There is something strangely instinctive in the way she adapts to the presence of this hot, angry length inside her mouth. The bulbous, throbbing head presses her tongue down, but her saliva lubricates easily and reduces the sense of gagging that accompanied her first sensations.
Then she begins to move her head, to establish a careful but relaxed rhythm and tease him towards orgasm. His moans quickly become louder and deeper and her sense of control over the process of stimulating him to ejaculation is complete. As she intensifies the rhythm, she uses her tongue to caress the base of his hot, trapped cock. There is a strangely sadistic urge to nibble, to bite, to inflict a sudden, stunning pain at the point of absolute and uncontrollable pleasure. It is an urge she only just manages to resist before he explodes with volcanic intensity.
‘Fuuuuuucckk!’
His scream of fundamental animal pleasure bounces off the walls like a loud, brutal slap. She grips his broad, muscular thighs, almost as if trying to prevent herself being washed away on a wave of thick, creamy cum. The hot liquid crashes against the back of her mouth. She tastes salty steel and finds herself with no other option but to swallow it down into the heart of her. It is like speed-drinking a pint of beer, and for a few moments she begins to choke. But then he has finished the jerking, gasping coming and she manages to extract herself with a cry of alarm. She falls back on to the carpet. He falls back on to the bed. Cum trickles from her mouth, over her chin and down her neck. Her cock presses violently into the front of the grey tights.
The taste of him seems to consume her body, as if she has been ecstatically poisoned. His pungent male flavour combines with the raw masculine scents of his body to form a lingering and terribly powerful impression of Richard, the powerful, dominant yet vulnerable man who is now, surely, her lover. Her lover! She can hardly believe it.
He is lying on his back, on the bed, his arms spread out in an image of sex crucifixion. His eyes are closed; his mouth is open. His chest is rising and falling like some spastic bellows. Then his eyes open and he looks up at her, a smile of helpless satisfaction spreading across his handsome face.
‘That was amazing,’ he whispers. ‘Utterly amazing.’
She smiles at him, weak, dazed, her cock still granite rock-hard. ‘I need to clean myself up.’
His smile widens. ‘So do I.’
The shower is almost as exciting as the blow job. Beneath a wall of hot, steaming water, Richard insists on using one of Eve’s large, circular sponges to cover the she-male’s silken body in a thick layer of scented soap. Within seconds, her cock is even harder and she is moaning with heart-wrenching pleasure. Richard pays particular attention to the she-male’s impressive sex and whispers words of teasing encouragement as it stirs restlessly in his warm, wet hands.
‘There, there,’ he whispers. ‘Time for you to come back out of the box.’
Then, to Eve’s further surprise and intense pleasure, Richard slips a hand between her legs and gently slides his index finger between the she-male’s tight, girlish bottom. The finger quickly seeks out her anus and begins to work its way inside.
Eve lets out a squeal of shock and delight and relaxes slightly to allow Richard to probe deeper.
‘Feel good?’ he asks, pressing his beautifully muscular and water-slicked body closer to hers.
Eve nods helplessly and moans louder. Richard laughs and presses a little harder.
‘It’ll be a little while before we can get my cock in here. But we can work on it, in the coming weeks.’
Her cock rises up and she is seconds away from exploding. These teasing words drive her towards the very edge of sex madness and uncontrollable orgasm. But Richard is clearly experienced in the matter of cock control and, seconds before the point of no return, he removes his soapy finger and sends the sexy she-male plunging into a vat of terrible frustration.
After the shower, they spend another erotic twenty minutes drying each other’s bodies. Eve studies Richard’s impressive form with wide, sex-maddened eyes and he teases the she-male relentlessly.
‘You look really gorgeous, Eve. Even like this you are so perfectly feminine.’
Eve smiles nervously and blushes furiously, her hard cock a simple and inescapable confession of how much she is enjoying being with Richard.
Then they dress. Richard slowly dons his simple male attire and asks Eve to dress for him – the exact opposite of the striptease.
