Little Miss Sissy Whore

From alt.sex.stories.tg Sun Nov 10 15:57:40 1996 Path: nienor!sauveur!IN-Berlin.DE!fub!fu-berlin.de!main.Germany.EU.net!EU.net!enews.sgi.com!news.sgi.com!howland.erols.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.campus.mci.net!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Organization: CampusMCI Lines: 1842 Message-ID: 32955d0b.5702478@news NNTP-Posting-Host: s22-pm02.appstate.campus.mci.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Newsreader: Forte Agent .99f/16.299

I did not write this story but I certainly enjoyed reading it. ------------------------------------------------------------

Little Miss Sissy Whore

• • • • • • • • • • • D I S C L A I M E R * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Miss Sissy Whore contains graphic non-consensual sexual, and sometimes violent, scenes between adults.

This story is FICTION. It does NOT depict the relationship between actual living people.

It is NOT intended for readers under 18 or those who are easily offended by pornography. It is NOT for the squeamish. If you are UNDER 18, or if you ARE offended by pornography, please press ill or and DO NOT CONTINUE to read.

All rights reserved: Permission is hereby given to distribute this story via electronic means only, for non-profit use. This header must remain intact. All rights for this story remain the property of the author.

Little Miss Sissy Whore

by A. Boychick, July, 1995

A man "on the make" has his tables turned, permanently, by a dominating female. There are potent elements of forced feminization (including cross-dressing, exhibitionism and humiliation), strong discipline, harsh bondage, severe punishments, coerced male-to-male contacts, non-consensual watersport activities, and the forced wearing of a special chastity belt.

Contents:

Chapter 1 -- The Pick-up -- His fascination with her handcuffs leads to his introduction into a regime of strict bondage and discipline.

Chapter 2 -- Intensified Training -- Certain parts of his anatomy are taught new respect, and he is made to suffer intense indignities.

Chapter 3 -- Metamorphosis -- He is inexorably turned into a sissy whore, through harsh training, in his new specially-chosen wardrobe.

Chapter 4 -- Out on the Town -- He comes out into the public and his new skills are tested in a "rough trade" bar.

Chapter 5 -- Now and Forever -- Events following the establishment of his new role in life.

Note:

Please do NOT email me, asking me to send missed postings by return email. I WILL REPOST chapters missed to this newsgroup, but can only do it in small parts (chapters) due to the limitations of the anonymous remailer.

Of course, I would appreciate positive comments and suggestions, but not flames, which will be ignored.

Chapter 1 -- The Pick-up

Every year I waited eagerly for the three days when PC-Expo was back in town. In the past, I was always able to find some willing and naive out-of-town female to pick up, "do the nasty," and say my hasty good-bys. Most of them were from some small hick town and were entranced with the Big Apple. In fact, that was both the nickname for the city, and for me. Most women just couldn't wait to sink their teeth into me.

So there I was, looking for some love, on the last day of the three-day convention. I walked up and down the aisles, past many displays, until I spotted my newest target -- my conquest to be. I stood back for a while and carefully watched her.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her as she smiled sweetly and greeted her visitors. She stood about five and a half feet tall, had flowing black hair, and a great body. What I loved most were her lips, which I could imagine encircling my cock and then slowly and wonderfully slurping up and down on it. She was wearing an almost see-through white no-sleeve blouse and a short white skirt. When she turned around and bent over to find some literature -- I made sure to position myself so that I could watch -- I licked my lips when I noticed a bit of visible panty line. This is going to be great, I thought. I didn't want to appear as though I was loitering, so I found every excuse I could to walk up and down the aisles past her company's display before I would make my move on her.

I swaggered over to her and began asking some innocuous questions about memory management and the speed of data transfer for her company's products. I didn't bother to listen to her answers as I glanced down at her neckline. I made some small talk about the hot and humid weather we were having, and then I asked her to join me for some coffee at the end of her day. I tried to sound understanding as I facetiously mentioned that it must have been just "wonderful" for her to have had to stand on her high heels all day, and I joked that what she really needed was a foot massage. Her eyes lit up when I said this and she agreed to join me for coffee, and the way she answered me made me assume that there was more than coffee in store for the evening. She told me not to wait there for her since she didn't want her coworkers to know about our "date," but, rather, to wait outside at the main entrance to the exhibition hall.

About 30 minutes after the end of the show, I was still standing impatiently outside and I hoped I that I wasn't being stood up, since all my time and efforts would have been wasted. I never liked waiting for anything -- especially while buses, taxis and truck rumbled past, spewing out their noxious fumes -- and I was getting angrier by the minute. Then, I spotted her, finally, coming out, and I greeted her rudely, and stupidly, it turned out, saying, "It's about time you showed up." She looked surprised, as though I had slapped her, and quickly apologized to me. However, her bouncy smile turned to one of caginess and wariness.

"Why don't you hail a cab. I want to go back to my hotel to clean up first," she told me. Now this sounded much more promising. I stepped out into the street, raised up my hand, and within 15 seconds, a cab stopped next to us. "Penn Hotel, please," she told the driver.

She was sullen and silent for several blocks, and then whispered to me that she wanted to pay me back for having to wait. I again got my hopes up as the cab stopped in front of the hotel.

We rode up in the elevator to the fifteenth floor, got off and walked to the end of the hall. Finally, we were alone in her room, which was more like a suite, since there seemed to be a separated sitting room. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable," she said as she led me over to the couch. As she sat down next to me her skirt hiked up almost to her crotch. As she turned towards me, I quickly got a glimpse of the top of her breasts and her silky white bra through the top two open buttons of her blouse. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glance at me. I knew that she caught me looking and she smiled seductively.

As we sat together, I couldn't help noticing what looked like strange-looking handcuffs on the coffee table. They looked like large figure-eights. There were rubber gaskets attached to the steel; the rubber would serve to encircle one's wrists. I was curious but fascinated about why she would have left them out like that. It excited me to wonder if this chick was into kink. She watched my eyes focus on them and, as if she were reading my mind, told me that she always brought them with her when she traveled in case she couldn't at first trust someone she met. She explained that they were specially made in Europe for prolonged wearing and were very tight-fitting, yet comfortable. "Here, let me try them on you," she said enticingly as she picked them up.

I was hesitant. I didn't even know her name. She turned to me and began kissing me. She ran her hand softly over my chest and then, slowly down towards my crotch. I was starting to respond. "C'mon, I won't bite." I was getting more turned on.

She told me to stand up and face her. I felt my penis becoming more aroused and I hoped that she wouldn't notice. She quickly flicked her hand down over the bulge in my pants and, at almost the same instant, snapped the handcuff around my left wrist. As the ratchet tightened, I felt my wrist being encased in its pliable, yet inescapable, rubber grip. Holding the handcuffs with her right hand, she told me to turn around, again very lightly sweeping her hand over my bulge. She reached out, grabbed my right arm, and quickly fastened the other cuff around my wrist. "There. How does that feel?" she asked with a chuckle.

The rubber was tight against my wrist. It didn't cut into my wrist, yet I couldn't move my wrists up and down inside the cuffs, either. "Okay, that's enough," I said with alarm. "Unlock me NOW!"

Holding onto the cuffs and ignoring me, she continued, saying, "These cuffs have another feature. I can also lock the swivel into any position. Let me show you." She stood up and, using unexpected strength, pushed my elbows closely together. She quickly reached down, adjusted the handcuff mechanism, and it clicked into place. My elbows stayed painfully close. I could hardly move my arms at all. I stood there, with my chest jutting out and my wrists and arms fastened together, and despite my sudden fear during all this, I was becoming even more aroused.

"Stay right where you are," she laughingly said, as she went into the other room and came back with a duffel bag and an ominous looking device, a 10-inch long black rod with a red button on the end. My eyes bulged with fear as she walked slowly over to me, obviously relishing the moment, put the duffel bag on the coffee table and placed the prod lightly on the swelling in my pants, and then pressed the button. The pain was incredibly intense! It felt like I got kicked in the balls and I started to topple over.

She caught me as I started to fall down and told me to stay on my knees, or else she would use it again. With tears in my eyes, and the pain still in my gut, I asked her why she was doing this to me. "I don't need a reason why. And you are to remain silent unless I allow you to speak -- or else I'll use the cattle prod again on you." Needless to say, I didn't need a reminder.

Then, she opened up the bag and pulled out what looked like a very wide dog collar, except that hers had several rings fastened to it. "This is a posture collar, my dear," she explained as she fastened it tightly around my neck. "It will hold your head proudly up and will stop you from turning your head at all. Then, I heard a click and she said, "There, that's done. You're not going far with that locked on."

"Now, stand up," she ordered. "Step up on the coffee table."

