally spaced steel barbells
running down the centerline of my tongue. The jewelry felt heavy. It
took up space in my mouth. When I tried to speak, I had a heavy lisp as
the jewelry interfered with my ability to form certain sounds. While my
speech subsequently improved as I learned to speak around my mouth
jewelry, I continue to have a mild lisp to this day.

After a final inspection, Dr. Meyers told me I was finished for today
and that I should get dressed. When I came into her office I had four
pierced earrings which I had gotten the day I moved in with Mistress
Marsha. I left with six new piercings; three in my tongue, two in my
nipples and one in my penis. I wondered if I was wearing enough steel
to set off a metal detector. While the answer was probably not, in a
short time I would be avoiding metal detectors like the plague.

Between appointments I did a little shopping. I bought some new
stockings. I saw a cute pair of boots that I had to have. They were
black leather knee highs with a spike heel and very pointed toe. I took
the chance they would fit because I could not try them on as the heels I
was wearing were still locked. As a boy I had worn a size 7 men's shoe.
As a girl I was size 8. As a boy I was self conscious of my small feet
which went with the rest of my small stature. As a girl, or more
accurately as a buyer of girls clothing, I was thankful that my feet
were small and there was a big selection in my size.

The address for Metalwerkes was about 25 blocks away, so I got a taxi.
We drove through a sort of dirty declining industrial area with lots of
old factory buildings, most of which seemed empty. The driver stopped
in front of a non-descript red brick commercial building. I paid and
got out of the cab and walked to the door of the building. There were
no windows and the door was solid metal clad. I tried opening it, but
it was locked. There were no signs to indicate that this was
Metalwerkes, but the street number was right, so I rang the door bell.
I must have rung it six times over the course of ten or fifteen minutes
standing there in my six inch heels. Finally the door opened. A rather
dirty man wearing work clothing and a leather apron faced me. I
identified myself as Brenda, and said that I had an appointment. He
nodded and led me to an anteroom. The room was devoid of furnishings
other than a small desk against one wall and a wooden box about a foot
square in the center of the room, harshly illuminated by a single bare
light bulb.

I was told to undress and stand on the box. This coarse man stood and
watched me as I carefully removed my clothing, folding things and
placing them on the desk. As at the Doctor's office, I removed
everything but my heels and stockings. Then I stepped up onto the box
and stood, quivering nervously having no idea what this was all about.

The man, whose name I never learned, got out a cloth measuring tape of
the kind a tailor shop might use. He began to measure me. He measured
me from my ankles to my neck and nearly everything in between. He first
made horizontal measurements, working from my neck down. Every inch or
two he would take a new measurement. He used a marking pen to put dots
on my flesh for each of the 'slices' which he measured. Later he
measured the vertical distances between dots, thus building a complete
'map' of my torso. He measured my wrists and my forearms. He recorded
all my measurements on forms on a clip board. Finally after nearly an
hour of humiliation, I was told I could get dressed and leave.

I got back to the condo in time to start supper. I set the dining room
table for one and set a plate in the kitchen for my own meal. When
Marsha arrived home from law school I greeted her with her usual glass
of wine. She was in a bubbly mood and immediately told me to undress so
she could see my new jewelry. I returned to the living room dressed
only in a skimpy garter belt, my stockings and my still locked high
heels.

I stood before Mistress Marsha. She carefully inspected the new ring in
my penis, hefting it for weight and observing how it went down inside my
pee hole before emerging on the underside of my penis about an inch down
from the tip. She gently touched the barbells in my nipples. It was
erotic. My nipples seemed much more sensitive now, and I could feel her
every touch. Finally I was told to open my mouth and stick out my
tongue. It was obvious to both of us that I could extend my tongue
further now; probably about an inch further. It was also obvious that
my increased tongue dexterity would enhance Mistress Marsha's pleasure
when it was inside her sweet pussy. I was expecting her to take my
newly modified tongue for a test drive but Mistress explained that I
would need a week of healing before using my tongue in that way.

When her inspection of my new adornments was finished Mistress said "How
was your Metalwerkes appointment Brenda?"

"It was very scary Mistress Marsha. This man, I do not even know his
name, but he was really coarse and dirty and I had to totally undress in
front of him. And then he made all these measurements, and he touched
me everywhere Mistress. I almost started to cry it was so awful."

"I am sorry it was an unpleasant experience Brenda, but it was important
that you be measured accurately. The good news is you will never have
to go back there again. They have all your measurements now and will
begin building your new things. It will take about a week."

"My new things Mistress?"

"Yes Brenda. You were measured for your new chastity belt and a few
accessories."

"Oh, I see. Yes you talked about that. About helping me to stop you
know......"

"Yes dear. You can be assured that masturbation will no longer be
possible once you are wearing your new things. By the way, I am going
to a great deal of expense for this. I do hope you appreciate that."