‘Impress me, my sexy little she-he,’ he teases.
Eve, still naked, smiles. Yes, this will be a simple matter: dressing for this strange and beautiful man, creating a new Eve for his entertainment and arousal.
From beneath the dressing table, she takes a pair of pink patent-leather, stiletto-heeled court shoes. She slips her feet into them and is immediately elevated by four inches. Then, otherwise naked, she wiggle minces across the room in front of Richard and enters the wardrobe, her perfectly formed and very feminine backside performing an erotic and deliberately teasing dance of desire.
From inside the wardrobe, she extracts a white satin-panelled body-shaper, a white nylon sweater and a pink leather mini-skirt. She returns to the bedroom and places the clothes down on the bed, where Richard is once again sitting, her stiff, considerable sex swaying before her like a totem pole dedicated to she-male beauty. As she turns, she smiles briefly and promisingly at her new lover.
From the chest of drawers she extracts a pair of white silk panties and a pair of white nylon tights. She carefully lowers herself on to the dressing table stool and places the tights on the floor. She draws the panties up her long, silken legs, which she stretches out before her to accentuate their intensely erotic contours. When the panties are in position, she returns to the bed and takes up the virginal body-shaper. Then, standing close to Richard, she draws the ingenious, transformative device up her legs and over her body. Once the shaper is tightly positioned against her slender form, she returns to the dressing table stool and proceeds to draw up the soft, very sheer tights, again stretching her legs out before a fascinated and obviously aroused Richard. The tights accentuate the already sensual shape of each leg and reveal the true depth of Eve’s feminine soul. Richard’s eyes betray a helpless attraction to the erotic ambiguity at the heart of this revelation and they smile at each other with a deep, desperate longing.
Once the tights are snugly positioned, Eve rises from the stool and minces back to the bed. She takes up the skirt and gently wriggles into it. As she does so, Richard places a warm hand on her nylon thigh and strokes it lovingly. Eve smiles and steps back, removing the hand and then picking up the sweater. She gracefully lowers this confection of soft white wool over the substantial bosom provided by the shaper and tucks it into the skirt. She returns to the stool and steps back into the pink patent-leather court shoes. She takes the sumptuously curved blonde wig – the wig that has been her erotic companion all day – from the stand, and carefully places it on her still damp head.
Then a few dabs of make-up: a hint of pink eye shadow and matching lipstick and a touch of foundation. Subtle and modest. She runs a teasing brush through her renewed blonde locks and turns to face a smiling, clearly very impressed Richard.
‘Incredible,’ he whispers. ‘Absolutely incredible.’
Eve performs a mock curtsey and Richard’s smile broadens.
The rest of the night is lost in a whirl of erotic romance and role-playing, fuelled by good food prepared by Eve’s expert hand, plus strong wine. Richard takes every opportunity to order Eve around the house in a masterful manner and also to caress and sexually tease the lovely TV. Eve is lost in a maelstrom of arousal, feeling her powerful sense of feminine being collide head-on with a helplessly masculine desire that is tormented and blurred by her attraction to Richard. This is the inescapable reality of the middle ground. Yet as she enjoys this intensely erotic silver-grey space between the feminine and the masculine, she is also becoming aware of something else – the pleasure of submission.
As the eveni
ng progresses, Richard makes his dominant presence felt through the power of his calm, easy-going yet forceful and controlling personality, and a series of more precise and definite orders. Eve is ordered to serve the food and drink as a maid, and to curtsey meekly before her master. At first it is an amusing game. But as they both fall under the influence of alcohol, all inhibitions are removed. Richard becomes even more forceful and Eve, instinctively, even more submissive. This increase in the polar power relations reaches its peak when Eve accidentally spills a drop of wine on Richard’s jeans and receives a harsh rebuke. To her secret delight, Richard grabs the gorgeous she-male by her wrists and hauls her once again over his lap. Then he administers an even harder, painful and furiously erotic spanking. At first Eve struggles angrily, but as the blows become more focused – an alternating slap to each buttock – she begins to feel a terrible, profound and all-pervasive pleasure. Her moans of pain edge into ambivalent squeals of a dark she-male pleasure and her stiff sex presses desperately through the body-shaper against Richard’s own revived weapon.