I had only a little trouble standing up and then stepping up onto the coffee table since the pain in my groin was subsiding. "Turn and face me," she ordered. "And don't make this difficult for us!"

She unlaced and removed my shoes, and then my socks. She reached up and unfastened my belt buckle, pulled down my pants and my white cotton briefs. My cock had started to become erect again. "You pig," she said disgustedly. "Look at these stains in your underwear." She stood up with my briefs and roughly wiped the remains of the day's skid marks all over my mouth and face. "You will have to be cleaned out later," she said decidedly.

Then she reached once again into her duffel bag and brought out two larger single cuffs, several lengths of chain, and a small whip. "This is a dog whip," she explained. After I fasten you securely to this table, and do what I want to you, I am going to teach your penis some respect." With that, she reached down, locked the cuffs around each ankle, locked a chain onto each of the cuffs and then ordered me to lie down, face up, on the coffee table. My arms ached as my weight bore down on them and she made sure that my legs were spread wide as she fastened the chains to the legs of the table.

She took out a large pair of scissors and pointed them right in my face. She brought the sharp point right down to my eye and then laughed. "Don't worry, I won't blind you just yet," she said threateningly. Then she proceeded to cut off my shirt, and pulled it out from under my body. "You won't be needing this rag again."

She brought out a large black strap and buckled it tightly around my chest and underneath the table. "I'm glad the furniture is well made," she laughed. And then, abruptly, her tone changed and she said, "Now, please thank me for the punishment that you are about to receive."

I didn't know what to say. So I just repeated her and said, softly, "Thank you for the punishment that I am about to receive." She smiled, and answered, "You're welcome. You have certainly deserved what you're going to get."

With that, she walked around and stepped over my head so that I could see right up her skirt. "This is what you were after, wasn't it?" she demanded. "I know what you want. I know what all of you want. And I will now get what I want."

She pulled her pantyhose down, and then slowly pulled her panties down. I smelled her musk; she must have been aroused. She lowered her body down on me so that her pussy was right over my face. I could hardly breathe. I couldn't move my head at all because of the posture collar. My face was imprisoned by her legs and cunt. She ground herself down on my mouth and nose. "Make sure you keep your mouth open and your tongue out, or else," she commanded, though I could barely hear her. She rubbed her cunt up and down and around my face, mouth and nose. She was rubbing rhythmically for a while and then her movements became more frantic. I made sure to keep on tonguing her, and I even nibbled when I could. Suddenly, she spasmed and I knew she had gotten there. She stopped churning and then raised her body onto my chest.

"Now, I want to give you something to wash that down with," she said wickedly. "Make sure you drink down every drop or your punishment will be even more severe." With that, she once again moved her body down on my face and clasped her legs tightly against my ears. She pushed her slit down on my mouth reached down and closed off my nose with her thumb and forefinger, and started to pee into my mouth. I gagged and swallowed. I could hardly breathe. I swallowed as fast as I could. Finally, it was over. She pushed her body back up so that she was straddling my chest as I was gasping for breath. Once again, she smiled maliciously at me.

"That was for my pleasure. Now it is time for your punishment. I want to now make sure that we won't be interrupted if you scream and somebody then hears us. And you will scream. I'll make sure of it."

She reached over for her pink panties, and felt the crotch part. "Good, they're still wet from today," she said. She then rubbed the wet part over my nose, and made sure to stick them into my nostrils. "Now open your mouth wide." I obeyed and she stuffed her panties into my mouth. She then picked up her panty hose and wrapped them tightly several times around my head and mouth, which held the panties deep in my mouth. She tied a knot in the pantyhose and the gag was complete. Then, once again, she pinched my nose shut with her thumb and forefinger and laughingly said, "See...I even own your nose."

I couldn't breathe and I started to struggle against my bonds. She slapped my face with her left hand. I was startled. And then she slapped me with her right hand. "Your punishment collar will stop your head from moving and will stop me from doing any permanent damage...unless I want to. Now make sure to keep your eyes open. I want to watch you suffer and I want you to watch me punish you. If you disobey me, I'll stick that cattle prod right up your ass, and if I do that, I might even ruin you for life." She smiled malevolently at me, and just as suddenly, her smile turned back to sweetness.

And then the punishment began in earnest. First she slapped one side of my face, and then the other. I was made to watch her hands swing down and strike my face. I was forced to look at her face, which metamorphosized from demonic to angelic. I was forced to watch this satanic angel hitting me. Again and again. Inexorably. Left, then right, then left, then right. It wouldn't stop. She couldn't stop, for she looked transformed. My face was burning. I could feel my cheeks puffing up. I could feel blood in my mouth. And then, a gyration from her loins and it was, finally, over.

A sigh, an exhalation, and I could hear her whisper to herself, and maybe to me, "Oooh, that was nice...that was so nice." She must have orgasmed just from inflicting pain on me!

I was hurting, and hurting badly. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. My neck was stiff and sore. My arms hurt dreadfully since they were locked together behind my back and I was lying face up on top of them. My mouth was filled up with her used, wet panties and the sides of my mouth were distended by the pantyhose tied around the back of my neck. My legs were stretched over the sides of the coffee table and my maleness was exposed and vulnerable.

She stood up, pivoted off me, and sat down on the couch. She promptly placed her feet up on my stomach. I became her footstool. It felt somewhat better to have her weight off my chest, but I still couldn't move. I could only look up at the ceiling, since the posture collar made it impossible to turn my head. I couldn't believe what was happening to me.

After several moments, she started to explain softly, "I haven't forgotten about punishing your nasty penis." That will come next. "But I first want to tell you about your helpless situation. First, no one knows that you are here. If, for some reason, you were asphyxiated, or were injured, or I no longer had a need for you, I could leave you right here, dead or maimed, in this room. No one in this city knows my name, for I paid cash for this hotel room. Even you don't know my name. And that would be the end of that."

I did not know how demented this woman was or could be. All I knew was that I was in some serious trouble.

"I'm going to give you some time to think about that." She rose to get up, reached once again into the duffel bag, and pulled out and showed me what appeared to be a large leather hood. "This is a punishment hood. It will form-fit tightly around your head, and once I lock it onto you punishment collar, it will be much harder to hear anything. To keep you breathing, there are nose holes, and if I want to, I can simply close them up. Just make sure you don't make me do that," she ended up warning me.

With that, she pulled the leather mask over my head, tightly zipped it and then locked it to the rings on my collar. I couldn't see anything. I could barely breathe. She positioned the nose holes carefully over my nostrils and I was finally able to take in some air. She waited several seconds, and the she said, "Let me show you the power I have over you." Suddenly, I couldn't breathe! I felt myself starting to pass out in the darkness of the hood, and then, mercifully, she let me take in some air. "You see, all it takes is two fingers," she chuckled.

Abruptly, she said, "I have to to clean up. And then I've got to get you ready for more of what's in store for you. I'll be back with you soon. You stay right there."

Chapter 2 -- Intensified Training

My mouth was gagged. My cheeks, beaten and puffy, were hurting even more, encased by the leather hood. I could barely breathe through my nose; I could not avoid smelling the remnants of her piss and her love juices. I was tied tightly, face up, on a coffee table in an anonymous hotel room. My legs were anchored to the legs of the table and stretched apart. My arms were locked by those devilish cuffs behind my back. I was totally in her power. And she had gone away. She could have gone anywhere. Or she could have been sitting right there watching me. There was no way for me to know.

My wait seemed interminable until I once again heard her rummaging through her bag. I felt her pulling up on my dick, and then I felt something pushing against my ass. "I love to make a man suffer for what gives him the greatest joy," I heard her say, muffled through my hood. "I'm going to push this large vibrator way up your ass and turn it on. Then I am going to stimulate you. Every time you get hard, I am going to whip your hard penis until it gets soft." And with that, I felt her starting to slowly push the vibrator into my ass. I tried to tighten my sphincter, but I could not stop her, for, after her incessant efforts, it went deeply into my ass. And then, I felt it start to vibrate.

I felt her sit down on my chest. She must have still been naked. She had grasped my manhood and waited. Without even wanting to, I felt myself becoming erect. She wrapped her thumb and middle finger around the base of my dick, and reached down and turned off the vibrator. Then I felt a searing pain. She was slowly whipping my penis! My eyes started to tear, and I couldn't help screaming, but the scream turned into a moan inside the gag. The burning pain continued, for she was relentless. Finally, thankfully, I felt the hardness in my penis subside.