"Oh yes Mistress. I really do appreciate everything you do for me."

Marsha reached into her purse and pulled out three small packages.
"Doctor Meyers phoned in your prescriptions. I stopped at the drug
store on the way home to pick them up."

"My prescriptions Mistress? The Doctor did not say anything to me about
needing any medications."

"It is just a little something to help you feel better and look better
Brenda. Doctor Helen wants you on a testosterone blocker, a heavy dose
of estrogen, and a tranquilizer. The testosterone blocker is to help
control your male urges. You will stop walking around with a stiff
penis all the time. The estrogen will help your skin and facial hair
and perhaps even give you a little breast development. And the
tranquilizer, well that will just make you feel so much better about
everything Brenda. It should make it easier for you to get through the
days, to do your maid's work and to please me."

Marsha handed me the three pill bottles. Each was labeled with
directions for how many pills to take with what frequency. It was all
very simple and straight forward. Then it sort of hit me like a ton of
bricks. These meds would make me impotent. I might no longer be able
to have erections. And female hormones....will make my breasts grow;
turn me into a real girl, not just a boy wearing girl's clothing. And
the tranquilizers, I guess they are going to make me happy with the
changes.

"Mistress, are you certain that these meds are a good idea?"

"I have considered this carefully Brenda, and have discussed it with
your Doctor as well. Doctor Helen and I both feel that this is the
correct course of treatment for someone with your condition."

"Well if both you and the Doctor think it is best, then who am I to
disagree Mistress. Of course I will take my new meds just like Doctor
Meyers instructed. I am sure it will be good for me."

"Good girl! Now tell me, what did you do between your two appointments
today Brenda?"

"Oh I hope it was ok Mistress, but since I had some extra time I went
shopping. I needed some new stockings and got six pair. And then I saw
these really nice boots that I just had to have."

"New boots? You must model them for me Brenda. I will be curious as to
your taste in fashions."

"Yes Mistress. I have not even tried them on yet since my heels are
locked on. If you could unlock them please, I will go put on my new
boots and show them to you."

Marsha opened her purse and tossed me the keys to the ankle strap
padlocks. "While you are changing why don't you take your first dose of
pills too Brenda dear."

"Yes Mistress. I will thanks."

I trotted back to my small bedroom and unlocked the heels. It was a
relief to be out of them after a full day, much of which was spent on my
feet. I put on a clean pair of nylons, fastening them to my garter
belt. Then I opened the boot box and slid them on, zipping up the
inside zippers. They fit perfectly! I was so proud of myself. I just
prayed that Mistress would like them. Then I went ahead and took my
pills before returning to the living room.

"Very nice Brenda. You have good taste in footwear. I would have
preferred a higher heel, but I know how hard it is to find fashionable
boots with much more than a four inch heel."

"Yes Mistress, I think these are only a four inch heel, but like you
said, most stores do not carry anything much higher."

"Considering that you did not try them on, it looks like you got a good
fit."

"Yes Mistress. In men's shoes I was a size seven, so I just bought a
girl's size eight and hoped for the best. The really do fit nice. And
they are actually pretty comfortable for high heels Mistress."

"You like sexy high heels don't you Brenda."

"Yes Mistress, I love how they look on me or on you for that matter. My
feet get pretty sore sometimes, but I guess that is the price I must pay
for looking good."

"Yes Brenda. As you are learning, being a girl is considerably more
difficult than being a boy. It takes a lot of work and sacrifice to
look good; to look feminine. I am so very pleased to see you willing to
make those sacrifices. You are turning into a lovely feminine creature.
And a few months on your new meds will really take you to a new level."

"Yes Mistress. Thank you Mistress. Thank you for helping me in so many
ways."

"Believe me girl, it truly is my pleasure."

A week went by. I carefully took my medications in the required doses.
I suppose I was a little disappointed that nothing seemed to change. I
suppose the changes are so gradual that you barely notice them. I did
have a feeling of greater wellbeing. That had to be from the
tranquilizers. Things did not seem to upset me as much. I stopped
worrying about dressing as a girl; stopped worrying about being
discovered or exposed as a boy in girl's clothes. I was still getting
erections, but they did not seem as big or as frequent as before. In a
way I was relieved, as the urge to masturbate only happens after an
erection, so no erection meant no masturbating which meant Mistress
Marsha would be pleased.

It was nine days after my appointments that the package was delivered.
Actually there were three packages. The return address was that of
Metalwerkes. Mistress had instructed me to wait for her return home to
open them. When she arrived home that evening I placed the packages on
the living room floor. As Mistress sipped her glass of wine, I got
scissors and a knife and sat on the floor at her feet to open the boxes.
Prior to opening the packages Mistress had instructed me to remove my
clothes, so I sat naked wearing only the jewelry which pierced my body,
and a pair of high heels.