Then Richard pushes Eve from his knees.
‘Right, let’s get back upstairs. I need another really good sucking to help me sleep.’
The lovely Eve obliges. But this time it is beneath the sheets and they are naked. And Eve services Richard’s every need for over an hour.
That night – and it is well after midnight by the time they sleep – Eve shares her bed for the first time in her life; the end of a bizarre and beautiful day that has brought so many of her most secret dreams to life. Yet she is too exhausted to comprehend fully the adventures of the last twelve hours. However, even as she quickly slips into a deep and dreamless sleep, she finds herself – however briefly – pondering, once again, Richard’s true intentions, and whether there is some sinister link between their encounter in the shop and the Crème de la Crème club.
5
A Cruel Desire
When she wakes, it is after eight a.m. and Richard has left. There is a note on the dressing table.
My love
Last night was fantastic. I’ll be in contact.
R
Eve reads the words and feels the familiar collision of fear and desire that has framed the last two days. Confused and excited, she quickly showers, then slips into a pair of white silk panties and very sheer black nylon tights. Then, as an added extra, she wriggles into a sexy white silk teddy covered in a fine pattern of elegant roses. Over this delightfully feminine confection, she places her male clothes: a fresh, white cotton suit, a simple red silk tie, dark-grey trousers and an exactly matching jacket.
On the face of it she is once more he: Adam, the senior manager; the typical male. She wears male body spray, black leather shoes and a dark-blue raincoat. When she walks out to the car, nearly twenty minutes late, she feels stranger than ever. This is my true disguise, she thinks, climbing into the car, remembering her previous journey to the Crème de la Crème club, remembering driving Richard home the night before in a state of utter sexual delirium. And as she drives now, entering the chaotic morning rush-hour traffic, she recalls Richard’s body and his strange, disturbingly elliptic personality. She also recalls one of the most amazing nights of her life.
Despite the feminine frillies teasing her silken body, she finds Eve now has less power and control. In the suit, in the car, stuck in traffic, worrying about the day ahead, the weight of her male life begins to press upon her mind. Adam is now a day behind, and she knows that as soon as she sits down at the desk in his office, this weight will increase, that the problems will begin to mount up. A year ago, she had found all this a challenge, but now – especially today – it all seems a dreadful waste of time. A strange sense of dread washes over her. This is not what I want to do, she thinks. This is not the truth of my life.
By the time she leaves his car in the underground car park beneath the large office building that houses the regional headquarters, she is enveloped in a sense of numbing gloom. This gloom descends deeper and darker as she takes the lift up to Adam’s floor and the open-plan office he manages. As she walks through the jungle of desks, as the entirely female staff wish her good morning, she imagines that everyone knows ‘he’ is actually a she. She imagines that these many female eyes can, in some strange and miraculous way, see through the suit and into the truth of her feminine undies. This thought relieves the gloom a little, and, by the time she reaches his office, she manages a smile for Angela, Adam’s handsome, ultra-efficient secretary, a woman in her late forties whose calm, unflappable personality he has come to rely on during his time as section manager.
She talks about messages, demands, paperwork and Eve fights to listen. As she slinks into Adam’s office chair she feels a little less horrified. Angela’s calm description of the work ahead is strangely relaxing. She knows that work in itself rather than contemplation of it is the key to surviving the day and the days that are to follow.
Eventually, she is lost in Adam’s work, lost inside the problems and challenges that have always been so simple for her to address. Every now and again, she pauses to reflect on the night before, to think about Richard, about the Crème de la Crème, the amazing adventure of her new life. At these points the office seems to fade out and the tacky dance floor of the club is before her. She is dressed in a beautiful ball-gown, a fifties-style confection of white satin. She is dancing with Richard. Then she is dancing with Cherry. Her eyes widen as she remembers the gorgeous, dark-skinned TV. She imagines being with Richard and Cherry, a spectacular sexual adventure whose possibilities seem endless.