I heard her say, "I know you men love being hard. But I'm going to change your mind. Now, let's do this again," as I once again felt the vibrator begin to buzz. She started to move her hand up and down on my prick. I think she even used some lubrication. Her hand went up and down over the burning welts. Up and down. And my maleness once again hardened. Oh no...oh no. I couldn't stop it. I felt her weight shift again, and the buzzing stopped. I knew what was in store for me. And I couldn't avoid it. Again, she wrapped her hand around the base of my dick and started to slowly whip it. Again, the pain was intense and brutal. She waited between swings so that I could feel the impact of each swish of the whip -- and so I could experience the fear of waiting for the inevitable flash of pain. I could hear her chuckle to herself as I became eventually became flaccid.

And this cycle went on. I lost count of how many times. Sometimes, I could feel the whip strike my balls. Other times, she left the vibrator on while she whipped me, and then it took even longer for my erection to subside. She was truly evil!

Finally, it was over. She pulled the vibrator roughly out of my ass, and I could feel her get off of me. My dick felt like it had been turned into chopped meat.

I could feel my bindings loosened from my ankles and the chest strap holding me down was removed. "Stand up!" she ordered. As I did so, she helped me regain my balance and I felt her hands moving over my body. My arms were still locked behind my back and the hood was still in place.

Then, I felt cold metal being wrapped around my waist. "This is a custom-made chastity belt," I heard her saying. "It is made with specially hardened stainless steel, and it cannot very easily be cut -- not very easily at all. It can only be removed by someone using very high temperature welding equipment. And you wouldn't want anyone to try that, I'm sure." She pushed my bleeding dick down between my legs, and tightly drew the hinged codpiece down over my pubic area. Straps of steel were pulled up from the end of the codpiece down between my legs and then up again, and were locked onto the waist band in back. "There. Now no one will know you once had a dick. And it will certainly not get hard and erect for a long time to come."

She then unlocked and unzipped the leather hood, but left me gagged with her panties filling my mouth. "I want you to see this," she said excitedly.

"Your new chastity belt has two special features," she continued, as if with glee. She sounded as if she were demonstrating a computer part. "It contains a miniature radio transmitter and receiver, which can serve as a homing device, and it also has a special training device, similar to what disobedient dogs wear around their necks. Let me demonstrate this for you."

With that, she picked up a small device, which was the size of a telephone pager, and had a small screen and a red button. "See and feel what happens when I press this button," she said as she showed it to me more closely. Immediately, I felt a dull ache in my groin, which started to grow in intensity until I was bucking furiously. I almost toppled over. She smiled at me and then removed her finger from the button. "It's great how it works. The more I press it, the more pain you feel. It's such a wonderful device!"

"There is also an additional switch next to the button." She continued to explain, "If I press that button, flicking her finger onto it, it will switch a relay in your chastity belt which will continue to shock you, even if you somehow get out of range. That means that you'll end up being damaged beyond repair. Just think about that for a moment...I don't think you'd want me to demonstrate that for you." I shuddered in fear.

She then untied my gag, but left the collar and cuffs on. "We don't want you going anywhere while we get you cleaned up," she said, and led me into the bathroom. She pushed me into the large stall shower, took out a rough sponge, turned the water on, and rudely scraped my skin with the soapy sponge and finally rinsed me off. After she turned off the shower, she opened a large bottle of Nair, spread it all over my body, all over my head, under my arms, into the crack of my ass, and she even got some behind the cod piece, and told me to wait right there. I stood in the shower for about 15 minutes. Finally, she came back and rinsed me off. As the water rand down over me, I saw my hair all over the bottom of the shower. I had become almost hairless all over!

She smoothed some feminine-smelling oil all over my body. "This will soothe you." She paid particular attention to getting some of the oil on my burning dick, and it wasn't easy for her to do that, since it was encased by its stainless steel bindings.

"Now it's time to clean you up inside, too. You wouldn't me to forget that, would you?" she asked teasingly. She led me back to the coffee table, and it was then that I noticed that it had been previously bolted to the floor. She had been preparing for this, and I had fallen into her trap! She took two of the couch cushions and placed it on top of each other on the table. "Lie down, face down, on top of the cushions," she ordered. Without arms to guide me, she had to help me get down into position.

I was lying face down, with my ass up in the air. My head, still unmovable, was pointing downwards. Once again, she locked on my ankle cuffs. With what must have been the strength of someone truly driven, she pulled the chains attached the ankle cuffs and pulled my legs far apart. I heard another click of a lock and I was secured. She attached another long chain to the front of my collar, drew it down under the table and locked it to the chains holding my legs apart. I was once again helpless, fastened down, unable to move.

She walked over to her closet and took out a cane. "I carry this with me because sometimes my sprained ankle hurts," she explained. "But mainly because it won't raise any suspicion." She came back, swinging it in the air. Whish, whish. Back and forth. I was terrified. She positioned herself standing at my side. She brought the cane slowly done to my ass, as if to measure her swing. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lift up the cane and she brought it crashing down on my ass. It sounded like a firecracker. I let out a yelp. "Stay silent or else," she ordered.

Then she walked around to my other side, again measured her swing, raised the cane high above her head and then brought it down on my ass with that horrible loud noise. I struggled to not scream out. "Good, you stayed quiet," she said. "Now only two more strokes...but a dozen more if you dare to utter a sound."

She walked around to the first position, slowly raised the cane and brought it down. I bit my lip to stop from crying out. Then, she walked around to the second side and struck me again. "I do love symmetry," she said.

With that, I could hear putting on rubber gloves and then, opening a tube of lubricant. "We have to examine you now, don't we? Answer me."

"Yes, you have to examine me," I replied mechanically. I would hardly want her to repeat her caning of me.

"You must call me Mistress from now on," she commanded. "Now answer my question the right way."

"Yes, Mistress. You have to examine me," I said.

"Why must I examine you?" she demanded.

This was so humiliating. I thought for an answer that would satisfy her. "Because I was dirty, Mistress. Because my shorts were dirty, Mistress."

"And why must I clean you out?" she asked.

Again, I humbly answered. "Because I was dirty, Mistress. And you want me to be clean."

"Good. You are learning quickly."

She started by pushing one finger into my ass, which had already been distended by the vibrator. "How many fingers are inside you?" she asked.

"One finger, Mistress."

"Should I put another finger in, Sissy?" she asked.

I was confused. She called me "Sissy." "Yes, Mistress," I quickly replied. Why would she call me Sissy?

She slowly placed her second finger in and started to move both fingers in and out. Despite the burning feeling in my manhood, I knew I could not get hard because it was locked in its stainless steel confinement.

"Sissy, would you like me to place another finger in you ass? Please remember to use polite words such as, please, very much, and thank you when you answer me."

"Yes, please use your third finger, Mistress," I replied -- how could I possibly refuse her.

It was harder and more painful when she started to force her third finger into my ass. She was fucking me in my ass and I was being forced to ask her for more. I tried to raise my legs and open up my ass so that I would be able to take in her three fingers. "I see that you're enjoying this. Aren't you, Sissy?"

"Yes, very much, Mistress," I said as she continued to ream me with her fingers.

"Good, Sissy. Would you now like me to use all four fingers?"

"Yes, please, Mistress...please use four fingers," I said with respect, although I was shouting inside, to myself, "No, no! Please stop!"

Her fourth finger joined the others as she continued to pump them in and out and round and round. "Sissy, please thank me for using lubrication," she told me, "for next time you might not be so lucky."

"Thank you very much, Mistress, for using lubrication." I could hardly imagine how painful it would be without it.

She couldn't -- wouldn't -- be stopped. In and out, again and again. My ass was becoming raw inside, despite the lubrication. "Would Sissy like me to use my thumb?" she asked sweetly.

Oh no! She was going to put her whole fist inside of me. I couldn't answer her the way she expected. "Crack!" the cane sang out twice on my ass. "Don't make me have to use on the cane on Sissy's ass, again," she warned.

Her threat to use the cane even more made me quickly answer her. "Yes, Mistress. Please use your thumb and your whole hand."

She pulled her four fingers out, put some extra lubrication on her gloved hand, and then started pushing her fist up into my ass. I squirmed. I couldn't take it all in. I tried to resist but she kept on pressing. Finally, her entire hand went in! She pushed it further in, then out. "Say you love being fist fucked, Sissy. Admit it to your mistress."

I was groaning. I couldn't help it. "Yes, Mistress, I love being fist fucked. Please don't stop."

And she didn't for a long while. Her fist went in and out. Sometimes she flexed her fingers. Other times she rotated her fist as it went in and as it was pulled out. "I just love fist fucking sissies," Mistress explained. "I love to see them squirm and suffer."

Finally, she pulled her fist out and it was over. "Now thank me for fist fucking you."

Although I was inwardly thanking her for stopping, I replied, "Thank you, Mistress. Thank you very much for fist fucking me."

