Part 16

As Tracy re-immersed herself in the scene, her relationship with Bill continued and, at least while they were together, continued to strengthen. But when they were apart, she struggled with several discordant feelings and emotions. She was increasingly troubled by not having told Bill that she had again become a practicing dominatrix. She didn’t know how to broach the topic with him, and worried that her secret would eventually destroy what they had between them. And what they had between them was more precious than anything.

She felt no guilt at all over having slept with Candi-Floss and taken her as her personal submissive. The slut should have known better and deserved what she got. Besides, the perverted little bitch liked it. And Tracy honesty thought that Bill would approve of what she had done. That is, once she confessed that she had returned to her prior life, once he had forgiven her deception, and once he had.accepted it as part of their relationship, of course.

She was also bothered by how much she had thought about having submitted to him. Sexually bothered. The being “sexually bothered” was even present while she was doing a session with a sub, any sub. She found herself increasingly imagining how she would feel if someone had been doing to a submissive her what she was doing to the sub. Even outside of sessions, she found herself having panty-dampening daydreams of submission. She didn’t want that—not at all! Or did she?

What sexually bothered her most, though, was her personal dominatrix fantasy. She wanted her own sissy. Her perfect sissy, seduced, moulded and trained in all the ways she had imagined—reduced to helplessness and obedience. And she wanted that sissy to be Bill! This desire consumed her with an unshakable guilt.

Her struggle with these feelings and emotions started affecting her more and more. She eventually sought advice from a friend of hers in the scene. He was a couple of years older than she, and while he had been a practicing domme, almost legendary, having had every bit of the regard within the scene as Tracy, he now spent most of his energies working out elaborate cuckholding scenarios and executing on his plans. He was a “Bull,” in the parlance of the scene.

He was an amazing physical specimen. His good looks, physique and massive cock (which Tracy had actually seen in person) made him almost irresistible to the poor sluts whose husbands or partners pushed the cuck fantasy on them. He and Tracy had many a drink over stories of his successes. She was impressed by him, and more impressed by his cock. She had even occasionally considered taking a ride on it herself, but something inside her told her that was a path down which she dare not venture.

The domme had made it clear to Tracy that he would be happy to fuck her anytime and anywhere.

They met for a drink at an upscale restaurant near her studio. He complimented Tracy on her return to the scene and welcomed her back.

She explained her dilemma, including her having submitted to Bill, but leaving out having conflicting feelings about being submissive. Whether she unintentionally communicated that interest, or the thought of taking her as a submissive occurred to him independently, he well understood that as a possibility—so much so that his cock swelled distractedly at the thought. Submissive to him, of course.

“A very interesting situation indeed,” he thinks.

For the moment, he attempts to set aside his conflicting interests, and genuinely tries to provide good advice. He reasons that Bill knows she’s a dominatrix, whether practicing or not. He loves her for her, so if that love is true, then, as long as she doesn’t get emotionally involved with another, and she honors that line drawn, he should probably come around to accepting her being active again. Who knows, he may even get off on the whole thing. But an admission and an apology were in order.

Tracy agreed.

He cautioned her on having slept with Candi-Floss, but also thought that the means were likely justified. She did have it coming. And Bill may even come to enjoy having the slut around. The domme made a mental note to visit that gentleman’s club.

The hardest issue to reason through was her personal fantasy, particularly as it related to Bill. If Bill had in fact moved on from that, then she needed to respect his choice. He did ask a few questions about Bill’s behavior during the session, though.

“I dunno, Tracy. Very few men who are sexually drawn to the sissy thing can ever truly give it up. Much like you couldn’t give up being a dominatrix. It drew you back. And from what you told me, I would wager that his inner sissy is very much alive and well. So I think you have to be patient. Watch for signs. And if you see him needing to go in that direction again, you reassess. But until then, you shouldn’t try to take him there.”

Tracy thinks this is good advice, and they continue to talk about other things, catching up. When they part, she thanks him by picking up the tab.

As for her friend, he leaves the meeting quite aroused, thinking that, if he plays his cards right, there may be a real treat for him in all this. He makes his way directly to the closest sissy cuck’s house to blow off some steam and to ram his cock into the cuck’s wife.

Part 17

During this period, Bill found himself struggling as well—with his sissy demons. He had loved every minute of his and Tracy’s session. She was the perfect dominant. His dream dominant. But he loved her. Loved everything about her. Loved being her lover.

He started giving into it slowly. First. He bought a few pairs of panties on the Internet. Then a couple of bras. A lot of new sissy fiction had been added since he had last delved into this—he read as much as he could find, and revisited old favorites. And he found himself shopping for, but not yet buying, outfits, shoes and makeup that he might want to try. While he occasionally weakened and gave in, he was proud of how well he had been able to resist temptation. But as Tracy’s domme friend had concluded, but not fully let on, the urges were still there. And Tracy’s friend also knew that the urges would only get stronger and stronger, particularly once Tracy confessed to having become active again.

Bill was terrified of weakening and giving into it completely, even with her. Tracy had made it clear that there were certain requisites for a sissy under her control. No body hair would be permitted, feminine dress, makeup and perfume would be obligatory, and chastity would be enforced, and there would likely be other intrusions upon his person. And unlike in his pre-Tracy experience, all of it would be real. And there might be no going back.

Other forces were at work as well.

As was his thing, Tracy’s domme friend had developed a strategy for enslaving Tracy and cuckholding Bill, and started laying the foundation, or setting the trap, he would use once Bill found himself enveloped in Tracy’s femme fantasy. When that might happen would be dependent on an unsuspecting Bill, and it may not happen at all. Still, for the domme, it was a fun and thrilling exercise. And he was more than cautiously optimistic.

His first step was to make Tracy more sexually interested in him —using all his charms, and even his cock. He stopped by the gentlemen’s club to check out her “Candi-Floss.” “Nice work, Tracy, “ he thought, after meeting her. After a few minutes with her in the men’s room, he thought “Damn nice work, Tracy.” In the process, he learned from the girl the exact location of the studio and when the girls would next be there.

So, a few days later, he dropped by the studio while they were getting ready for a session. Tracy looked magnificent, and “Pusscakes,” in her assistant’s dress, looked delightful as well.

Tracy welcomed him in. They exchanged polite kisses on the cheek.

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced, but I went by the Club the other day and your slut (casting a glance at Candi-Floss) said you might be here this afternoon. I wanted to check it out.”

“Not at all. Glad you came by. Care for a tour? We have about a 45 minutes before our ‘company’ arrives.”

“Absolutely.”

They talk as they walk.

“So Tracy, have there been any developments? Have you told him yet?”

“No, not yet. We’re meeting in Austin for a music festival in two weeks. I’m planning on telling him then.”

This is good news to the domme, he feels his cock starting to get hard.

“Good luck on that. Just let me know if you want to talk about it more. Love the place, by the way. And awesome job with the girl! While I was visiting her at the club she, well, you know, was quite gracious.”

“So I’ve heard.” (Chuckling.) “Gracious to everyone with a dick, it would appear.”

“Again, well done. Say, as long as I’m here (looking over to Candi-Floss) would you mind if she … ?”

“No. Not at all. By all means.”

“Come here Pusscakes. The nice man has something for you!”

“Mistress. Yes Mistress.”

“Tracy, I think you should watch this. She’s really good!”

“If you insist.”

Candi-Floss, knowing what’s expected of her, kneels and unzips his fly, withdrawing his large cock.

The domme wants Tracy to see his cock—basically “baiting” her with it. It has the intended effect.

Tracy watches Pusscake’s submissive act, and finds herself starting to lubricate. “What a nice cock,” she thinks. She imagines being on her knees with thing in her mouth.

The guy watches Tracy’s reaction, and he pulls his cock out of the girl’s mouth just as he climaxes—squirting gobs of cum all over the girls face.

Tracy stifles an aroused gasp. The domme smiles to himself. This was not lost on Tracy. Not in the least.

Part 18

The two weeks passed quickly. Bill and Tracy planned their flights so that they could meet at the Austin–Bergstrom airport and ride together to the hotel. They were naked in bed very soon after checking in.

It had been several weeks since they had been together–longer than the usual separation. And they were glad to be back in each other’s arms. Very very glad.

Tracy had decided to wait until the morning to share her secret.

They decided to find something to eat at the festival. The weather was perfect, and the several bands they saw were great. Post-concerts they found themselves at Antoine’s two-stepping until the early hours of the morning.

They collapsed into to the bed as soon as they got back to the room.

Tracy awakened with Bill’s arm around her and something hard sticking her in the lower back. After wake-up sex and over a pot of room service coffee, it was time for their talk.

“Bill, honey, I need to tell you something. Something I’ve been meaning to to tell you for a while, but just didn’t know how. And I need to apologize too.””

This gets Bill’s attention. He sits up in bed.

She takes his hand.

“You remember your birthday weekend, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. How could I forget? It was wonderful.”

“You remember that I played Mistress to you after I caught you dressed up in those clothes, right?”

Bill is unsure where this is going.

“Yes. I remember that too.”

“And you remember that I had given up being a dominatrix quite a while back?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I kinda sorta fell off the wagon.”

“Fell off the wagon?”

“Yes. I’m doing the domme thing again. Please don’t be mad. And I’m so sorry. That time with you just brought to the surface something that I had tried to bury. And I couldn’t keep it buried. I hope that somehow you can forgive me.”

Bill smiles.

“Is that all?”

“There’s a little more to it, maybe a lot even, but that’s basically it.”

Bill is relieved.

“Thank god it’s only that. There for a minute I thought you were breaking up with me.”

“Breaking up with you? Never! I love you and want to be with you always. But wait, you’re not mad?”