The first package contained a set of cuffs and a collar. There were
cuffs for both wrists and ankles. Each item was made of stainless
steel, lined in some rubbery material. The cuffs and collar were hinged
into two halves. Mistress helped me to put a cuff on my right wrist.
It fit snuggly but was not so tight as to restrict circulation. The
cuff was held in place with a small but very solid looking padlock.
With her help we put cuffs on both wrists and both ankles. Each cuff
had a "D" ring welded to it so that chains or other things could be
attached. There were several lengths of chain in the bottom of the
package. We connected the two ankle cuffs with a piece of chain about a
foot long. I got up and walked around the room. The chain jingled a
little. It was short enough that I could not take a full stride, and
was limited to taking short mincing steps.

Next Mistress told me to put my arms behind my back. Using another
padlock, she locked my two wrist cuffs together, so that I no longer had
use of my hands.

"Brenda. Get on your knees."

"Yes Mistress Marsha."

I carefully lowered myself to my knees facing her. She took the steel
collar. She slowly placed and closed it around my neck. "You belong to
me now Brenda. This collar symbolizes my ownership of you. Do you
accept my collar Brenda? Will you wear my collar for as long as it
pleases me?"

"Yes Mistress Marsha, I will wear your collar now and forever if that is
your wish."

"Good girl. Consider yourself collared." And with that I heard the
click of the padlock, securing the steel collar firmly around my neck.

The second package contained what Mistress described as a chastity bra.
It was of similar construction to the cuffs and collar; stainless steel
lined in rubber where it touches the skin. The bra had cone shaped
pressed steel cups which covered but did not actually touch my nipples.
The shoulder straps were made of a flat steel chain. The entire bra
locked on with a single padlock at the front center. It was horribly
uncomfortable compared to the fabric bras I had been wearing since
moving in with Marsha. But I could see how the design would prevent any
sexual stimulation of my breasts or nipples. So in that sense it could
properly be called a chastity bra.

The third and certainly the most formidable package contained my
chastity belt. The belt proper consisted of a steel waist band which
fit tightly around my mid section, and a shield which covered my boy
parts, connecting between my legs to the front and back of the belt.
Marsha closed the waist band first. There was a hole in one end of the
waist band which closed over a steel knob on the other end. The shield
was permanently fastened at the back of the waist band by a coated steel
cable which would lie between my butt cheeks. The cable attached to a
curved metal piece with a hole in the middle, centered over my anus.
The design would allow me to defecate while wearing the belt. More
toward the inside front of the shield was a small metal tube. My penis,
when pulled down between my legs, fit into this steel tube. At the base
of the tube was a slot. The steel ring of my Prince Albert piercing fit
through that slot. A small padlock secured the protruding part of the
piercing ring on the outside of the shield. The top of the front shield
fit over the steel knob which held the waist band closed. A very strong
looking padlock fit in a groove in the steel knob; holding both the
waist band and the shield in place.

When everything was closed and locked, my penis was held tightly in the
small steel tube, pulled down by the PA ring. There was no way that my
penis could slide out of that tube. There was no way I could get an
erection inside that tube.

"Try walking around a bit Brenda. Lets see how your belt fits and
feels."

"Yes Mistress."

I walked around the living room. While the belt fit snuggly, there was
no pinching or binding, and it was apparent that I could wear this
device and still manage to do my housework or other activities.
Satisfied with the fit, Marsha told me to return to where she was
seated. I was instructed to bend forward and spread my legs apart.
Still in the package was a solid Lucite cylinder about two inches in
diameter and seven or eight inches long; that is about the size of a
very well endowed male's penis when erect.

This Lucite cylinder fit through the fecal hole at the rear of the
shield. After Mistress lubricated the cylinder she forced the tip of
the cylinder up against my anus. With a little turning and pushing
Mistress forced the cylinder into my anus. I had never had anything
inside me before. I was aware of anal sexual practices but had no
personal experience with it. Slowly Mistress worked this plastic penis
back and forth, pushing it deeper inside me. Eventually the entire bulk
of this horrible invader filled my rectum. She then placed another
padlock at the rear, locking the cylinder in place.

Once more I was instructed to walk around and model my belt. From the
outside everything looked the same. But I had this horrid monstrosity
locked tightly into my asshole, stretching it painfully. With every
step the plastic cock moved a little. It was as if I was being fucked
with every step I took. Ironically, the friction of this anal invader
began to arouse me sexually. It felt sort of nice as it pressed against
my prostrate gland. I could feel the beginnings of an erection. But
that momentary anticipation of pleasure was soon quashed. As my dick
began to swell, the confines of the steel tube and the tightly locked PA
ring caused pain. It was not possible for my penis, which was bent down
between my legs, to ever point upward in an erection. Every attempt for
it to grow immediately manifested itself as pain.