"Why, Sissy...you're very welcome," Mistress answered.

Mistress sat down on the couch and rested for a while. She then said, "I am going to have to gag you now. I'm tired of hearing you."

She brought a rubber gag attached to a belt over to me. "Say ahh", she joked, and then she pushed it into my mouth. She stretched the belt around the back of my head and fastened and locked the belt buckle. "This is an inflatable gag," she explained. She brought over a small hand pump, attached it to a nozzle in the rubber, and started pumping. I felt my mouth expanding. My mouth felt like it was going to split open. "There, just a little more and Sissy's mouth will be nice and quiet." "And full," she added.

She let me lie there, to let me experience my predicament. As if she were reading my mind, she then once again squeezed my nose tight and I couldn't breathe. "You see, I can do anything I want to you." I couldn't even shake my head to make her remove her fingers. She drew her fingers away from my nose, picked up the cane, and gave me six quick whacks on my ass. All I could do was to moan into my new gag.

"See? Now I don't have to listen to you any more."

"Now, I am going to give you the large enema I promised you," she explained. "I am going to let just a little bit more than two quarts of liquid fill you up and I am not going to let you expel it until I think it's the right time. It will probably be much longer than you can imagine, though."

In her saleswoman's voice, she continued. "I will be using what is called a balloon enema tube. It will allow me to fill up your ass with an expandable bulb. Then, after I fill up your insides with our nice, warm, soapy liquid, all of it will be held nicely inside of you. You won't be able to expel any of it until it's time to let it out."

She pushed the end of the enema tube deeply into my ass and then slowly inflated the bulb that would keep all the contents in. She walked into the bathroom and came back with the bag filled up. "This soapy water will fill up Sissy quite nicely," she exclaimed. Then she attached the tube from the bag to the tube in my ass and opened the valve to start the flow.

"I know that will feel nice and silky," she said. "But after holding it awhile, it won't be so pleasant."

I could feel the warm liquid entering my bowels. I was being filled up. There was nothing I could do. She reached up to hold the bag higher, and the inflow of water sped up. I started to cramp. How was I going to hold it in? How was I going to bear it?

Finally, she said, "There, it's all in you now." With that, she removed the tube, tied off the end, and once again picked up the cane.

"And now, an even dozen more strokes of the can for you, Sissy, for being dirty and for making me clean you up inside," she declared. And this time, as before, she slowly measured her swings and brought the cane down full force on my ass. Every time she struck me, I could feel the liquid swishing around inside of me. I was beginning to cramp more horribly, and I knew that was what she had wanted -- to be doubly punished and to suffer as much as possible!

After the twelfth crack on my ass, it was over. "I'm going to go out now, Sissy, because I have to pick up a few extra things. I'm going to have to lock you back into that nasty hood, though. And this time, I am also going to control your hearing." She rolled up several wads of cotton and forced them into my ears. Then, she carried over the black leather hood and pulled it over my gag and over my head. Once again, she tightly zipped it up and locked it even more snugly to the posture collar. "Oh, it fits you so much better now that all of your hair is gone," she remarked. Thankfully, she remembered to adjust the nose holes so that I could breathe.

I was totally isolated. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. I couldn't move my mouth. But I could certainly feel. I could feel my cheeks, which were swollen and inflamed. I could feel the burning from the welts on my ass. I could feel the pain from the repeated whipping on my steel-encased manhood. I could feel the soreness inside my ass, and I could feel the cramps getting stronger. I couldn't let the liquid out! My insides were in turmoil and I was helpless. How long was she going to leave me? What if something happened to her and she didn't come back? I started to moan into my gag. I couldn't stop moaning in pain. There'd be no end to this!

Chapter 3 -- Metamorphosis

It seemed and felt like forever. There I was, locked down onto a coffee table in an anonymous hotel room by a woman whose name I didn't even know. My wrists were tightly bound behind my back by those infernal cuffs that were, at first, so interesting to look at...my arms held at almost an impossible angle by those same custom-made cuffs...wearing a posture collar which made me unable to move or turn my head...forced to hold inside more than two quarts of enema by a huge inflated thing in my ass, my insides bloated and cramping...moaning desperately into an inflatable rubber gag, my mouth bulging, overfilled...wearing a leather hood pulled over my hairless head...unable to see or hear...suffering from numerous huge welts on my ass, made by that horrible cane...and wearing that unforgiving steel chastity belt, which forced my maleness down and back between my legs.

Will she ever come back, I wondered. And what would she do to me next?

Finally, after what seemed like hours -- who could tell? -- I felt movement in the room. I could sense, rather than hear her, or whomever it was, approaching my bruised, abused body.

I could feel the flaps being opened on each side of my hood, and then the cotton wads were removed. Thank goodness I could hear again! "I went out and bought you some things," I heard her cheerfully say. "Actually, I used up all of the money in you wallet...I knew you wouldn't mind."

Damn. She robbed me! She took all of my money! I had almost $300 in cash and she spent it all. I wondered on what.

I couldn't stop from moaning. "Oh, do you hurt inside?" she asked placatingly. Then, abruptly, I felt her strike my ass with the cane. "We wouldn't want those nice purple welts to heal up too quickly, would we?" she said. She took her time between each stroke and struck me six times in all. Throughout this, as I was once again made to move involuntarily with each crashing of the cane on my ass, I could feel the liquid sloshing inside of me, thus making me cramp and ache even more.

After several more fear-filled minutes, I could feel her unlocking the chains holding my collar and ankles down. "It's time to release your enema, but you're going to have to promise not to try anything silly, or you'll be even more severely punished. And do remember that special device on your chastity belt. Moan twice loudly if you understand me." I complied.

She made me stand up, again, stopped me from falling over when I wobbled as I stood up, and made me walk into the bathroom. "Wait just a minute," she ordered. She reached behind me, unlocked the cuffs and told me to turn around. She then proceeded to deflate the bulb holding in the enema and then pushed me down on the toilet seat. Almost immediately, the liquid started gushing out, and I was gasping for air as the cramps slackened. The inside of my ass was on fire. Could she have put something else into that liquid? And then another gush. Eventually, it was all out. I was emptied out.

"There. That's not so bad, is it?" She stood over me as she unlocked and unzipped the hood. She pulled it up over my head. She deflated the gag in my mouth, and unlocked and unbuckled the belt holding it in. She then unlocked the posture collar and I flexed my neck and turned my head, hoping that there wasn't any permanent damage.

"Stay seated right there on the seat. Now, just in case you have forgotten, let me remind you about our chastity belt training device." She picked up her device and pushed the button. Once again, I felt the relentless buildup of pain, and I couldn't stop from bucking my hips as I sat there on the bowl. I looked up at her pleadingly, and I started to beg for her to stop. "Please stop, Mistress," I cried. She slapped me across the face with her free hand and said, "Another five seconds of pain for speaking out without permission. Now count slowly to five."

And out of my mouth from far away, I heard myself saying, "One mistress...two mistress...three mistress...four mistress...five mistress."

It was over. I instinctively grabbed my crotch, bending over. If I could have, I would have laid down in a fetal position. I was totally in her control.

She then allowed me several minutes to "come to" and then made me stand up, and walk to the stall shower once again. "Now that your hands are free, you can clean yourself up. Make sure to wash yourself all over. You must be clean when you come out."

I showered and soaped myself up. The soap had a very flowery fragrance. I washed all over my body and I very carefully and soothingly washed between my legs, up and down my butt crack, and over my ass cheeks. I could see drops of blood washing down with the soapy waste water. I then examined the chastity belt. It wrapped around me so tightly I couldn't even get my little finger between it and my skin. I felt around for the locks and felt that they were recessed and were simply part of the straps locked around my body. I knew I could never get this thing off without her permission. What had she done to me? What WILL she do to me?

I heard her tapping on the glass. "You've had enough time. Turn off the water, dry yourself off and then come out here. Move it." I could feel just a slight punctuation of pain in my groin. She must have pressed that damn button to remind me.

I got out of the shower, picked up the large towel that she had left for me, dried myself off, and walked into the sitting room. I saw that she had removed the cushions from the coffee table and that she had placed some women's clothing and frilly underwear out on it.

"First, let's put some nice powder on your sissy body." She dusted me all over, and I felt the powder soothing those very raw parts of my ass. Powder got all over the floor and, once again as if she were reading my mind, she said, "Don't worry, we won't be back here after tomorrow."

"Second, I want to make you much more aware of your nipples. That's what you like to look at in a woman. Admit it."

"Yes, Mistress. I love women's breasts. Very much." I hadn't forgotten my manners.