Suddenly, her body is tormented by the sensual fabrics beneath the suit and she is desperate to be Eve again, to be wholly transformed and to be with the gorgeous Cherry and the handsome, gently cruel Richard.
By four-thirty p.m., her cock is threatening to explode independently of any external stimulation. She makes Adam’s excuses and leaves an hour early.
She drives home through Friday evening traffic in a total trance, managing to avoid a road accident by instinct rather than intention. And once she is inside the house, she rips off the male clothing and spends twenty minutes soaking beneath a hot, steaming shower. The urge to masturbate is appalling and ever present, but she knows that to relieve herself of the deep, dark ache now would be to undermine the dynamic of the evening ahead. She needs to be fully aroused, totally sensitised and completely at the mercy of Richard.
After the shower and a long, teasing drying, she begins the process of transformation once again, a willing disappearance into the freedom of the secret self.
She has known all day how she will dress: tonight the model will be Juliette Binoche; cool black and blue.
She selects a short black dress with long sleeves, the red body-shaper, a very expensive pair of Italian-made black tights, woven from silk-impregnated nylon, a pair of black silk panties, a pair of black velvet-lined leather pumps by Gucci, with relatively modest three-inch heels, and a black cashmere jacket. Before dressing, she applies a hint of Chanel and a very dark red lipstick. The slightest touch of powder foundation and a light-blue eye-shadow complete the make-up.
Once she is dressed, her body alive with the sensual pleasures of the various soft, elegant and deeply erotic fabrics, she returns to the wardrobe, to a large wooden box placed by the shoe-racks. She kneels down, causing the short skirt of the lovely dress to ride up her legs to reveal her black-nyloned, perfectly shaped thighs and send electrical waves of narcissistic pleasure coursing across her she-male body.
From the box she takes a new wig, one of four balancing on polystyrene ‘phantom heads’. This is black, medium-length and straight, a slightly longer and thicker version of the classic Louise Brooks wig. She totters back to the dressing table and carefully slips the wig over her own short hair. The effect is immediate and stunning: the final touch which opens the doorway leading to the she-male beauty Eve. She sits at the dressing table, her hands rest on her warm, finely hosed knees; then they slip beneath the ski
rt of the dress. She moans with pleasure as she remembers the previous evening and the adventures that await her this evening. She remembers Richard’s hand inside her, his helpless cries of pleasure as he came in her mouth, the taste of his cum, the strangeness of being totally naked in his powerful arms and still feeling so totally Eve, and thus so totally feminine. Then she remembers the spanking and the terrible, fundamental physical excitement it produced in her, an excitement that is now renewed in her memory and leaves her gasping with a helpless, fierce pleasure.
She is shocked from her erotic ponderings by the clear, hard ring of the doorbell. She knows it is Richard. All day she has known he will come to her tonight and that she will give herself to him in any way he wishes.
Her heart pounding with a terrible anticipation, she tries to move as quickly as possible without undermining her naturally feminine and graceful stride. She knows she looks beautiful and convincing, she knows he will be impressed and aroused. The thought of this new revealing, however, is laced with a strange nervousness. Tonight will be far more profound in its consequences. Tonight is the next stage in the true revelation of Eve.
She opens the door with a beating heart and a rock-hard cock. Then she is before him, elegant, beautiful, so very carefully revealed.
He is dressed in a black sweater, a black leather jacket and black jeans. His eyes are filled with the dark passion she finds so terribly exciting.
He smiles warmly at the beautiful sight of her.
‘My God,’ he whispers.
He steps into the hallway. She notices he is carrying a black leather sports bag.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he says, putting down the bag and taking her in his arms. She feels herself momentarily lifted off her feet and then his mouth is pressed against hers. She parts her lips and the kiss they share is long and hard. His hot, minty breath washes over her face and she feels a quiver of feminine surrender pass across her body.
The Secret Self Page 10