“No. I’m not mad. But you do need to come clean on it all. I need to know everything my ‘bad girl’ girlfriend has been up to.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“Early on in our relationship I thought through the ‘what ifs,’ your history and mine. Given how I feel about you, I got comfortable with the possibility that you might relapse. I, of all people, know the strength of the pull that stuff can exert. Just tell me one thing, is there someone else?”

“No. Absolutely not. There’s just such an erotic thrill that goes with it. I’m addicted to the thrill, that’s all.”

“Good. I get it. Now I want to hear everything.”

Part 19

Tracy shared everything—even with respect to the girlfriend, but not about her personal fantasies. She shared how the girlfriend was the one who collared her, put on the nipple clamps and weights and gagged her, as well as the girlfriend’s later betrayal and submission. Bill was most interested in the submission part.

“She’s, like, your slave girl?”

“And a complete slut.”

“Wow. That I gotta see!”

Tracy notices his dick getting hard, but opts not to make an issue of it. He’s been so sweet.

Disaster avoided!

Tracy and Bill shower, dress and head out for the day.

They fly out Sunday to their respective places.

Later in the week, after work, Tracy is at the studio and her domme friend drops by.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I was in the neighborhood.”

This was a total lie. She is suspicious.

“No problem. Just getting ready and cleaning up for something tomorrow.”

“You know, someone like you really should have a maid to do these things.”

“I know. Candi-Floss is a great help with the sessions, but her poor mind is so sex-addled that she isn’t much good at cleaning, and I end up doing most of it myself.”

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

(Sheepishly.). “Is, er, Candi-Floss here?”

“What? Yes, she’s in the back. Why do you …?”

“You fucking turd!” (Laughing.) “ Go on back. You’re such a guy!.”

“What can I say? I am what I am. I’ll be right back.”

“You want to watch again?”

“Well, maybe one more time. And don’t get it in her hair. She just got it done and is working tonight.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

The scene from earlier is largely repeated. Tracy is transfixed by his cock. Her arousal is less than subtle—her friend can tell.

“This is going perfectly,” he thinks.

On his way out he casually asks how it went with Bill.

“Amazingly well, in fact. He had actually already imagined that it might happen and basically laughed at me. He did show an interest in Candi-Floss, though. I think I might let him watch her do her thing sometime. But no blow jobs from her for him. His cock is only for me”

“God. You’re both sluts!”

“You’re one to talk!”

“I guess. Thank Candi-Floss for me!”

“Get out of here! Bye.”

“I’ll be back!”

“Shoo shoo!”

“Oh, I almost forgot. A while back you expressed an interest in learning Gorean training and Shibari. You still interested?”

“I might be. But there is no way in hell I’m letting you tie me up.”

“No worries there. We can tie the slut up. But would love to teach both to you.”

“I’ll think about it. Now go!”

He smiles as he leaves.

Part 20

A day or so later Tracy is at her “real” office and starts thinking about the domme’s offer. She viewed both the Gorean training and the Shibari as being things that were primarily visited upon female subs, but thought it would be good to branch out and continue to develop her skills. She was certain that at least some of the knowledge would be useful for male or sissy training as well, and she did have several submissive females among her regulars. So she texted the domme. and they agreed to weekly training classes. Candi-Floss might not like it, but that was too bad for her. The domme gave Tracy a couple of how to Shibari instructional books to study, and suggested that Tracy might want to reacquaint herself with the books of Gor as well.

At the appointed day and time, they, Tracy, the domme and Candi-Floss, met at her studio for the first class. Candi-Floss, the ever-obedient subject, was made to strip, and the domme methodically wrapped and knotted her with a perfect “shrimp” tie.

He explains—

“The tying is just part of the fun. Watching them after they are tied is even better. Some of the ties are pretty easy for the bound person at first, but get progressively difficult as time passes. You’ll see.”

While Candi-Floss is uncomfortably wondering how she got herself into this, he starts talking to Tracy about the Gorean part. He explains that the “kajira” positions, for female slaves, are ritualistic, and an aspect of a mental slavery. They will eventually affect the slave psychologically, making her feel both sexually desirable and vulnerable at the same time. There are many named positions, and for many of them the slave is required to submissively assume and maintain the positions upon hand gestures or command. The best way to learn the positions is to actually practice them as they are taught.

“We’ll go over a few of the basic ones tonight. Is that okay?

That’s fine with Tracy. She is wearing her black yoga pants and top—she makes it clear that she will be staying dressed. He’s fine with that.

The domme is wearing workout clothes—shorts and a tee shirt. He picked the shorts intentionally because of how they fit in the front. They emphasize his cock and balls, making them hard not to notice—particularly for a kneeling person whose head is at crotch level. The prominence in his shorts of his cock and balls doesn’t register with Tracy. At least not at first.

He strarts with a frw basic positions—Nadu, Tower Slave, Leisha. and Obeisance—all performed and practiced at his feet. It doesn’t take long for Tracy to become acutely aware of a shifting of power away from her and to him. She tries to mentally resist at first, but while she is holding the Nadu position he moves to adjust her position slightly—as he does this his crotch comes within inches of her face. And he is noticeably aroused. She wonders if she should be able to smell it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she thinks! She cannot move—captured by both her mind and the position. By the time he introduces hand gestures to go with the positions she is fully aroused, aching between her legs, and fully obedient. She wants to stop obeying, but cannot.

He had been half worried that Tracy would see through this part of his little plan, or would be suspicious of it, and would pass on his “training” offer. But he had presented it almost casually and she had innocently accepted and gone along with it. And now, for her, it was too late. He has her.

Part 13

“Billie, dear. You know there is only one place this can go, at least for today. Now put your hands behind your back.”

Bill hesitates, still wanting to hide and trying to figure a way to escape this.

“I mean now—do it! And I’m not going to tell you again.”

He reluctantly complies.

“But Tracy … .”

The wrist cuffs click. She’s got him!

A thrilling wave of arousal rises up within her. What a rush! “God, I’ve missed this!” she thinks.

To say that this makes Bill feel uneasy is an understatement. Tracy decides to play the part. It may help him think twice before dressing up like a girl again. Though, she does admit that he looks, in that outfit, quite the part. Perfect, in fact. His ass looks delectable in those panties.

This will be fun!

“Um, Tracy, we need to talk, this is some kind of misunderstanding!”

Almost instinctively, she takes control—

“No, Billie, I don’t think we do. Everything is quite clear. And I do believe that you’ve forgotten your etiquette. Sissy girls only speak when spoken to. And, when you do speak, I expect to hear a ‘Mistress’ or ‘ma’am’ before and after your sentences. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am. But ….””

“I’m sorry?”

“Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

“Much better. Good girl. Now where were we? Oh yes.”

“I must say this is quite a familiar scene for this room. But the tables do seem to be turned, don’t they?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She returns an expectant piercing stare, raising one eyebrow. He corrects himself—

“I mean, ‘Ma’am. Yes, ma’am’.”

Looking, very intensely, into his eyes and touching his cheek—”I will let that go for now. But know that you will soon learn to show proper respect (looking around the room). I dare say we have many ‘training aids’ at our disposal here.”

Bill swallows hard. Dread sets in.

Tracy steps back to survey the scene.

“Let’s see, what’s missing?”

“Of course, cuffs and collar, and the binding chains.”

It takes all of 30 seconds for Bill to be collared, leg cuffed and chained to the floor as she had been just three mornings before. “Mercilessly quick indeed,” she thinks as she smiles to herself.

Bill is now seriously wondering what he has gotten himself into. But how does he really feel about this? His dick betrays him.

Tracy spies his erection and takes hold of it through the panties. She squeezes it less than gently.

“We do need to do something about your nasty little thing here.” But what? Her male chastity toys were still packed away.. She looks around—and picking up a leather lace—“This will do just fine.”

She pulls his panties down, and binds him tightly down below—separating his balls and crisscrossing his penis, and ties it all up with a neat bow. She pulls the panties back up.

“There. That will do!”

“Most sissies don’t mind this at first, but as time passes the constriction does tend to get painfully difficult. But it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.”

She continues about her work.

“I do remember that you were particularly interested in nipples, weights and clamps, weren’t you? Well, isn’t that a coincidence? So am I!”

“Tracy, no, please?”

She starts to slap his face, but her hand stops just short.

“I’m sorry, young lady, you must not have understood—or you have already forgotten your manners. Either way, we don’t speak to our Mistress like that..”

She looks through her gear.

“I do believe that a gag might just help with your memory.” (Picking up a leather tongue-gag harness.)

“Tracy, no ….”

But it’s too late.

This is her favorite gag. One of her ‘special’ toys. The gag part actually inserts into the mouth more deeply than most, and holds the back of the tongue down very effectively. If a sub fights the gag too much it causes the sub to retch. The subs learn not to fight it very quickly. Such a simple yet devious little thing! She is so glad that “friend” of hers didn’t pick this one to use on her!

Bill is not so lucky.

She tightens the straps. Bill tries to move his tongue, but cannot. He feels like his mouth is being violated—he wants out! But his cock throbs.

“Now there, where was I before being so rudely interrupted?”

She picks up a pair of Japanese clover clamps.

“We’ll start with these.”

She lowers his dress, and places one behind each nipple.

“And I think these were the weights. Yes.” She clips one on each side, and pulls the top of the dress back up. She cups his breasts. He winces.

“That’s a good beginning.”

Bill is now more or less just as restrained as Tracy had been on Friday morning. She decides to twist the knife a little.

“Sissy Billie, should I be offended at your effort here? What kind of sissy doesn’t put on makeup when presenting herself to her mistress? Only a disrespectful one, I think. And those hairy legs and your other body hair? I mean, armpit hair, really? And those panties are soiled. I do smell perfume, though, but is it yours? What am I to think?”