Her hand was never far from that fiendish button as she placed a nipple clamp on my left nipple and started to tighten the thumb screw. The tightening started to pinch, and then to hurt even more. "Don't worry, the pain will go away after a while -- after the nipple is fully pierced by these clamps" she laughed. When she was done, she started to work on my right nipple, slowly tightening the thumbscrew until it, too, was so very tight. I started to squirm. "Stand still!" she ordered, and I saw her press the button that emphasized her order with that pain in my crotch.

"This is going to be a very long and painful night, unless you obey. Promise me that you will be good."

"Yes Mistress, I'll try. I'll do anything you want. Please make the pain stop."

Holding the button down, she slapped me twice on the face. "You'd better do better than try."

She picked up what looked like breast-shaped skin colored rubber falsies and placed one over the left nipple clamp. She began to screw the falsie onto and down a pre-threaded post extending outward from the clamp so that it completely covered the clamp. The falsie had the shape of a real breast. She screwed it on even more, which started pulling the clamp inside of the form. As she did, the nipple clamp that so tightly held my nipple was pulled away from my body and into the rubber breast. The base of it, which must have been wrapped around semi-elastic wire, fit snugly against my chest. "A couple of more turns, and then we'll take care of the other one."

It was agony. The sharp points on the nipple clamps started immediately to work their inevitable way through my nipples, while at the same time, my nipples were being pulled away from my body. As she finished tightening the second form, she slapped each of my "breasts." I almost fainted from the pain. "Now thank me for giving you breasts so that you can be my special Sissy."

"Oh, oh, Mistress. Thank you so very much for giving me breasts."

She then picked up the light pink-colored corset lying on the table and drew it around me. She made sure it covered my breast forms, started to lace it up, and said, "This will give you a nice hourglass figure." She continued to tighten the laces, yanking and pulling. She made me raise my hands so that she could tighten the lacing even more. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe, and, yet, she kept on constricting me. "There, almost done, and then we'll lock it on" she said, and then I felt and heard her fasten and close two locks -- one at the top and one on the bottom.

"It's so nice what a tightly-laced, well-boned corset will do to a woman's figure," Mistess remarked. She then picked up a matching pink pair of satiny panties and held them in front of me. "Take these and put them on now."

I bent over as much as the corset allowed me and slipped the panties onto my legs. "Go ahead, pull them up -- that's all you'll be allowed to wear from now on."

I pulled the satin panties up my legs. They fit snugly over my chastity belt as the waist band snapped against my skin. Even though my manhood had been whipped and beaten, I still felt a stirring. But I knew it could never become erect unless Mistress allowed it.

"That's good. Now step back. I want to take some pictures of my Sissy."

She picked up a Polaroid camera and aimed it at me. After several flashes, she put the camera down. "These will be look great in our picture album."

She then told me to sit down on the couch. She directed me to apply pink nail polish to my toenails, the same color as my pale pink panties and corset. It wasn't easy, since the corset made it hard to bend over and my breathing was already labored. As my toenails dried, she had me file and then apply the pink nail polish to my finger nails. "You're going to be such a beautiful Sissy," Mistress gushed.

She then showed me how to roll up each pink stocking and pull them up over my toenails, ankles and legs without snagging -- and then to make sure that they were straight, and without wrinkles. Finally, I had to stand up and I was taught how to attach the stockings to the tabs hanging from the corset. I had to then pose for yet another picture.

"Put on the your skirt," I was directed. It was white leather and was extremely short. As I pulled it up over my stocking-covered legs, again I felt the stirrings. I zipped it closed and she came over and placed a little silver lock through two eyelets and the zipper. The skirt barely covered my panties and my ass! The bottom of my crotch was only inches from the bottom of the skirt. "If you bend over at all...and you will," Mistress added, "anyone will be able to see your fine purple welts through your thin pink satiny panties."

She held out what looked like a silky camisole. I pulled it over my head and it floated down over my shoulders. It had thin white spaghetti straps and barely covered the top of my corset. The pink corset stays and laces could be seen through the thin silky camisole. "Time for another picture," Mistress said. And I posed.

I was then told to turn around and face away from her. She picked up the custom-made handcuffs and quickly fastened them around my wrists. "I won't pull your elbows together this time...unless you give me some cause," she warned.

I was made to sit down in a chair. She quickly pierced each ear twice, without using any ice or pain killer. She dabbed the holes with alcohol and then inserted two pairs of large gold hoop earrings. I could feel them flapping against my neck whenever I moved my head. She placed a blond wig on my head and glued it to my scalp. She then used shaving cream on me and carefully shaved my face. "We're going to have to do some electrolysis on you."

She then applied eye liner and eye shadow. and followed with deep red lipstick. She finished up with some blush and face powder. "Now stand up," she said, as she took several more pictures.

"Oh, you can't very well walk around in stockinged feet," Mistress warned. "Here, try on these shoes. They ought to fit you."

She picked up a pair of white high-heeled shoes which had four-inch long spiked heels. How was I ever going to walk in these? "Stand up on the coffee table and let me get them on you," she commanded.

I stepped up on the table and then lifted my right leg. I thought momentarily of rebelling, and I realized that even if I could have kicked her, my arms were still locked together behind me and the chastity belt had its special punishment device. I knew that I would be severely reprimanded if I had tried. She slipped the right shoe on my foot, fastened the strap and locked on another tiny silver lock. I stood up on that one shoe and almost teetered off the table. She held me as I regained my balance. She then put the left shoe on my foot and locked it on. My pink toenails showed through my stockings at the front of my shoes.

"Now stand straight and turn around." I faced away from her. "Bend over and touch your toes...quickly, now!" I did the best I could; with the constriction of corset, I could hardly reach my knees. "Grab your knees and stay still! Keep your balance!" My ass was directly in front of her and my pink panties showed below my skirt. She lifted my skirt back over my waist and then pulled my panties down to my stocking line. This was so humiliating.

"I want to examine you. Reach behind you and grab your ass cheeks and spread them for me." I could hear her snapping on a rubber glove, and I watched as she slowly applied some lubrication on her fingers. Then, I felt two or three fingers enter me -- I didn't know how many -- and she moved them around and in and out. "Good, you're clean and you're still wide open. We'll have to make sure you keep it that way."

She picked up a large 6-inch dildo with a knob on one end and a metal loop on the other. "You will be locking this dildo inside of your ass every day from now on. It will only come out when I say it should." She instructed me to put a generous amount of lubrication on it, and then to reach around and insert it in my ass. I must have taken too long, for I felt the now familiar pain in my groin for just a moment. I quickly pushed in as far as it would go.

"Now feel for two tiny holes on the steel straps that pass right near your ass." I found each hole. "Take this special lock," she ordered me, "run the hasp through the hole on the strap on the right, through the eyelet on your dildo, and then through the hole in the strap on the left strap." I fumbled several times to find the holes since it wasn't easy to do this without seeing what I was doing. I hoped that she wouldn't repeat her reminder of pain. "Are you done, now? Close the hasp into the lock."

"Click!" She had made me lock my own 6-inch dildo inside my ass. "You'll get much better at doing it in the future," she noted evenly. The dildo was deep inside of me, but it couldn't go in any further and it certainly couldn't come out. "Now stand up, pull up your panties, and turn around and face me!"

Then, she brought over the dog whip that had so severely bruised my manhood, and warned me not to move. She told me to spread my legs apart and make sure to keep them that way. "I want you to look down at you nice new clothes, your pink stockings and your high-heeled shoes as I punish you." She lifted up my skirt, and very slowly and deliberately whipped the inside part of each thigh, on the skin between my panties and my stockings, causing thin red, oozing, welts to appear. After twenty wicked slashes -- I had been forced to count, and to duly thank Mistress for each one -- I was allowed, and helped, to step down off the table.

As she unlocked my cuffs, she announced, "Now it's time to learn how to walk like a sissy whore." I looked at her in surprise. She smiled. "That'll be your new name from now on. And that's the service that you'll be performing for me. And, from now on, in your speech and in your thoughts, I am, and will forever be, your Mistress."

She once again picked up the device. "I want you to walk like the sissy whore that you have become. When you walk, I want you to place one foot in front of the other and I want you to swivel your hips, and I want you to make sure you feel that nicely greased dildo moving around inside your ass. I want you to feel your thighs rubbing against each other, and I want you to feel those nasty welts I just gave you. I want you to stick out your new breasts and be proud of them."

I could barely stand up and felt the familiar tingling reminder between my legs as I saw her press the button. "Hurry up and do it," Mistress ordered. Stumbling and staggering, I started to walk slowly to the end of the room. "Turn slowly around and walk back towards me. Hold your head proudly and high or else we'll use something that will."