What a horridly evil invention this was. I had this gigantic cock
trying to excite me by fucking away at my rear opening while even the
slightest bit of arousal led to pain in my penis. I tried to ignore the
thing in my rear, but that was impossible. If I stood very still most
of the stimulation stopped, but Mistress Marsha insisted I continue to
parade around her living room wearing nothing but this mass of steel and
padlocks and pierced jewelry and high heels. I knew it would be a very
long night.

I had not served Mistress Marsha since having my tongue modified nine
days prior. I could sense that she was becoming sexually aroused as she
watched me model this heavy steel bondage that she had purchased for me.
She stood momentarily and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to her
feet. She sat back down, spread her legs and said, "Come here Brenda.
It is time for us to try out your new tongue."

I approached and knelt between her legs. "Yes Mistress Marsha."

I spend the next hour locked in this steel bondage with my recently
studded tongue inside my Mistress. She pronounced my oral modifications
to be a great success and was particularly pleased with the way the
steel tongue studs stimulated her clitoris as well as the deeper
penetration which was now possible.

Throughout my evening of oral love making my own sexuality was being
pushed and pulled in opposite directions. The excitement of bringing my
Mistress to countless orgasms, plus the stimulation I was receiving from
the anal plug kept me on the edge of erection, but my cruel steel cock
prison prevented it. I was pulled between thoughts of pleasure and
feelings of pain as this chastity belt prevented my body from reacting
as it normally would in such an intense sexual atmosphere.

When Mistress Marsha was finally satisfied she dismissed me to prepare
her a sandwich as our sexual activities took up the time we would
normally have our evening meal. I was then sent to my room, still
wearing all the steel bondage. Physical exhaustion let me sleep, but it
was a restless night as I still had the anal plug filling my bottom and
was very aware of all the steel still securely locked to my body.

Over the next several months Mistress Marsha and I settled into our
routines. We both concluded that the chastity bra was impractical for
every day wear, and I was only required to wear it occasionally when
Mistress wanted to "play." Because I needed to be out in public to do
the grocery shopping and other necessary errands, the wrist and ankle
cuffs were also left at home and only worn on special occasions.

However, Mistress required me to wear my steel collar and chastity belt
at all times. The collar never came off. It has been locked around my
neck continuously since that first night. I wear turtle necks or high
collared blouses to cover my collar when in public. Mistress does
remove the chastity belt two or three times a week, but only briefly to
allow her to clean and shave my boy parts for hygienic reasons. Prior
to unlocking my chastity belt Mistress always cuffs my hands behind my
back. Thus, since the belt has arrived I have not once touched my
penis, nor masturbated, nor had sexual intercourse. I have become, for
all practical purposes, a eunuch.

The drug regimen prescribed by Doctor Meyers has slowly begun to take
effect. Due to the testosterone blocker, I no longer seem to have the
urge for erections, even when the belt is off and an erection would be
physically possible. I no longer even think much about that kind of sex
anymore. My thoughts tend more to those special times when Mistress
Marsha "fucks" me with the anal plug. While I do not have male orgasms,
I have learned to appreciate the nice feeling I get from being filled
inside. I suppose it is more of a girl feeling, but having that hard
plastic cock forced up my anus has gone from being a brutal invasion to
being something I actually look forward to.

Perhaps the most exciting physical changes have come from the estrogen I
have been taking. There seems to be a redistribution of fat on my body.
My butt has gotten fuller, my waist actually a little smaller, and my
breasts are starting to grow! My body is reshaping itself toward a more
feminine form, and emotionally I am happy about that.

I now know that I never really was very happy being a boy. My scrawny
body certainly was not admirable for a male. I really feel that I make
a much better girl than I ever did a boy. My height, my weight, even my
shoe size were all so "below average" for a boy, but seem just right now
that I am becoming more of a girl with each passing day.

I have gotten more comfortable in public. I "pass" as a girl now. I
honestly like being Mistress Marsha's maid and doing all the things a
traditional housewife would do. I do wish sometimes that my
relationship with Mistress was one of more equality. I would much
rather she viewed me as her "wife" than as her maid. But I understand
her dominant personality and her need to be in total control. And I
suppose that my own submissive nature compliments her in many respects.

Doctor Meyers tells me that when I have lived full time as a girl for
one year, I will meet the criteria for gender reassignment. At that
time, I will be castrated and my penis reformed into a vagina. While it
will be necessary for me to continue taking female hormones since my
body will never make its own, once the surgery is complete I will both
legally and physically be a real girl. I will stay with Mistress Marsha
for as long as she will have me. I know now that my role in life is to
serve others, and that my own sexual pleasures should continue to be
denied. I make a much better maid than I ever would a bookkeeper. I
make a much better girl than I ever would a boy. I make a much better
slave than I ever would a Mistress. I have found my place in life, and
I am happy.

THE END

By Judith Gold