“You do understand that this errant behavior will eventually, through proper training, be corrected.”

“Oh shit!” thinks Bill.

Bill, unable to speak, and completely off balance, has no choice but to nod that he understands. He worries that this may be the way it’s going to be from now on.

“I am going to change into something more ‘appropriate,’ so I am going to leave you for a bit.” She picks up the blindfold from the other day, and slides it over his eyes.

“I’ll be back.”

And smiling—

“Oh, and don’t go anywhere!”

She leaves the room.

Part 14

Bill waits for what seems like an eternity while Tracy changes, the nipple weights swaying with every movement. In the bedroom, Tracy is debating what to wear. Her rubber clothes are in storage—but for that she would know the perfect outfit. “Maybe next time, if there is a next time,” she thinks.

She throbs between the legs.

Tracy settles on full domme leather. This is in essence a free pass back to her prior life, so why not go all out? Leather over-bust corset with suspender straps. Black opaque stockings under black thigh-high lace-up high-heeled boots. Black elbow-length kidskin gloves, and her favorite black leather policeman’s cap. And she knows exactly what makeup to wear—complete with blood red lipstick. She pulls her hair back in a severe bun.

She struggles over the choice of a panty. Should she deny him the view of her ass and sex, or go without? Since they’re lovers, going without might be appropriate. But today, she is a dominatrix, and he is a submissive, and a sissy submissive at that, so her sex should be covered. She decides on a black thong. It can always be pulled down, if needed, and she’ll still be able to use her ass to tempt him. A very good choice.

Bill waits in silence and takes stock of the situation. Tracy is a real dominatrix, not a pretend one. She is doing this by her own volition, not just to play out a perverse fantasy he imagined and forced upon her. She will be good at this. Very good. She will be playing her game, not his. And he is bound and helpless.

The quiet is broken by the clicking of heels on the parquet floor of the hallway. Bill shivers at the sound. The clicking turns to quiet as she reaches the carpeted floor of the playroom. She selects her favorite crop, nicely whippy, from among the gear.

“Still here, I see.””

She takes off Bill’s blindfold.

She looks amazing! The epitome of sex—a dark forbidden type of sex. As his member reacts he starts to feel the longer-term effects of the lace by which it is bound. Only mildly painful now, but the frustrated arousal is increasing in intensity.

She circles him, holding the crop rather menacingly, occasionally striking out at an unprotected piece of flesh.

“Shall we begin?”

Tracy is of two minds here. She would very much like to flex her sexual muscle and make Bill know exactly how powerful she is, as she would have with any sub. This isn’t just any sub, though. It’s Bill. Her Bill. So this is new territory.

She thinks back to her prior experiences. Bill is only at the beginning of the enticement. Not fully immersed by any measure. The makeup is missing. And all that body hair? Nice on a guy, but unacceptable for a sissy. And chastity? Not even close to being managed. Those would be the next steps, but they wouldn’t happen today. Then, there’s her personal fantasy. After the male is fully immersed in the enticement, then, in her fantasy, the enslavement, to her and to femininity, and all that goes with it, would follow. He would be helpless to resist.

But this is Bill, and probably a one-time thing. So, for today, maybe just enough to make him respect and, maybe a little, fear, her power. At the same time she could have a little fun. After all, he did practically serve himself up to her on a platter.

Most importantly, it must come across as real.

Tracy takes Bill through his paces. She tries a few things she had thought about but never tried before, but always wanted to, and likes their effects. And she uses every opportunity to verbally shape their interactions—mind fucking him. Ninety percent of the domination is mental—much more effective than the pain and restraint. But, for the most part, she holds back.

Tracy laughed to herself at having caught him like this—a classic scene right out of transgender fiction, except even better. She probably should have expected that the uniform would be irresistible to him, and his putting it on maybe should have been expected. But she doesn’t let on.

Her favorite part of their “session” was toward the end when she decided to let him experience a proper hogtie. His effort in this regard, his method, which had been visited upon her, actually had some merit to it. He had worked that out all by himself. My, he has a perverted little mind! But she was going to do it better. Much better! She placed his arms in a leather monoglove—held on by straps across his shoulders, and bound him at the ankles. The monoglove was loosely tied, at first.

She made him lie on his stomach, which focused all of his weight on his tied up cock and balls—-the discomfort there having gone well beyond subtle. Using a leather strap, she drew his ankles to the ring at the end of the glove. And she blindfolded him.

She then sat and watched.

His cock and balls, on which most of his weight was focused, hurt desperately. He found himself trying to reposition his arms and legs—trying to ease the stiffness and discomfort, finding only minimal relief. And he felt every movement between his legs.

She picks her time.

She tightens the laces on the glove, fully immobilizing his arms. Next, she loops belts just above his elbows and knees, and cinches them tight. Finally, she tightens the belt connecting the glove to his ankles, taking out all of the slack. Bill’s weight is even more focused on his bound genitals.

She sits again.

She knows that the hogtie will soon begin getting quite severe, so she starts with the final act—

“If you could tell me, and I know you would, if you could, what kind of sissy sticks her fingers up her mistress’s ass without permission? I will tell you—a very very naughty sissy. And who penetrated my ass with her fingers the other day, without permission? I will tell you. You did. So what does that make you? A very very naughty sissy. And what happens to very very naughty sissies? They get punished, of course.”

At this.Bill vigorously shakes his head “No,” as if this isn’t punishment enough.

“Mistress is going to be kind to her sissy, this time. Does sissy remember the ‘Golden Rule’? Well, I am going to do unto you what you did unto me! With one small difference, though. When it comes to punishing a submissive by violating their ass, I know exactly what I am doing. And you WILL know that you have been violated!”

Tracy had already decided to let Bill’s ass off easy, but she had to appear to follow through on her threat. So she stretched and penetrated with her fingers, and used only a small dildo to take his girlhood. Her objective was not to inflict pain, but shame and humiliation. And when he started meeting the thrusts of the dildo in his ass, she knew she had him. And she did. And she let him know it.

But his ass looked so delicious, she just couldn’t resist taking it just a little farther. She released his legs from their bindings, brought him to his feet and clipped a leash to his collar, and led the blindfolded Bill into another room. He quickly found himself bound face down over the back of a chair.

“Don’t move, darling!”

She returns to her gear, and selects her strap-on harness and a dildo. The dildo is her very prized dildo. Not just because of its girth and length, on the penetrating end, but because of what’s on her end. The part that’s inside of the holding ring features a short, textured and graduated plug designed to penetrate the wearer’s vagina,, together with a nubbly grope-suit like pad that encircles and envelopes the wearer’s clitoris and labia. Tracy hadn’t used it in years, but if ever there was a time to return it to service this was it. Because if it’s size, Bill might find it a little unpleasant (well, maybe a lot unpleasant), but it would be worth it!

She finds a bottle of lube, then steps into, and adjusts, the harness.

Just wearing it feels amazing.

She returns to Bill.

Bill’s ass had already been somewhat prepared, but he wasn’t ready for the slippery tip of Tracy’s cock at his partially stretched opening when she started to slide it between his cheeks.

“Umph, nggg, umph, nnnnnn … .”.

“Shush, my sweet, this is for me!”

It is painful upon penetration, and she eases it in, bit by bit. Once it is fully in, she gives him a few moments to relax. Then she starts with the movement—in and out—gently at first. Then building a rhythm. Her first orgasm comes shortly after starting, but because of the design of the implement she only goes down a little from the first peak. The stronger, second orgasm, soon follows. Again, she only goes down a little before rising to the peak of an even stronger orgasm. She loses count of how many times this pattern repeats, and eventually, as she feels Bill orgasming and spasming from the stimulation, she climaxes with the most earth-shattering and mind-blowing orgasm she has ever experienced.

Part 15

After Bill has been released, which cost him many worshipping kisses on Tracy’s boots and ass, and they have recovered from their exertions, they take a long hot shower together, followed by a nap in the bed. They tenderly hold each other until it is time for Bill to get ready to go.

Tracy is driving Bill to the airport, and on their way, they talk about when they are going to next get together and what they are going to do, all as if nothing had changed.

Bill had gotten his fill of the sissy thing, at least for now. As soon as he had climaxed, shame and guilt set in and he had been eager to take off the sissy clothes and scrub all evidence of it from his body. And other than a tenderness in his backside all evidence was gone after the shower.

Tracy welcomed the shower as well. She had never been so completely sexually satisfied in her life. But for her, the last orgasm had awakened an old appetite. She felt the first indication of this as she was driving home from the airport replaying the session, thinking how cute Bill looked in that outfit and how helpless and submissive he had been. She had to change into a dry panty before bed.

Their relationship continued, and grew stronger. Different places, some far off, and new shared experiences. But not back to her city and her apartment. They never talked about what had happened over the birthday weekend—neither had felt the need to. Bill had again sworn off the sissy thing. Tracy had sworn off being dominant to Bill. But the dominatrix in her had been awakened, and was stronger and more present than ever.

She had never fully disassociated herself from the scene, and in her city the scene, almost exclusively underground, flourished. She slowly drifted back to it—even did a session or two.

Word of her coming out of retirement quickly spread and soon she was very much in demand—doing a couple of paying sessions a week in a rented play space. She didn’t need the money, and only took it out of a belief that it in some way humiliated, and contributed towards the degradation of, her subjects. But now, it was different than before. She did to and with them what she pleased, and not what they would have asked for. If they didn’t like it, there were others who would.

Her girlfriend welcomed her return, and together they bounced thoughts about their craft off each other. Tracy hadn’t forgotten or forgiven her for the “finishing touches” she had made when the girl was helping her prepare for Bill’s birthday, but had decided to let it go. At least until … .