I remembered wearing the horrible posture collar, and vowed to myself to please her. I just couldn't stand any more punishments.

So I walked back and forth in the room. Away from her, and then, turning slowly around, back towards her. Occasionally, when I displeased her, I felt the familiar tingling, and then pain, in my groin.

After an hour of walking lessons, Mistress had me open her door to go out into the hallway of the hotel. "Walk all the way down to the end," she ordered. When I got to the end, I felt the pain in my groin and started to double over when it wouldn't go away. I knew that she wanted to show me how far the radio device could reach, and to realize that there was no way I could get away. When the pain subsided, I walked back towards her. Back and forth. How long could this possibly last?

Chapter 4 -- Out on the Town

My feet and legs were sore. I was laced and locked into an overly tight pink corset, which was holding in, in turn, rubber breast forms that covered sharp nipple clamps which were inexorably piercing my nipples. I was being made to walk in 4-inch stiletto heels...showing my stockinged feet and painted toenails...to walk like a cheap whore on the make... up and down a hotel hallway...dressed in the shortest white leather miniskirt which barely covered my crotch and my pink panties...and which barely hid the welts of the ruthless beatings of her harsh cane. I was wearing my new white satiny camisole top with its spaghetti straps......my new blond wig...my newly pierced ears with the flapping hoop earrings...my painted eyes and face and my grotesquely-painted red-lipsticked mouth! And under it all...under that entire visage...the huge dildo inside my ass that was locked to that horrible chastity belt with its electronically activated punishment device.

The elevator stopped. Out came a well-dressed elderly couple. They looked at me in wonderment. Mistress quickly announced, "He's a sissy whore in training."

"Walk, Sissy Whore. Show them your stroll." I began walking, as ordered, and they watched me for a while and then laughed. Then, they walked on towards their room.

"You see, no one cares about you. No one knows who you are...or were." I couldn't believe that in the space of an evening, she had transformed me into what I had become -- a fully cross-dressed, totally enslaved, sissy whore.

"It's time to go and earn your keep. Stay out here and don't move." Mistress went into back into her room. I was left standing in the hallway. I could try to run, but I knew I wouldn't get far. I had no money, and no identification. How could I quickly get away? How could I explain what happened to me? How would I be able to get out of the chastity belt?

Minutes passed. Doors opened and closed and other hotel guests passed by me. Some looked at me as if I were a carnival side show. Two men stopped near me and leered at me. One whispered, "Cheap whore" to me and reached out and grabbed my breast. A sharp stab of pain, and I almost fainted! I realized the nipple clamps were going to be working their way all the way through. They laughed, and then they walked on. Embarrassed, I looked quickly down at the floor, but then remembered Mistress's warning. I quickly held my head up high.

Mistress finally opened the door and came out, holding her cane. She was dressed all in black. How appropriate, I thought! She was wearing tight black leather pants, and a black leather studded vest. She was wearing 2-inch high heeled black shoes. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. On her black studded belt, she had attached her dog whip on one side and her cattle prod on the other. In the back, she had placed the handcuffs in a leather pouch. She was wearing her infernal button device like one would wear a beeper, hooked onto the edge of the pocket on her pants. She had made herself up so that the skin on her face was porcelain white, and she had red lipstick on, just like mine, except that hers looked ladylike. On top of her head, she jauntily wore a black motorcycle cap, with her hair flowing out from the back. She was gorgeous. In other circumstances, I would have wanted to fuck her right then and there, except for my unfortunate and inescapable predicament.

"Okay, it's time for some fun," she laughed. We went down in the elevator and when it stopped on the ground floor, she grabbed my hand to walk like teen-aged lovers, or, more aptly, like a mother and child, through the lobby. Heads turned and people stared. "Remember how to walk," she said loudly to me, loud enough to be heard by all. "Rotate those hips...keep your sissy whore head up high." I heard murmurings and then laughter. I saw some people shake their heads in disgust.

Then, we were out the door and into the street. I heard lewd catcalls as the city's "worst" turned to watch me stroll. Mistress smiled at them and shook her head up and down approvingly. I knew she was pleased.

She ordered me to stop and stand right there on the corner. "Don't dare move." I had to endure more catcalls and insults. Several teen-aged boys stop to watch. One of them came over, reached under my miniskirt, and grabbed and caressed my ass. I couldn't do anything to stop them.

Meanwhile, Mistress walked to the other end of the block, turned around, and waved at me. She raised her hand and extended a finger and then I felt the familiar pain in my groin. I almost bent over double. She then turned, and walked another block away and did the same thing -- arm up, finger extended, and then the pain. I then saw a taxicab stop next to her and she got in. The taxicab disappeared from view.

Meanwhile, I had suffer through more name calling. Other men came over to stare at me and to feel my body all over. One of them walked right up to me, and grabbed at my crotch, while trying to kiss me with a beery, smoky mouth. At that moment, a taxicab pulled up next to me, and Mistress got out. "That's enough...get in," Mistress said in a dominating tone. "Sissy Whore belongs to me." Mistress then took me by the arm and helped me into the cab. I was terrified and shaking.

"West Street," she said to the driver. I could see him looking back at me in the rear view mirror, and then chuckling, almost silently, to himself.

"I just want you to realize, Sissy Whore, that all that you have in the world, now, is me." I wanted to cry; I was so afraid. "All you are, you must realize, is a piece of meat that I own, and can do with whatever I please."

"Now compose yourself," Mistress ordered. "Take some deep breaths." I sat there in the cab, trying to get hold of myself. It was difficult to take in more than half breaths because of the corset.

The cab stopped and let us out. I saw prostitutes -- men and women -- and men dressed like women -- and some dressed like me, I horrifyingly realized -- walking up to cars that had slowed down and stopped. I saw several talking to the drivers of the cars, obviously negotiating and transacting business. Others got into the cars, which drove away to do what they were going to do. We watched for a while, and then Mistress turned to me and said, "This is where you will end up if I become displeased with you."

One of transvestites came over to me, and looked me over. In an effeminate drawl, he/she asked, "Oooh, is this a new girl out to make some money?" Mistress laughed and replied, "Not yet...not for a while, anyway."

After a few moments, we walked down the block to a bar. "It's time to for you to make some money for me," she said. I had to carefully walk down several stairs to get to the front door and then through the door into the darkness. My eyes had to get accustomed to the dimness and then I looked around. This was one very rough trade bar. All eyes turned to us.

Mistress stood there until she had everyone's attention and then loudly announced, "My virgin sissy whore will blow anyone in this place for five dollars." I was mortified. There was a murmur of reaction. She made me stroll to the back of the room and had me get down on my knees and turn face the crowd. "Who's first...step right up." There was a jostling and one guy, dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans and combat boots, strutted over to us. All of his buddies were watching.

"Since this is Sissy Whore's first blowjob, this one'll be free," Mistress again announced. The men started to laugh and cheer.

"Come on over...don't be shy," she told black shirt. Mistress positioned him so that his crotch was right in front of my face. She turned to me and instructed, "Okay, roll down his zipper and pull out his dick."

I reached towards him, opened his zipper and reached for his maleness, which was becoming aroused. It was becoming even more erect in my hand. I pulled it out. "Give the tip of his dick a nice kiss with your juicy red lips," Mistress directed, and I did. I had never done this kind of thing before and, yet, I couldn't stop what she was doing to me.

"Now grab his ass and pull his dick into your mouth. Make sure to make it really wet as it goes in. Don't you dare gag when it goes all the way in."

All eyes were on us as I slowly drew his manhood into my mouth. When it got far in, I couldn't help gagging and everyone laughed. Mistress laughed, too. She must have let that infraction pass by because and I was really glad that she didn't press the button to activate her pain maker.

"Now that you know how far is too far, I want you to give him the best blowjob of your life," Mistress demanded. "I want you to keep his dick nice and wet as it goes in and out of your sissy whore mouth. And, I want you to swallow his cum when he's done."

I looked up at black shirt and he smiled to me. Everyone was watching with rapt attention. He grabbed the back of my head to more quickly control my head and to move it back and forth. I was forced to service him, on my knees in my new sissy whore ensemble. His dick went in and out. I grabbed his buttocks to hold on to him. I could feel his gyrations increase and he finally held my head tightly as he came deeply in my mouth. I swallowed down the salty, slimy liquid as quickly as I could. I heard applause and cheers.

"Now lick him clean and again kiss the tip of his dick as a thank you," Mistress ordered.

Mistress took lipstick out from her pocket and again painted my lips with the grotesque red color. You'll redo your own lipstick next time. She then announced, "The next one will cost five bucks...who's next?"

Another man came over, and handed her a five-dollar bill. "Introduce yourself to the man," Mistress directed.

"Hello, my name is Sissy Whore, and my Mistress would like me to give you a blowjob," I said.

I felt the pain in my groin. "YOU want to give him the blowjob...now say it!" Mistress warned.

It was bad enough being forced to do what I was doing, but I so humiliated, being chastised like that. I complied by saying, "Yes, I want to give you a blowjob. Let me open your zipper and kiss the head of your penis."

I went through this exercise countless times during that night. So many different anonymous dicks...being forced to have them move, wet and slick, in and out of my mouth...holding on to their asses...having them hold my head...having them ejaculate deeply in my mouth...and then having to swallow their cum.

After hours of this, I heard the bartender announce, "Closing time." It must have been approaching four in the morning. How long would this go on?

Mistress said, "You did nicely for us. We made almost one hundred dollars. Now, we'll give you something to wash that taste out of your mouth."

She made me get up. My knees and legs were sore. My mouth and jaw were throbbing in pain. She walked me into the men's bathroom. "Don't you worry...this is a liberal sort of place," Mistress snickered.

Mistress reached around to her pouch and took out the handcuffs. She then made me kneel down on the wet floor in front of the urinal. She locked my left wrist into the cuff, pulled my wrist under my legs, inside the fold of my knees, and then held down my right wrist and attached it to the cuff. My locked wrists held me in a kneeling position. She then pushed me back and positioned me so that the back of my neck was right up against the bottom lip of the urinal. She took a length of cord out of a pocket, drew it under my chin, and pulled it up and around the piping above the urinal, stretching my head up and back. Then she tied it off in a knot. A feeling of dread was quickly enveloping me. "There'd better be no complaints," Mistress instructed.

"Please, Mistress. Please don't make me do this," I implored.

"Nonsense. This is all that you're good for," Mistress said as she sneered at me. "After all, all you are is a worthless piss-drinking sissy whore."

Then she smiled and said, "Oops, I almost forgot." Out of her pocket she drew out a metal ring, surrounded by rubber, which was about two inches in diameter. "Open your mouth wide!" she commanded. She positioned the ring inside my mouth so that my teeth fit into grooves in the rubber. She then inserted what looked like old roller skate keys into each side of this ring and started to turn the keys. As I heard what sounded like ratchet clicks, my jaws were forced to open even wider. I was helpless... I couldn't move my head; I couldn't close my mouth. "Good, that will keep your mouth wide open. Now don't forget to swallow!"

And then she walked out, leaving me there, unable to move, on my knees on that dirty, urine stained tile floor.

A few minutes later, a man came in, looked at me and laughed. He came over to me, opened his zipper, pulled out his dick and stuck it deep in my mouth. I felt a stream of his hot, salty piss going down my throat. I could hardly breathe and I swallowed as fast as I could. When he was done, he patted the side of my cheek, saying, "Good girl," and left.

After that, there was a steady procession of men into the bathroom. Some came just to watch and cheer. Some of them purposely pissed all over my face. Some of it went into my eyes and stung; other piss went up my nose. A lot of it was sprayed all over my clothes and down under my corset. My aching nipples stung from the salty liquid. Even though I was becoming sick to my stomach, I proudly held my head up high, as Mistress commanded, and took in all that I could.

Then, abruptly, it was over. Mistress came in, looked at me and laughingly said, "You smell like piss. and you look like shit. Your makeup and lipstick are all smeared." And she slapped me twice on my face to emphasize her point. "C'mon, it's time to go back." She cut the rope, unlocked my wrists and helped me get up. But she kept that horrible mouth dilater fastened inside my mouth. She hailed a cab for us and we went back to the hotel. The driver almost refused to drive us, but relented when Mistress promised to double the fare. He had to open the windows wide because of the reeking odor.

The few people we passed remaining in the hotel at that early hour all turned around, to look at Mistress and her sissy whore, and to also find out where the stench was coming from. I saw many of them turning away in disgust and revulsion after also seeing me with my mouth kept wide open, like a circus freak.

Finally, we were in the elevator on the way up to Mistress's hotel room.

Chapter 5 -- Now and Forever

Thankfully, nobody rode up with us in the elevator. Mistress used her passcard to open the lock and we entered her room. "I'm so excited about tonight and turning you into my sissy whore that I can hardly sleep," she exclaimed.

Mistress walked over and sat down on the couch. She directed me to take my special cuffs from her, fasten my wrists behind my back and to then stand before her, with my mouth agape. "I'm not going to tighten your elbows together this time. But do not dare to turn away from me, or interrupt me."

Then she began, in an officious, yet ominous tone: "Here's what's going to happen to you, and to us. As you already know, you are only a worthless, piss-drinking sissy whore. You're dressed in the clothes of a whore and you made almost a hundred dollars for me, as a whore, servicing the men in the bar. You avoided unimaginable punishment from me by learning quickly how to satisfy them by giving them blowjobs."

"Consider what you have on right now," Mistress continued. And she enumerated: "You're wearing a very short white leather miniskirt that hardly covers your ass and crotch. You're wearing a white sexy, silky camisole that barely hides your cleavage. You're wearing four-inch spiked heels that are locked onto your feet. Your pink stockings are attached to that very tight pink corset that is laced severely and then locked on you. That pink corset is holding in two very pretty breast forms that are hiding those wonderful self- tightening nipple clamps. When I take them off, and it won't be for a while, your nipples will be well pierced, and then I'll attach internally locking rings to them."

She gave that some time to sink in before she continued. "And you're totally in my control. You're wearing a chastity belt that cannot be removed without my approval. If you misbehave, or simply for my own amusement, I can cause you ever-increasing exquisite pain by pressing this little button." She picked up her device, placed her finger on the button, and I tightened by legs in horrible anticipation. She chuckled. "You see?"

Then she laughed. "Oh, poor thing. You're trying to answer but you can't." She undid my mouth extender. I could barely close my mouth. It felt paralyzed. "Close your mouth. Do it now," Mistress commanded.

And then she continued. "You were made to insert a wonderful six-inch long dildo that will keep your asshole nicely open. And is that dildo still inside you, locked to your chastity belt?"

"Yes, Mistress. It's still inside me," I replied.

"And what are you wearing over your chastity belt? Mistress asked.

"Mistress, I'm wearing my silky pink panties."

"And do you love wearing them?"

"Yes, Mistress, I love wearing my panties," I replied. After all, how could I refuse?

"Good. Because from now on, you will be wearing only your sissy whore clothing. And you're going to provide for us by being turned into my own wonderful sissy whore sex slave. You'll do whatever I want to whomever I say -- whenever and wherever."

"You see, I'm sick of smiling sweetly at horny, conniving men at computer shows who ask insipid, stupid questions about my company's products when the only thing on their minds is getting into my pants." Her words stung as if she had slapped me on my face. "And I knew I'd be able to find a dumb, thoughtless little shit like you at the computer show to turn into my new sissy whore."

Mistress went into the bedroom, and brought back a huge heavy cloth sack, which looked like an oversized mail bag. She placed it at my feet. "Lift up your right foot," Mistress commanded. "Don't you love it when your pretty pink nail polish glistens through your stockings?" Mistress asked.

I replied immediately by saying, "I love my pink nail polish that Mistress makes me have." With a nod of approval, Mistress unlocked the tiny silver lock on the shoe buckle and took off my shoe. Then she did the same for the other foot. My feet felt so relieved, now that they were out of those hideous high heeled shoes.

Mistress bent over to open the bag. "Step quickly into the bag," she ordered. "C'mon, left foot up, then right foot. Don't make me punish you!"

She worked the bag up over my legs, my waist, then up to my shoulders. She loosely tightened the drawstring at my neck. I looked at her in horror when she picked up another gag. This time, it wasn't the inflatable rubber gag, but, instead, a penis gag. "Since you love sucking cock, you should be used to this by now," she said, laughingly, as she pushed the rubber penis into my mouth and buckled the strap around my head. "We don't want you crying out, do we?" Mistress said rhetorically. I moaned in desperation.

Mistress then went back into the bedroom and dragged out a black steamer trunk with a large red and white "books" label pasted on the side. Its dimensions were about four feet by three feet by two feet. As she opened it, I could see shiny black material lining the insides. I was startled. Oh no! She couldn't...she wouldn't! She wasn't going to put me in there!

But I was wrong. With my wrists locked behind me, I couldn't even begin to struggle. Mistress had planned this well -- too well. I would only hurt myself if I had tried. And, then, she could always press that horrible button.

Mistress pushed over the trunk and smiled up at me. She then loosened the drawstring on the bag and quickly pulled it over my head. She tightened it and then I heard the click of a lock. I was plunged into total darkness.