Through someone else in the scene Tracy found out that her girlfriend had been bragging to others about what she had done to the always dominant Tracy, and that Tracy had bottomed to Bill. Tracy found this to be a betrayal of their friendship, a violation of some unwritten code, and intolerably disrespectful. Something had to be done.

Tracy decided that she would seduce the girl into a very public, at least within the scene, and humiliating, submission. The girl would learn respect. And the girl would become Tracy’s very personal submissive.

Tracy’s first move was to come on to the girl, to get her into bed, with Tracy the aggressor. After they had slept together several times, Tracy offered to do a session with the girl, with Tracy the dominant. The girl accepted. The girl offered to reciprocate, but Tracy firmly refused. And a second session followed, with Tracy clearly taking the upper hand. And so it went.

It didn’t take Tracy long to fully bring her once domme girlfriend to heel. The girl was easy. Tracy knew she could have her that day when they were unpacking toys in the playroom. The look in her eyes said it all.

“Candi-Floss,” as Tracy had nicknamed her, was now the epitome of the character from the old Albion comics. Extremely big breasted, courtesy of enhancement surgery “suggested” by Tracy, she was required to dress at all times in Tracy’s presence, unless Tracy otherwise directed, in a short white full-collared dress and matching panties, with a light blue or pink bow tie, sash and stockings. And always a wide-brimmed hat, with a matching ribbon, and high heels. For fun, and to further repay the girl for her betrayal, Tracy had a tramp stamp that read “Pusscakes” tattooed in script across the small of the girl’s back.

The girl was of course pierced in Tracy’s preferred fashion. Ears, tongue (Tracy’s favorite tongue ball), septum, nipples, and belly button. The girl’s labia and clitoris had also been pierced to support a permanent chastity shield. Only her ass could be penetrated, but Tracy made it more than clear that the girl’s ass could only be used by Tracy or with Tracy’s permission.

But when it came to the girl, that was not what Tracy was most proud of. From Tracy’s careful and methodical training, prolonged sexual denial and a not insignificant amount of hypnosis therapy, the girl had been turned into a ravenous slut. So much so that Tracy had to find her employment at a nearby gentlemen’s club, as an outlet, at which she administered, between dances, countless handjobs and blowjobs to the very appreciative clientele.

And she was always eager to pleasure Tracy.

The girl, when she wasn’t working at the club, now assisted Tracy when Tracy did sessions—the sessions now being held at the girl’s former play space—now Tracy’s “studio.” For the sessions, Tracy made the girl trade her white dress and panties for black, her stockings and shoes were black, and the ribbons and accents were all red. They looked quite the pair.

Bill was unaware of any of this.

Part 9

Being rendered helpless, particularly as completely as it had been done (by her own hand, with a little help from her friend), was a completely new experience for Tracy. She had expected her arousal to lessen once her friend left, but that didn’t happen. In fact, she had now been wearing the chastity belt for several hours, and it was doing its work on her–constantly holding and squeezing her genitals. She was very aware of her arousal and sexual frustration building and building. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Making matters worse were the gag and the weights on her nipples.

She had gagged many a submissive, and had even worn one herself for short periods, but never long enough to experience the psychological effects that being gagged can cause. It started as a feeling of alarm, her mouth being held open—jaws forced apart. She desperately wanted it out—but it was locked on and her hands were useless. And her tongue piercing just made matters worse. The alarm and panic soon melded into a helplessness, and finally an uncomfortable capitulation—she gave in to the unpleasantness of being gagged. Bound as she was, she was at its mercy.

And her nipples were on fire—it felt like her weighted piercings were tearing them from her chest. While the reality was that the weights were doing no damage, the pain and anxiety were very real. With every shift of her weight, they swung. Even when she breathed, they moved. There was no choice but to accept the pain, and to avoid moving as much as possible.

It was then that something interesting started to happen. Something that had never happened to her before. Tracy started helplessly drifting into something akin to subspace. And with this, she found her arousal accelerating.

“Please no, I don’t want this!” She thought. But something inside her did. Wanted it very much, in fact.

She cursed herself for having put herself in this predicament. Her arousal deepened.

She thought about her situation, and caught a glimpse at the gear on display around her. Oh hell! Why hadn’t she have been more careful? She throbbed beneath her belt as she realized that she might have to submit to any or all of the instruments she had put out for Bill.

She had unwittingly crafted the perfect trap for herself.

Part 10

When Bill returned to the apartment he called out for Tracy to let her know he was back. There was no answer. “That’s odd,” he thought. She must have stepped out.

He found the envelope on the table in the foyer, addressed to “Birthday Boy,” opened it and read the note. Parts of the note were cryptic, particularly about the keys, but he understood it well enough to know that she was asking him to put on his black robe and boxers and go to the back room. Easy enough.

“She must have something planned.”

He dressed as directed. When he opens the door to the room to find his “second” present, he is both astonished and surprised. It takes only a few short moments for a huge smile to form on his face.

Before him stands a real live fetish model, a sissy fetish model, restrained for his pleasure. He had never imagined such a thing.

“Tracy, is that you?”

She nods, feeling actual shame, and involuntarily projecting submissiveness.

“I’ve seen that dress before and know where it came from. Wow! How did you know? I mean, I never told you.”

She shrugs an “I don’t know.”

“I need to get a better look.”

He moves in closer and starts inspecting his gift.

She was right! He was into feminization. She knew right then that her darling Bill was, or at least had been, a sissy. So the Plan worked. Yea Tracy! But she was still dressed, bound and gagged. The Plan hadn’t fully taken that into consideration.

Bill seemed to be enjoying his treat. He circled behind her, noting her locked-on shoes, the lovely stockings and cuffs. Her panties and garter straps could be seen—the petticoated skirt high in the back. And he spied through the fabric of her panties the metal chains connecting between her legs, and, wait, a pink-jeweled plug buried in her lovely ass. My oh my!

Bill’s silence makes Tracy ever more nervous with worry. Though putting on a good face, she is dying inside and throbbing down below. She is afraid of what he might do to her, intensely aroused by the thought of it, and wondering how she could be feeling this way.

Bill is intrigued by the chastity chains, and reaches out to touch them. The touch of his hand fills Tracy with erotic shivers. His hand follows the chains to the shield.

“Is this what I think it is?” (Looking to her eyes.)

She nods meekly.

His other hand reaches around her waist and strokes down her front, first finding the waist belt and then the shields. He explores the shields with his fingers, finding that her panties are quite moist, drenched, in fact, his fingers now covered by a slippery wetness.

“Can you feel this? Down there?”

She shakes her head “no.” “Unfortunately,” she thinks.

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

He touches and explores it more.

“Still nothing?”

Again “no.”

He looks at his hand and rubs his thumb against the wetness on his fingers—

“Looks like something down there is excited. Very excited.”

Tracy starts to wish it wasn’t true, but then again, … .

“I wonder what other surprises we have?”

He examines the gag.

“I see this is locked on. Keys in the foyer?”

A nod “yes.”

“I like that.”

She shivers again, still not knowing where this is going.

He caresses her ass, finding and touching the jeweled end of the plug. The plug wiggles in response, and the internal movement unexpectedly causes almost an electric sensation back there. She wonders what signal her plugged ass sends to him.

“Very nice.”

She inhales sharply as he cups her breasts.

“What do I feel here?”

He peeks down the front of her dress and sees the piercings and weights.

“That is amazing! So pretty. But I bet those do hurt!” (Moving the weights ever so slightly from side to side.)

Tracy winces perceptibly.

“So this is my present? You, like this, my present?”

She nods, hoping he is pleased.

“Well I love it! Absolutely love it! You really shouldn’t have!”

Tracy couldn’t agree more with the last part!

All this time Bill was processing the scene. She knew he was submissive when it came to these games, and she had obviously figured out what his fetish had been. And here she was offering to submit to him on that basis. He could just unlock the bindings and let her go as he really wanted to fuck her right then and there. But no, that would be refusing his present, and might hurt her feelings. He could never do that.

So, fine, he would dominate her—she obviously wanted him to. And then he could fuck her!

He looks around—

“My god, look at all the toys!”

He had read and experienced enough in this area that he thought that if he kept it simple he could pull this off. But he needed a few minutes to work out how best to do this. But first, he need to establish control.

“Tracy, you are the most amazing and beautiful creature I have had the pleasure to have known. And I know well what you are asking here. And I will honor your request. But understand that this will be real, and not fantasy or pretend, so prepare yourself. I am now going to blindfold you so that you can think about what is going to happen to you in a few short minutes.”

He picks up a blindfold, and gently stretches it across her eyes. He strokes her hair gently for a few minutes, examines the gear on display for a few more, then steps out of the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Thinks Tracy. As she thinks this, though, her vagina involuntary clenches and spasms, tightening the metal grip of the chastity.

Part 11

Though lacking experience on that side of the ropes, Bill does a credible job as a dominant. He maintains control throughout, making Tracy squeal at the intended times. He started by spanking her, demonstrating his control and showing her how vulnerable she was. He introduced her to the cane with a few light strokes, used clover clamps and additional small weights on her already stretched nipples—always taking care and watching her reaction at each step. He wanted her to enjoy this, and judging by her arousal and the moans and other sounds she was making, she did.

One of his personal submissive fantasies centered around being hogtied. In his fantasy, he was on his stomach, cuffed at the wrists and ankles, the cuffs joined behind his back, and wearing an uncomfortable gag. Having been secured like that before, he knew that the pressure the position placed on his crotch would cause his arousal to build, while at the same time the discomfort from the restraints and attendant stiffness would make him struggle against his bonds—in actuality making things worse. In the fantasy, it would be at the point at which things started to get very uncomfortable and the frustrated arousal became intense that the dominant would start systematically tightening the restraints—thus amplifying the arousal and discomfort. And then, at just the right time, the dominant would turn their attention to his ass, using their fingers and toys to penetrate, probe and violate. He decided to try this with Tracy.