I felt her push me backwards into a sitting position onto what must have been the coffee table. With surprising strength, she then maneuvered me down and into the trunk. Bending my legs and folding down my neck, I was forced into a fetal position. Then, I felt the trunk being closed, and I heard it being locked.

After what seemed like hours, I felt the trunk being lifted up, and I heard my Mistress say, in a very muffled voice, that there were only books in the trunk. I felt the trunk being dropped to the floor and then, shortly after, I was suddenly at an odd angle, since the trunk must have been uprighted and placed on a hand truck. I sensed movement and the whoosh in my stomach as I assumed I was being taken downward in the elevator.

More movement...a sense of being lifted -- into a car? -- a truck? -- a van? I was in darkness; I was breathing rancid, piss-filled air -- the piss odor coming from all over me. Despite the agony of my torturous cramped position...of my bindings...of my penis gag...of my cruel chastity belt...of my locked-in dildo...of my aching nipples...of my bruised and battered body...I eventually fell into a fretful, troublesome sleep. I couldn't begin to recall the fearsome images and nightmares that plagued me.

The alarm clock went off, as it did every morning at eight. I had been allowed to sleep in my own bed last night, though each nipple ring was chained and locked to its own side of the bed and my arms were fastened to their loops tied to each side of the chastity belt. Mistress was becoming more intent on keeping absolute control over me and continued to find numerous ways to enslave and dominate me.

Mistress came in cheerily, which might or might not be a good sign for today. She gushed, "Do you know what today is?"

I looked up at her. I had no idea what she was getting at. "It's our first anniversary," she replied. "A year ago today, I began turning you into my little sissy whore."

Was it that long? Could that much time have passed? And then the memories came flooding back at me:

During the first few days with her, there was an almost unending round of chastisements and punishments. Mistress worked hard to train me to please her without question, and without any hesitation.

I was forced to urinate sitting down, for Mistress refused to remove the chastity belt. I was taught to apply my own makeup and nail polish, and to clean and care for our "fine washables." It was my job to do all the housework and cleaning. I learned what Mistress's schedule for me was, such as what time I had to insert the dildo into my ass and lock it to the chastity belt...such as when I was scheduled to orally please her...such as when I had to prepare to receive a whipping or caning, by fastening my own bindings, chains, handcuffs or locks, just because she enjoyed inflicting pain so much.

Mistress had made me sign over all of my possessions, my bank accounts, and the few stocks which I had inherited from my parents. She made me sign a power-of-attorney allowing her access to my safe deposit box, which contained very little besides a returned engagement ring and some gold jewelry. She threatened to request a credit check to make sure I wasn't holding out on her. She made me type up and send off a letter of resignation, for personal reasons, effective immediately, from my job. I hadn't had a high-ranking job and I didn't think that I'd be missed much, anyway.

I remember spending hours in the afternoon basking -- or should I say, "basting?" -- in the hot sun in her front yard, in plain view of all passersby, wearing a bikini bathing suit so that I would develop indelible tan lines -- and the color of the suit always had to be the brightest pink so that I could not fail to attract attention. Or the nights I had to sleep nude on the hard concrete floor in her basement, or shivering in my sissy whore clothes while tied to a tree until dawn.

I remember being left for hours on end, hanging by my outspread arms from rafters overhead, with my feet pulled apart from below. Often I was whipped or caned or flogged unmercifully while tied up, before being tied up, or after she let me loose. Other times, I was forced to hold in an enema, while I cramped and moaned in pain into my gag, as my stomach became horribly distended.

I remember having to repeat, on countless nights, my first unforgettable experience in the rough trade bar of our first night together -- of having to give blowjobs at five dollars a pop, and then being trussed up in front of the urinals afterwards -- to have to accept, without question, the debasement of being urinated upon.

I remember being dropped off on more than several late evenings to be put out on the "stroll," which meant that I had to earn money working as a street walker in my sissy whore clothes down near the docks, or near the busy interstate, or by turning tricks at a truckstop. I was made to suck innumerable dicks of all sizes and colors until I earned my keep and Mistress relented and picked me up. Sometime she punished me severely for not earning "enough."

I remember being leased to a group of Asian "businessmen" who found extra pleasure in hearing me scream from the unendurable pain they inflicted on me from the "wonderful hot kisses," as they put it, of American cigarettes. I found out later that Mistress accepted extra money so that they could permanently burn their brands onto my ass and the bottom of my feet. I couldn't walk for days after that.

I remember visiting the petting farm, a tourist attraction, which belonged to one of Mistress's friends, and the humiliation of being fastened down in the breeding barn in order to suck a bull's huge penis until he ejaculated in my mouth. Another bull was brought over for me to orally excite, and after, he was turned around and then I had to endure the pain of having him impale me deep in my ass.

I remember the many "parties" I was brought to, where I was rented out to act as hostess, French maid and all around playtoy, and where I was forced to sexually service guests of both sexes in the most denigrating, degrading and humiliating ways.

And I remember, too, the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach when Mistress had gone out for the evening and left me fastened to any one of her infernal devices -- her whipping post, her exercise horse, or even stretched out on her rack -- and to know that she would be pleasuring, or be pleasured by, someone else. And then later on, and often much later, I was made to service her -- to worship her -- by obediently and reverently lapping at her cunt with my tongue, and cleaning out the cum left in it by her lover.

Mistress slapped my face and I returned from my reverie. "Today's a special day. You've done well for us and I'm going to reward you."

She unfastened my cuffed wrists from my chastity belt but then used chains to attach them to the top two corners of the bed. She locked leather cuffs to my ankles and used chains to draw them to the other two corners. She then unlocked my nipple rings.

I was stretched out, face up, spread-eagled, on the bed. Mistress got on top of me, straddled me, and started to twist and manipulate the nipple rings. It had been obvious for a while that my nipples had gotten larger, as well as my breasts. I needed progressively thinner breast forms to fill out the cups of my corset or my bra. "Those hormone pills have been working miracles on your body," Mistress said as she looked down at me. "Aren't you glad that I've been taking care of you so well?"

Indeed, she had. She had made sure that I was well fed and that I had properly taken my vitamins, as she put it. She had made sure, all along, that my welts, my cuts, my abrasions -- all of the injuries that were inflicted on me by her and by myriad others -- were cared for and treated. And she had dressed me in the softest leather and the silkiest underthings.

Mistress dismounted, reached around to my waist and slowly unlocked my chastity belt. She pulled it out from behind, lifted it up closer to her face, and carefully examined it, saying, "It looks like your steel chastity belt has held up really well. It's certainly worth what we paid for it." She pulled my penis out and up from the place between my legs where it had been forced to remain for the past year and started to caress it lovingly and tenderly. I felt a yearning in my loins, but my manhood stayed small and shriveled. "I see I'm going to have to cut down on those pills," Mistress noted.

She then opened a tube of lubrication and began to rub me up and down. I started to become erect. "I want to feel you inside of me." She then reached over, picked up a small leather strap and tied it tightly around my cock and balls and this made me much more erect. "Mmmm...that'll keep you erect...just the way I like it."

She then mounted me, warning me not to get there until it was time. The strap kept me hard as she began riding me. She yanked and grabbed at my nipple rings until I screamed at her for mercy. She slapped my face, though more lightly than usual. I felt the heat growing between her legs and I felt her increasing sense of urgency. Then she started bucking even harder, and then she yelled, "Now!" and we both came -- wonderfully and explosively -- together.

I lay there, spent. Even as Mistress swivelled around on top of me so that I would be compelled to service her orally and to lick out my cum, I felt sated and, I have to admit, loved. Despite all the indignities, despite the pain and the humiliations and the degradations, I loved my Mistress. I provided for her -- for us -- and, in return, she loved me in her own special way. She took care of my needs and all I had to do, in return, was to subjugate myself fully to her. All I had to do was to give away my will to her.

"Happy anniversary, Sissy Whore," Mistress said, as she loosened the strap around my penis, which slowly shrank back to its former state. She waited a few minutes and then, once again, picked up my chastity belt. I begged her to let my manhood stay free and unencumbered, but I knew, down deep, that she wouldn't.

Mistress's mind was unchanged. "You know you really need me to lock you back into your chastity belt. I know that you cannot live without it. Admit it to me!"

I was forced to say it out loud to my Mistress -- I was obliged to say I wanted and needed to wear the chastity belt, my ultimate sign of subservience -- and then I had to thank her once again as she dragged my penis down between my legs and locked it back onto me.

And it was then that I knew that she had, indeed, taken my will -- and my soul and my heart and my love -- and that I had allowed her to do it -- willingly, fully and without any remorse. And we kissed.

Fin