He did his best, and it worked exactly as he imagined. And he found it quite exciting—almost cumming himself while playing with her ass as she squirmed, fully restricted.

After this, he suspects that she has probably endured enough, and starts to bring her out of her state.

“In a moment I am going to release you and we are going to take some time together. You will, however, stay dressed until I say otherwise. When your chastity belt gets unlocked will depend completely on your behavior. Nod if you understand.”

Tracy nods.

“This is where the real fun begins,” thinks Bill.

He unlocks her from her bondage, leaving her collar and cuffs, their d rings no longer connected, on. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, darling, I am. More than okay.”

“I hope I didn’t do too much.”

“You were perfect! But I thought you had never done that before?”

“I hadn’t, but I have been on the receiving end of end a few times and have read a little.”

“Well thank you, ‘Sir’. You were magnifithent!”

“The pleasure was all mine. And I love my present!”

They kiss, sweetly, yet passionately. He notices the tongue piercing for the first time.

“Is that what I think it is on your tongue?”

“Yeth.”

“Wow! You really went all out!”

“Well, it ITH your birthday weekend!”

“About that, you know our little session here isn’t quite over.”

“Yeth Sir. I am yours to do with what you pleathe .”

“That’s a good girl. I know you are, and you are going to have to earn having your chastity unlocked.”

“Any thoughts on what you might need to do to earn it?”

Tracy considers the question and smiles—

“Well, do you know what thith tongue ball is really for!”

Part 12

It took a good bit of sucking and swallowing, but Tracy finally earned her release. Bill was one happy guy, and after she successfully mounted him twice, Tracy was one happy girl. It was late afternoon before they finished. As her first free act, Tracy switched out the tongue ball and reinserted the retainer. She had made dinner reservations at an excellent seafood restaurant for 8:00. They showered, dressed and found themselves enjoying a glass of wine before leaving.

Bill is curious—

“So what gave you the idea, and how did you know?”

“It was a guess. I was pretty sure. But I didn’t want to go back to where either of us once were. So I used my imagination. I’ll admit that I really enjoyed it. I can see now how you might’ve enjoyed that kind of thing too. The chastity belt was dreadful, though! It didn’t hurt, but it drove me absolutely nuts!

“Yeah. The chastity thing is powerful stuff. Strong medicine.”

“And is my boyfriend a budding dominant?”

“Only for you, Babe. Only for you. But the next time, if there is a next time, that belt is going to stay on a lot longer!”

“I can hardly wait!”

The dinner and wine were wonderful.

They made tender love one more time before bed.

The next day, Saturday, was spent with Tracy showing Bill around the city, shopping and eating. They stayed close to each other the entire day. Bill’s actual birthday dinner was at an inn about an hour away in the wine country, at which they stayed the night, returning to her apartment late afternoon Sunday. She cooked a light dinner, and they watched television cuddled on the couch like an old married couple.

Monday, and the end of their weekend, arrived too soon. Bill had several calls, on East coast time, early. And Tracy had to go into the office for the morning—she promised to be home by lunch at the latest, and left a little after 8:00.

After his calls wrapped up, Bill was left alone in the apartment and decided to he would get a start on packing. He walked by the open door to the playroom on his way to the bedroom. Something pink, the sissy dress, caught his eye. He went in to examine it more closely.

Tracy had draped the dress over the back of a chair, and had neatly placed the wig and the other parts of the uniform on the seat of the chair.

Bill held up the dress—it still smelled of her perfume.

He was a little larger than she, but the dress had elastic where it gathered and fitted. He thought maybe he could get it on. He had sworn off wearing women’s clothing, and he was very tempted. But he put the dress down. No, he wouldn’t yield to that.

Then he noticed the bra and panties. He picked them up. The panties were obviously in need of laundering—they smelled strongly of her, but they would definitely fit. And the bra, in which her breasts looked so lovely, had some stretch to it. The bra would be too large in the cups, but he could wear it as well. Tempting.

Finally, his resolve weakened His inner sissy reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt to try the things on. Tracy wouldn’t be there, and only he would know. It would be harmless, so why not?

He went to the bedroom and took off his clothes, and returned naked, with a budding erection, to the playroom. First the panties. So very, very sissy, but so very, very hot (in a femmie kind of way).Then the bra—a little disappointing in that it wasn’t as tight as he liked his bras, but still pervy.

Would he try the suspender belt and stockings?

That question had already been answered. He pulled the belt up to his waist, and threaded the garter straps and clips through the waist and leg openings of the panties. He then rolled the stockings up over his hairy legs and attached the clips.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

“Truly naughty stuff! I love it.”

Now for the dress. He pulled it on, marveling at the fullness of the internal petticoat.

“No wonder I could see her panties from behind!”

The shoes? Too small. But he could try the wig.

He placed the wig on his head and, using the mirror, more or less smoothed it out.

“Not bad!”

He looked around. Was there anything else he could try? He thought no to the collar and cuffs. Just then he noticed something else pink. Folded up on a shelf was a pile of matching pink fabric.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

“Mincing ribbons? My god!”

He had to put them on!

He affixed them to his wrists and ankles, and minced around in front of the mirror.

“This is so over the top!”

Just then—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Crap! It was Tracy! Her meeting must have ended early.

“Don’t come back here, I’m changing.”

“Don’t be silly.I’m … , i’m … .” (She sees him dressed, trying to cover himself.)

“My, my, my. What DO we have here?”

“Tracy! I can explain. It’s not like that. I was only curious. Let me take it off and we can talk about it.”

A big smile comes across her face.

“No. No. No. You will not take it off, young lady. That is most certainly not going to happen!”

Part 1

Bill and Tracy met for the first time in Atlanta—at a hotel bar in Buckhead.

He had just finished two days of meetings and needed a hassle-free place to grab something to eat and a drink. Due to the late hour, the hotel bar was the best bet.

She was sitting at the bar working through the emails of the day on her laptop, and nursing a glass of wine. But for a couple of other patrons, the bar was empty.

He sat down two stools from her. The bartender took his drink order. Bill looked at the menu, and was having trouble deciding among the offerings—nothing jumped out at him. He couldn’t help thinking how much of a pain these out-of-town meetings were—even figuring out what to order to eat at a hotel restaurant bar was a hassle.

Tracy noticed his struggle—

“Excuse me. But if you are looking for something really good, you may want to think about the seared Mahi. It’s amazing!”

“Seared Mahi? I wouldn’t have thought about that. But now that you mention it, it does sound good. Thank you!”

“My name is Bill, by the way.”

“I’m Tracy. Pleased to meet you, Bill.”

Bill hadn’t noticed how attractive, rather beautiful, Tracy was. He immediately took note. At the same time, she was appraising him. The physical attraction was immediate and palpable.

Conversation was easy. Both were very bright, and accomplished in their professions. She was a systems engineer by training, but had quickly risen to a high management position within the multinational company she worked for. He was a highly successful transactional lawyer for a well-regarded boutique law firm—having made partner at a very early age.

They talked into the night—politely learning about each other. She was attending a conference at the hotel, and he shared a few details about what he was doing. There definitely was a glimmer of something there.

Bill had just come out of a bad marriage and a difficult divorce. He had yet to even think about beginning to date—both because of the marital unpleasantness from which he had just escaped and the demands of his job.

It had been a long day for Tracy—having started the day on a red eye from the West Coast. She too was consumed by work, though this trip was not work-related. She was there to catch up with some good friends who were also attending the conference. It had been quite a while since she had actually “dated”—finding a physically attractive and interesting person, given her standards, to spend time with had proven to be just too difficult.

They each considered taking it further—to one of their rooms, but separately reasoned that it would be inadvisable to follow that impulse. Things like that never went anywhere, and they both had early morning obligations—his to get the airport and then to work, and hers to get to the early conference session. While unspoken, they both understood that their night would end when they were done at the bar.

Still, they enjoyed each other’s time. Being a gentleman, he did walk her to her room. And she treated him to a wonderfully affectionate kiss goodnight.

He was up and packed early. As he checked out of the hotel he noticed on a screen in the lobby a meeting schedule for a conference—The Southeastern Leather Collective. From prior experience (and knowledge he had gained via the Internet) he knew of that group—and knew that it existed to educate and support those interested in dominance and submission—sexual power exchange. He thought to himself that there must be another conference being held there—she didn’t seem that type. Out of curiosity, though, he asked the clerk at the desk if there was some other event being held at the hotel. The answer caused him to pause—

“No sir. We are hosting only the one conference.”

He could barely speak. Once he regained his composure, he smiled and chuckled to himself.

“If she only knew!”

Part 2

The second time they met was several months after—again at a hotel restaurant. This time, at breakfast at the Hotel Nomad in New York.

She had just had her coffee served. He was being escorted to his table when he saw her—

“Tracy, is that you?”

“Bill? This is just too weird! I cannot believe it is you. Can you join me?”

“I would be delighted.”

And so they talked. Almost like old friends who had been long separated and could immediately continue their relationship after the separation. They both felt this, and independently recognized it as an omen of sorts, karmic, and that something more would come.

Bill was feeling bold—

“Don’t suppose you’re free for dinner tonight?”

Something swelled within her—

“I am completely free—what are you thinking? “

“Well, do you like sushi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I know just the place. Are you staying here?”

“I am. You?”

“I am too. That will make it easier—getting to dinner, I mean.”

(Smiling. Knowingly.) “Of course. Time?”

“7:30?”

“Perfect. Meet you down here?”

“Again perfect.”

“Well, then, see you at 7:30.”

Bill used a connection to get 8:00 reservations at Shion 69 Leonard Street, one of his favorite spots. It had been many years since he had been this excited.

The prospect of their date had awakened something which had long lain dormant within Tracy—evidenced by an anticipatory arousal which interfered with her concentration for most of the day. She chided herself for this, and forced herself to try, with limited success, to ignore the dampness and swelling being visited upon her below. By the middle of the afternoon, she was almost desperate from arousal.

She was relieved when her meetings ended early, giving her time to shop. At the least, she needed to buy a panty or two as she had only packed for a few days, and the one she was wearing would be unwearable by dinner. So on to Madison Avenue.

She first stopped at Agent Provocateur—which had been one of her favorite spots back before she had become so overwhelmed by work. She bought a few items, just for fun, and found the perfect thing—a strappy three-piece black Whitney bra, panty and suspender ensemble, for the night. She bought sheer black nylons to go with the suspender belt, so she needed to find the perfect shoes, and then the right dress. Time was getting short. Luckily for Tracy, she found the ideal little black dress and Louboutin heels, lined in red leather, at a nearby shop.

He made it to the lobby first. When she came down in the elevator she near took his breath away. His reaction made her throb below. So much for the dry underwear.

Dinner was fantastic. Lots of saki, and a very nice Japanese scotch after. Neither one of them wanted to rush, but both felt what was coming.

While waiting for a cab on the street they kissed a long passionate kiss. The foreplay was almost over.

Her room. Anticipation and urgency were in control. He about lost it on the spot when he discovered what she was wearing for underwear. She came, for the first time, upon penetration, and for the second time when he orgasmed not too long after. Their needs and passion were unrelenting—continuing through the not so early hours of the night. They finally rested. Exhausted and, at least for a short time, still coupled together, until the dawn.

Part 3

Morning brought more need, but this time their lovemaking was measured, tender, and more lovingly passionate. Afterward, both were sexually spent, fully satisfied, and felt a tremendous closeness. They just held each other for the longest while. Neither had work commitments until later in the day, so they called for a large room service breakfast and just talked, mostly about small things, and took pleasure in each other’s company.

He was curious about one thing—the conference. But how to ask her about it?

Their conversation paused for a little, so he thought he would give it a try.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. That conference in Atlanta, I know a little about that group. How did you come to be there?”

A look of concern flashed across her face, and he saw her trying to think of how to answer. Finally, she took a deep breath—

He is hoping the spell hasn’t been too completely broken.

“I was going to have to share this with you at some point, and wasn’t quite ready, particularly after last night—which was absolutely amazing! (She takes his hand and squeezes it.) So here goes.”

“I was, several years ago, well, a professional dominatrix. I am retired from that now, and will never go back, but that is how I paid for college and graduate school. I still have friends in the scene, and several were at the conference, so that’s why I was there. I am also well-regarded, reputationally, in those circles, so I sometimes sit in on seminar panels. I was very, very good at it. If I went back to it I could probably make as much or more than I’m making now. But I had to get out. And I never ever had sex with any of my clients—male or female. While I did take pleasure in certain aspects of it, it was all business.”

“I hope this doesn’t ruin things for us.”

Bill takes a few seconds to take in what Tracy just said, and thinks about whether and how her revelation might have changed things. He responds carefully, not wanting to put her off—

“I don’t think that changes anything. It’s actually kind of exciting in a naughty, taboo kind of way. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you retire?”

“A lot of reasons. One, I kind of started liking it a little too much, and found the sessions frustrating. Not because I wanted sex, but because it was really the subs who had control. You would do to them what they asked, not what you wanted—I started feeling that I was the submissive. I would research and study, learning things that could have taken those interactions to the highest and most extreme level, but couldn’t put them into practice. So when I started excelling at work, I gave it up. I quit. Cold turkey.”

“You are the first one I’ve been with since.” I hope that’s okay?”

“Yes that’s okay.” (Kissing her tenderly.)

Tracy sighs, relieved.

“But wait, how did you know about the Collective?”

This takes Bill off balance, and he blushes noticeably.

“Well, I did have an interest in those kinds of things. The interest actually took a great toll on my marriage—it may have even caused the breakup. My fault really. We tried counseling, but it didn’t work. She admitted after the divorce that she had been jealous. That she thought I lusted for that more than I lusted for her, and she couldn’t handle it. This wasn’t true, but she felt it anyway. The breakup was very difficult, and I learned that those kinds of things have little to no place in a relationship.”

“So I too have quit. Never to go back.”

“Out of curiosity, were you the dominant?”

(He blushes again.)

“No. I was the submissive.”

(He looks down.)

“Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. It’s kinda like we’re a pair of recovering alcoholics or adicts or something.” (Laughing and smiling.) It’s more than okay.”

As she say this she reasons that he was probably into the feminization aspect of the scene—his features even had almost a delicate quality to them. But she doesn’t ask. Those tendencies never do fully go away. She feels a twinge between her legs. He continues—

“Well I’m glad we got that out of the way. Last night was evidence that neither one of us needs that kind of thing.”

“Agreed! Completely.”

“Now where were we?”

Part 4

It was quite the whirlwind romance. They were able to see each other frequently, this in spite of the demands of their jobs and living on opposite sides of the country. Paris for a few days, Sonoma and Napa for a few more. New Orleans, Miami, Rome, London, and of course New York, among others, for a weekend.

Their passion for each other deepened and intensified with each visit. Neither wanted things to change. But sometimes, changes result from inadvertent or unintentional actions.

They hadn’t spoken about their respective pasts since that morning in New York. But if they were being completely honest, he would have admitted that having sex with a real life dominatrix, even a retired one, was exciting in and of itself, and she would have admitted that being intimate with someone who was vulnerable and susceptible to the dark arts she had once mastered was equally thrilling. In fact, they each fantasized from time to time about what it would be like if they relapsed together and went back. By the same token, they both feared what might happen to their relationship if they did. All this was unspoken.

That he had been into the feminization aspect of the scene was still merely a suspicion on her part, though she was quite confident in her ability to make those kinds of judgments. But something inside here told her that she had to find out for certain. But how?

She came up with a plan. So what harm would it do if she “sissified” herself and offered her sissified self to him to do with what he pleased? She could buy an outfit from one of those sites that cater to sissies for her to wear, and test his reaction. At worst, he might think it silly, but it would still be sexy. And at best it would confirm her suspicions. And either way it would be fun.

Tracy’s ability to plan and her obsessive thoroughness and attention to detail had been the key characteristics that made her an incredibly talented systems engineer and had enabled her rise up the corporate ladder. These were the same qualities that made her a superior dominatrix—almost fetishistically pursuing the fetish. So if she was going to present herself as a “sissy”, the presentation would have to be perfect in all respects. She well knew about sissies and all the little whistles by which they could be manipulated—playing with them was probably the most erotic thing she had done in that prior life, and her favorite part of that life. So what she had in mind for Bill would be planned and designed to perfection.

She knew from experience that the whole sissy fetish was full of contrary and intersecting ideas and fantasies. It was the existence and management of the conflicts that made it exciting on both ends. For the male, femininity becomes erotic, thrilling and humiliating at the same time. The imagined construct is pure fantasy, yet highly addictive. But once the male ejaculates, the fantasy is over, at least until the next time he gives in to the temptation, and a period of guilt and denial typically follows.

Her interest was deeper. To her, helping the male to indulge in the fantasy was only the first step, the enticement, in a process which she thought, if done correctly, would lead to the male being wholly and completely enslaved by the femininity.

Due to the nature of the male’s fetish and fantasy, this end result wouldn’t be foreseeable, and he could easily be led helplessly down the path.

That was one of her frustrations in her prior life—only being able to help consummate the subs’ fantasy, and unable to realize hers. The end of her imagined path was complete emasculation and enslavement, both in fact and in femininity, something no horny male would expect.

But the purpose of this was not to explore her fantasy, but to figure out his. And as her plan entailed neither domination on her part or submission on his she reasoned that it would be safe for both of them.

So, what to wear? After some time on the computer she settled on a Pretty Ribbons Uniform, in pretty pink, from an online store, complete with matching pinafore, panty, petticoat, bra, suspender belt, stockings and shoes. Just looking at the outfit on the site made her throb down below. And she couldn’t resist the matching mincing ribbons.

She was off to a good start.

Now is where her perversions and imagination took hold. She thought about how she would create the perfect fantasy sissy. His perfect fantasy sissy. She thought about how she would have to prepare herself. The sissy would need to not have body hair—so she would have to attend to her arms, her mons and the other places where she might have even fine body hair. That would be easy.

The sissy would need to be pierced. Multiple in the ears—already covered. Nipples? God she would hate that—but necessary. The same with the tongue—but it would only be temporary and she could take it out. On the fence about the nose, and her belly button had already been done. Which left her nether parts—about which she was also undecided. Usually those piercings were for practical purposes—to support chastity and inhibit masturbation. She would have to think about that.

And then there was chastity management itself. Her sissy would have to be controlled. Self-stimulation made impossible But what about her? Her session preference in the prior life would have been a ball trap device, but she didn’t have balls to trap. And besides, while those devices were effective for sessions, they were nowhere near inescapable. She realized that she hadn’t before thought through what type of chastity her sissy would wear. Maybe something to ponder for the future?

Back to the question at hand, what kind of chastity would she wear? If it was her own female submissive, the answer, a pierced-on permanent shield, was easy. But she wasn’t going to do that to herself. It ultimately came down to two options, both of which would involve a belt Option one would be a male belt with a penis tube. Even if she didn’t have a penis it would still create the illusion of a sissy front. The other option would be a true female belt. She had worn a female belt before, and while it didn’t completely prevent her from achieving orgasm, it did a reasonable job and was incredibly frustrating to wear.

She chose the second option, both because no dominant would allow their sissy to orgasm freely and because she had, stored away with her toys, a vintage Tollyboy female belt, custom fitted for her to wear, that was as effective as they get. It would also allow access to her ass courtesy of the attaching chains. And she would need a jeweled plug for her ass.

Method of chastity decided, she began to work though the last details. This would be the hardest part—where the “devil” dwells.

Makeup and hair? She could have hers done to look like the model on the web site. Surely Bill had been on that site, so that had potential. She would need a wig. And she was sure one of her girlfriends would be more than happy to help her with her hair and makeup.

Perfume? Something feminine and submissive smelling. Maybe something from Chanel? She would shop for that at a department store.

Collar and restraints? Shoe locks, of course. And for the collar and cuffs, 30 mm polished steel with d-rings and click locks. She loved those locks—a sub could be completely restrained in a manner of seconds. Terrifyingly quick, as she thought about it. Merciless and inescapable.

But then when? And how would she offer herself to him?

Club zero 9 revisited: Angel by Deborah Ford

For those who haven’t read the Deborah Ford Club Zero 9 books, you need to know that a place exists where Bulls and their hotwives send their cucks for deep, immersive training to become sissy maids. A variety of dominant women teach the cucks their place while the psychiatrist, Dr Richter, helps the reluctant but gullible cucks over their fears and to face up to their futures

This is a short excerpt of events at the training areas of the club that weren’t part of the novels.

Angel

“Come in,” Dr Richter calls out as she sends a report of her previous patient sissy’s progress to her new Master and Mistress.
She glances up in time to see one of the men who help oversee the sissy cuck’s education pull Angel, a newish sissy pupil, by his pink leash into her study.
The psychiatrist can see immediately that the sissy is flustered, and flushed faced. They are so delightful after just a few days training when they have, to some extent learnt their place but still believe they can escape the system. Such adorable dumb blondes – they are usually blonde as stipulated by their owners.
This sissy’s blonde hair is styled with pretty, tight curls, which, despite the light make up, makes him look childishly cute.
She rises to accept the leash from the grinning hunky guy in his dark overalls.
“She any trouble?” Dr Richter asks the unshaven, masculine male.
With a grunt of a laugh he says, “Sissy cucks a problem? Not in this lifetime.” He looks down at the sissy in her schoolgirl attire of white blouse, short bib, pleated dress, white socks and three inch heels. The impregnable, hi-tech steel collar is tight around her neck, with the screen reading, ‘ANGEL’
Angel stamps her foot and quietly fumes, knowing she is not permitted to speak.
“You can release her cuffs,” Dr Richter says.
Grabbing the sissy’s shoulders, the dominant male physically turns the little sissy about on her heels to unlock the handcuffs.
As Dr Richter leads the sissy by her leash to the leather padded couch, she calls back, “And pick her up in an hour please.”
Another grunt of laughter and the man is gone, leaving Dr Richter alone with her current prey who visibly relaxes now there are no men in the room
“Oh, Dr Richter, I am so glad to see you again! You won’t believe what has been happening to me.” Angel rolls her eyes at all her misfortunes. “Everyone has the wrong idea and …”
A smiling Dr Richter raises her eyebrows and the sissy stops yammering.
“When should a sissy maid speak?” She asks, as if amused by the scamp.
“I’m so sorry, Dr Richter.” He moves into his childish reciting mode, “A sissy maid only speaks when spoken to, when given permission or after raising a hand and being given approval.”
Dr Richter rests her palm against the hot cheek of the sissy, “So why don’t you relax on my sofa and tell me all about it.”
The psychiatrist releases the leash, and the collar screen briefly flashes: ‘LEASH REMOVED’, before returning to the name, ‘Angel’.
Sitting in the manner commanded of sissies by Club Zero Nine, Angel presses her skirt up against the backs of her legs, sits elegantly on the coach and then keeping her thighs together, swings her legs up and lies down.
“It has been so, so awful, Dr Richter. Really horrible!”
“Aw, Angel. You do sound as if you have been in the wars.” The psychiatrist settles in her deep seat, picking up her tablet. It is already open at Angel’s page. “Oh, Angel, congratulations. I see you have passed the walking and sitting tests, so you have won the privilege of wearing tights like a big girl.”
Smiling as modestly as he can, Angel says, “I couldn’t have done it without your help, Dr Richter.”
Dr Richter leans forward and rubs the nylon around over the sissy’s thighs. She loves the erotic tingle. It is like electric. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I said you were a natural, dumb, sissy cuck, didn’t I?”
Though he winces at being called a dumb, sissy cuck, Angel is too thrilled at having his thighs rubbed to complain. He closes his eyes, his breathing growing more shallow as the fingers of Dr Richter push under his skirt, and tickle the inside of his thighs.
He tries to speak, “Dr Richter, I am not really dumb. It’s just that our training means that …”
“Oh silly, Angel. Both your Master and your Mistress said you were dumb when they signed you in.”
Angel’s eyes flash open. “That’s another thing. I hate having to address him as Master. He is an uncouth Bully. My wife, erm, Mistress, is besotted by him. She doesn’t know what a Bully he is …”
Dr Richter says quietly, “And what is that around your neck, Angel?”
His heart sinks, but he knows he must reply.
“It’s his collar, Dr Richter.”
She stops dragging her nails over his nylon clad thighs. “Whose collar, Angel?”
He closes his eyes, taking in a deep angry breath. “Master’s! It is Master’s collar, Dr Richter.”
“And whose neck is your Master’s collar around, Angel?”
He pouts, looking away in fury. “It’s Master’s collar locked around the neck of his sissy cuck.”
“And isn’t it so divine, Angel? Light pink painted steel. Lovely little lock at the front. And look how narrow and pretty it is. These modern batteries are so small the collars can be truly sissy size.”
“But Dr Richter, it means that,” he sighs before he can say the word, “Master, knows where I am. I mean like always! And can administer electric shocks. And he can change the lettering on the front screen. Whenever he wants. And …”
Pressing her finger against his pouting pink lips, she says, “Oh do hush Angel. You are making yourself so cross. We don’t want a tantrum, do we, Angel?”
His eyes flash in fear as he gasps. He was caned twice that morning for being naughty, according to the teachers. Oh, how he hates the cane.
He knows Dr Richter has a long thin cane she keeps in her tall cupboard if her patients act up in any way and she ensures they all feel it on their first two visits. They don’t forget it.
“Are we going to behave like a good girl, Angel?”
“Yes, Dr Richter, sorry Dr Richter.”
The psychiatrist’s pussy melts at the sight of her dumb arsed sissies showing their fear.
“I mean,” she says with a tight grin, “You wouldn’t want your Master to know you’ve been playing up in your sessions with me. Now would you?”
“No! Please Dr Richter. Please don’t tell Master. Please, please!”
Oh God, his eyes are flashing like traffic lights.
“Oh? Are you asking me to lie to your owner, Angel? I do hope not.”
Sissies at Club Zero Nine, learn in a short space of time that when they are in a hole, to stop digging. He says nothing but shakes his head so that the curls flick back and for over his cheeks.
She desperately needs to mount him, resting her sopping pussy over his mouth and commanding him to start licking.
She needs to get a grip. That’s the trouble with dumb cuck sissies, they are such a turn on that they can be dangerously distracting.
“Now Angel, your Master pays extra for our little chats. Isn’t that good of him?”
He nibbles his lips, he doesn’t want to give the bully who is wrecking his life any credit, but knows the required answer, so whispers, “Yes, Dr Richter, I guess so.” He smiles up at her, with an expression of affection, like a puppy with its owner. “I do love our chats, Dr Richter. It’s so good that someone is on my side and that I can talk to you about anything.”
“Oh, silly cuck. We are all on your side here. All we want is for you to graduate as a complete sissy maid for the pleasure of your Master and Mistress. And all we ask of you is that you attend to your lessons and pay attention.”
He wrinkles his face. “I know Mistress, but sometimes it is so hard. I only agreed to come here for a few days as a laugh. Now I am booked in for the entire week. And Master and Mistress have signed me up for the second week already!”
To avoid laughing out loud, Dr Richter affects a cough. How dumb are sissies? They are such a delight
“Well,” she says softly, “I’m afraid you have been signed up. So best get on with it, eh?”
“But Dr Richter, on the next course we have to wear a spiked chastity cage. Teacher says it will help us know what happens when maids are naughty. And, and ….” He closes his eyes, “this afternoon we have to learn how to suck a dildo and a vibrator!”
“Well, looking at how you got an A plus for pussy licking, I am sure you will make your Master and Mistress very proud of your efforts on cock sucking. Your teachers will guide you very thoroughly.”
He shakes his head, “Dr Richter, no! I am not gay. I’ll hate it and …”
She taps her finger against his lips to shut him up.
“You are a maid, silly. As such you have to please everyone.” She chuckles affectionately, “You don’t think that airhead maids like you get to choose who you please and serve, do you? That wouldn’t work at all. Silly girl.”
“Well, no, Dr Richter, but I’m not a real sissy maid like those sluts back in the classroom. Master brought me and Mistress here for a bit of a buzz. He told us to come see it all.” Angel’s eyes grow glassy and unfocussed. “Of course, as soon as I got here, I wanted to try that special electronic chastity cage. It looked fun and this collar, which is so horrible and cruel really, but looks so hot. Oh my, and the maid’s dresses and these school girl uniforms and …”
His voice falters, and he suddenly looks miserable as if understanding how he has been trapped so easily.
Dr Richter presses her nails back under his skirt until she reached the metal of the chastity cage, whose hard, unforgiving surface she strokes firmly.
“Aw, you must feel so dumb, maid. There you were trying stuff your Master recommended and all of a sudden you are signed up for the first week. Just like that. Such a whirl wind for a stupid sissy.”
That word stupid again! Angel frowns and clenches his fists. “It wasn’t stupid, Dr Richter. I didn’t know what I was signing and I …” glumly, he sighs. “Oh dear, that does sound a bit dumb, I guess. I mean maybe I should have read it.”
He sees Dr Richter smiling at him with the sort of smile teachers reserve for young children when they admit to a mistake. “Yes, or perhaps asked your Master for advice. Tomorrow you will get lessons on how to ask adults for guidance. A sissy like you will find that a great help in navigating this complicated world.”
Pressing her fingers along his nicely smooth balls, Dr Richter waits for his eyes to close in sexual need before saying, “So you are so pleased you have your Master and Mistress to make big important decisions for you, yes?”
He nods and groans a ‘yes’, pressing down his hips to increase the erotic pressure of her touch on his crotch.
“Oh, yes, yes, Dr Richter.”
She leans in so close to the fairy that she can smell his flowery perfume, the same scent all maids have while they are studying here.
“I bet you are really grateful to your Master and Mistress for making the right decisions for you.”
His eyes can barely open, he knows he has to resist. “Well, I, I …”
She cooes, “And another couple of A stars in your class work and you earn your stockings. How about that?”
He arches his back and groans.
“Oh, my, Dr Richter, I would like that.”
She grins, it’s like guiding a mouse into a snare. Bang and he’ll be caught forever.
“And just think, Angel, if you get five As for class and homework, your Master will be asked if you can have the level one maid’s uniform. How about that?”
Her fingers are now pressing hard on his cage, and she can feel him squirting uselessly inside his cage. Her panties are now soaked with pleasure.
“You’d love your Master to sign you up for the third week as well, wouldn’t you?”
He is trying to say ‘no’, but his brain is floating high up into a pink sky with pink comforting clouds and a warm pink sun.
She turns on the recorder on her tablet as Angel squirms so that his skirt pulls up showing her panties through her tights.
“Erm, nooooo,” Has he said no? he tries again, but it is hard to speak. What was he saying ‘no’ to? His brain is too fuzzy to work.
“Yes, sissy, and think about that third all important week. That beautiful, full black uniform with the frills. Go on, you’d love your Master to put you down for that, wouldn’t you?”
He is shaking his head, feeling his curls gently scratching at his hot cheeks.
Her lips are next to his ear now. “Now just think, sissy. A completely qualified, fully attired maid standing in your own front room, before your superior Master and Mistress. A happy girl.”
He splutters out, “Yes, oh yes. Yes please.”
“So how would you ask your Master to sign you up for the third week? What would you say?”
“Ooooh.” He can already feel the wonderful black maid’s dress around him, the beautiful apron, the wonderful heels. The outfit he has seen on the level three and level four sissies is so adorable and hot. “Oh God. Yes, yes. Please Master, book me in for the third week. Please.”
Dr Richter is close to cumming. Is there anything more exciting in the world than watching a dumb cuck sissy sign away her life, “Come on Angel,” she says sucking in air to breathe. “You can ask nicer than that. Go for it.”
Somehow deep in his addled mind, Angel is saying to himself: go on, that would be so hot to say those words. After all that horrible bully can’t hear you. Your Mistress cannot hear you. Who would know?
His dick is filling its relentless cage, pumping continuously, so that his panties and tights around his crotch are sopping wet, yet he can never quite cum.
“Oh, Master, please, pretty please, oh please sign me up for week three and week four, and all the weeks. Please. Please. I’d be so grateful. Really. Please.”
Suddenly his dick is no longer being played with. The world is returning to its orbit. His eyes flash open. He is back in the friendly psychiatrist’s office on the third floor of Club Zero 9. Just above the classrooms.
Dr Richter is busy holding her tablet up close to her pc and tapping out something on the keyboard. She sees the recorded file of Angel and marks it as ‘Angel’s request to her Master’.
She mutters to herself, “Now, where is your owner’s email address? Where … ah …”
“Dr Richter,” Angel starts, fear and dread filling his face, “what are you doing?”
Dr Richter turns on him, the way a tiger might turn on its quarry in the jungle. “Quiet, Angel. Else I’ll get one of the men to cane you on your way back to class.”
Oh! Like all sissies, he hates the cane. A bottom spanking or even a paddling can be quite erotic, but the cane is dreadful. A real punishment.
“Sorry, Dr Richter, it is just that …”
She just glares at him, with a tightening face to make Angel lie back and feel stormy dread filling his tummy.
Dr Richter grins as she presses a button on the keyboard and says, “And send!”
He feels breathless and lightheaded from the remains of his arousal. “Oh no!”
A mischievous grin twitches on the psychiatrist’s lips as she adopts a sympathetic manner, “Oh Angel? Did you not want me to send your lovely request to your owner?”
There are tears in his eyes. “No, Dr Richter. I didn’t mean it. I need to get home to my wonderful wife and look after her.”
“Really?” her eyes gleam with malice, “Hasn’t anyone told you that we have placed a fourth week maid at your Mistress and her lover’s disposal? I can assure you, your Mistress is being well looked after.”
She takes in the dumb cuck’s astonishment before gently continuing.
“It is just so your Mistress can learn how to control one of you dumb sissy maids. It’ll make it easier for you when your Master feels you have passed all the courses, and he can allow you home to serve them both.”
“But, but,” a tearful Angel is spluttering, searching for the right words.
She strokes back the blonde curls of the delightfully helpless cuck. “You mustn’t upset yourself. Poor thing. It is best that your Master makes the decisions for you and your Mistress now.” She kisses his forehead, “You’ll see.”
“Dr Richter, please tell me how I stop all this, how I can …”
“Aw, would you believe it, Angel. Your our time is up. It’ll all have to wait until tomorrow and your next session. You do want more sessions, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, yes please,” Angel says putting her manicured pink fingernails up to her pretty pink lips. “You are the only person I can talk to about all this. The other girls on the course are real sissies. And they are all such dumb, stupid sissies. They just want to talk about the schoolgirl outfits we have to wear and which shoes will be best for the black maid’s dress when they graduate.”
“Oh? And Angel which schoolgirl outfit do you prefer?”
Suddenly Angel becomes animated, as if all her stress has vanished. She sits up, “Oh Dr Richter, I really like this one with the bib part, but I have seen one which has sweet ruffles along the edges of the bib. But I also liked the short, pleated tartan skirts with the white blouses we were made to wear on the first day. Oh, and the short grey skirts too. The teachers say they are best with tights not stockings but …”
Dr Richter laughs gently, “I am sure you love your girly chats with the other cucks here.”
She presses a button on the intercom, “Our session is over. Would you mind talking Angel back to her class.”
A rough male voice just says ‘yeh’ over the speaker.
“Aw,” it feels like the end of the world for Angel. “Dr Richter, I wish we could talk for longer.”
“I know sweetie.” She checks her tablet screen and smiles with surprise. “Especially as you have an A star in oral sex with women. Oh, I do like an accomplished sissy cuck. Clever girl.”
Angel blushes, “The teachers say I am a natural.”
She reads another page. “So I see. I think I’ll be looking for a two hour session from you, perhaps in my apartment.”
“I would love that, Dr Richter,” he beams, but then furrows his brow. “But I am not sucking the dildos.”
“Angel, you will be delightful at it, I am sure. I bet all the guys will be wanting to take you for walks on your leash and guide you from your lessons to lunch and to my office, once you pass that course.”
The look of horror on Angel’s face delights Dr Richter. She needs to rub it in.
“Oh, and just look at those lip implants your kind owner has paid for. Hmmm. Delectable!”
He touches his humiliatingly inflated pink lips. “The teachers say it lasts a week, so they’ll be back to normal by Friday.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. We top them up weekly. Your Master was adamant about that.”
A knock on the door and the hunky male in his overalls enters.
“Take back the bimbo, Doctor?”
“Yes, please. Important oral sex on males lessons this afternoon,” she turns with an innocent expression to her prey. “You wouldn’t want to miss them would you Angel?”
Angel is about to remonstrate, but the man is already roughly pulling her from the couch and cuffs her wrists behind her back. Why must they be so harsh with the sissies?
“Dr Richter, I really don’t need to be handcuffed. It frightens me.”
Dr Richter is all reasonableness. “Oh silly girl. It is for your own good. We wouldn’t want you getting into trouble on your way back to classes,” she checks that the male is listening as she adds, “now that the men can paddle that ever so cute bottom of yours.”
Angel gasps. “Dr Richter!”
Why did she say that when he is helpless on the end of the leash with this thug. Oh no! he might get the wrong idea.
The brute anchors the leash on the collar as its screen flashes from ‘Angel’ to ‘LEASHED’. The screen then reverts back to his sissy name.
Angel hates being cuffed when around men. They are so powerful, and she already feels timid and weak next to them. Not least because of his swishy short schoolgirl outfit.
As the caretaker tugs on the leash, indicating that Angel must start walking, Dr Richter calls out merrily, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel.”
Even on his three inch heels, Angel finds he needs to concentrate to stop tumbling over when being pulled on a leash. With his hands handcuffed behind him, it is difficult to balance. Though the teachers patted his bottom as he was so good at it when the sissies were being taught how to walk on leads.
“Thank you, Dr Richter,” he calls back in his sing song voice. And then gives the psychiatrist a pretty smile.
Dr Richter saves her last words before the door closes, “Good girl, Angel. And remember to behave. You wouldn’t want to be spanked by this man with his paddle before your next lesson.”
The door closes, just as a wide eyed Angel looks back in shock at his friend, the psychiatrist.
Dr Richter chuckles as she checks her next subject. Ah, it is a fourth week sissy who was caught by her Mistress trying to unlock her chastity cage with a stolen key.
She smiles, this will be fun.

Austin and Riley continuation by Chloe Part Eight