Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

  She laughs, enjoying this sexy game. ‘Oh, I’m going to make sure you wear them all the time, Chrissie. Except when I need your body, of course.’

  By the time they pull up outside Chris’s apartment building, Donna is driving with one hand and caressing his hosed knees with the other, while Chris is gently massaging Donna’s splendid breasts through the tight sweater. The car has hardly stopped before they are in each other’s arms once again.

  ‘I want to stay the night,’ she says, breaking the tight, desperate embrace, a red-hot flame of need lighting her perfect face.

  ‘Of course, mistress,’ he replies, amazed, elated. ‘But your daughter?’

  ‘She’s spending the night with a friend again. Let’s go up to your flat and fuck.’

  She leads him mincing desperately behind her into the building, then into the lift. In the lift they kiss and cuddle and he is so distracted by hard lust that he is no longer aware of being so profoundly out of the closet, not even here, in this most exposed of places.

  They stagger from the lift, their high heels clicking violently against the tiled floor of the third floor hallway. They reach his door. He struggles to open the door with the key that is hidden in a small pocket of the sexy, black leather skirt. Then they are in his house, in the living room.

  ‘Strip me first,’ she says. ‘Slowly, gently. Strip me naked.’

  And, of course, he must obey his beautiful, all-powerful mistress. First, he kneels and removes her black patent leather court shoes, revelling in the erotic precision of their design and the endlessly erotic feel of the gleaming, warm leather. He kisses the heels of each shoe, before placing them by her petite, hosed feet. He then elegantly rises back onto his own high heels. Their eyes meet and lock tightly together as he reaches around behind her skirt and slowly edges the zipper down from her waist to the middle of her splendid bottom. He grips the waist of the skirt and pulls it down, sighing with an almost unbearable pleasure as her own perfectly shaped, black nylon-sheathed legs are revealed to his wild, sex-crazed eyes.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, mistress,’ he gasps. ‘I want you so badly.’

  As the skirt passes over her thighs he notices that her tights are soaked in sex-juice and he leans forwards and slowly licks droplets of come from her crotch. She moans loudly and then violently grabs his wigged head, forcing his face deep between her legs. The skirt falls to the floor and his hands grip her buttocks tightly. He breathes in her sex, he swallows it up with a gasp of infinite pleasure. The pungent smell of her infects every tormented inch of his being.

  Then, his make-up staining the sheer fabric, his boiling, flushed face drenched in her come, he delicately slips the tights down her legs and off her feet; then, with a teasing care, he slips the black silk panties over her thighs, revelling in her powerful sex-scent and beholding a perfect upside-down triangle of glistening, jet-black pubic hair.

  The panties removed, he stands upright and slowly helps Donna to wiggle out of the tight sweater. A moan of shocked delight escapes his strawberry-red lips as a sexy, lace-edged pink brassiere is revealed, a bra which holds firmly in place a pair of large, heaving, pale rose breasts, their hard, long nipples clearly visible through the soft silk fabric. After discarding the sweater, he gently strokes each plump breast through its delightful silken prison and teases each rock-solid nipple. Donna responds with a gasp of girlish pleasure. He then slowly unclips the bra to expose these splendid orbs in all their sensual, natural glory. And almost immediately he is smothering her breasts in kisses, leaving a mass of lipstick tattoos and inspiring more desperate moans of pleasure. But even as she writhes under his hungry caresses, she is attempting to pull the tight leather skirt over his padded hips and down his long, nylon-encased legs.

  ‘Now it’s your turn,’ she whispers.

  He stands back and allows her to pull the skirt down over his legs. He daintily steps out of it and then watches with a fierce, burning desire as she slowly unbuttons the black silk blouse and gently eases it over his shoulders. Then, with the blouse discarded, she is staring at the fiendish intricacies of the lovely cross-dresser’s corselette.

  ‘This is really clever,’ she whispers. ‘An artificial body frame. No wonder you look so curvaceous.’

  She tells him to take off his high-heeled shoes and then gently guides the black panties and the sheer black tights down his silky-smooth legs, eventually leaving him in only the wig and the corselette. He shows her how to unbutton the corselette and, as she pulls it from his body, he feels the most acute and delightful sense of absolute submission wash over his body. Eventually, Donna helps him to step out of the corselette and thus reveal his true, distinctly male physical self, the most prominent feature of which is his large and very erect penis. Donna’s lovely blue eyes widen with an intense arousal and her gorgeous smile widens.

  ‘My, my,’ she teases, ‘you are a very big girl.’

  Then she slowly wraps a hand around the rigid, engorged sex-shaft and brings a squeal of surprise and pleasure from Chris’s helplessly girlish mouth. As she begins to slowly caress his sex, her eyes wander hungrily about his body.

  ‘You keep yourself in good condition, Chris. And not a hair to be seen anywhere. I’m really impressed, especially by this.’

  Then she leads him from the living room and into the bathroom, her hand still firmly in possession of his sex.

  ‘We should shower first. Get rid of all that make-up and stuff. We can wash each other.’

  She releases him and he slowly, shakily runs the shower. Then he helps her step beneath the powerful jet of warm water. Soon they are both engulfed in a thick cloud of steam and Donna is carefully soaping every inch of Chris’s lean, surprisingly muscular body. Moaning with a pleasure he had not thought possible, his body swaying erotically beneath Donna’s careful, teasing caresses, he takes up a second bar of scented soap and begins to apply it over this gorgeous woman’s perfect frame, paying particular attention to her sublime breasts. She giggles and gasps and concentrates her own efforts on his straining, angry sex. Then her soapy hands are between his legs and gently pushing his thighs apart. Then, to his extreme surprise, her hands are slipping between his buttocks.

  ‘Turn around,’ she whispers, pulling her hands free. ‘Turn around and spread your legs.’

  He obeys and waits fearfully as her finger returns to the darkness between his buttocks. Then, amazingly, a long, soapy index finger is gently working its way into his anus. He cries out and instinctively hops forwards. She wraps her free arm around his waist and holds him firmly in place, pushing her finger deeper into his most intimate region. He moans with a strange, undeniable pleasure.

  ‘You like it, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ he gasps. ‘Very much.’

  She laughs and continues to tease his anus, causing his penis to stretch even further up his stomach.

  ‘That’s good. Helen wants to make sure you’re fully trained in the pleasures of the arse.’

  Her strange words signal the removal of the finger and a return to the mutual caresses that soon have them both gasping with a desperate, crazed pleasure.

  Eventually, she leads him from the shower and they gently, teasingly dry each other before she orders him to take her to his bedroom. His heart pounding, his knees shaking, his entire body wrapped in a field of nervous electric energy, he leads her into the bedroom. Then, suddenly, they are on the bed and in each other’s arms. He is covering her in kisses, she is stroking his sex and licking his chest. They lock in a long, hard kiss, her hands grasping his short hair tightly, even angrily. She climbs on top of him, slowly lowering her soaking sex onto his stiff, enflamed penis. This is the moment he has been waiting for all his life: the first genuine sexual encounter with a woman. Her smile widens into a grimace of animal pleasure as his cock slips deep into her cunt. And within seconds she is riding him, pumping both of them to a violent orgasm, a mutual fit of screaming and bucking that leaves Donna spread over his body like a boi
ling-hot blanket of soft, female flesh and him seeing stars through tear-filled eyes. Then his arms are around her, tightly hugging her, and he is begging her never to leave, swearing complete, absolute and eternal obedience.

  ‘I love you, mistress,’ he cries.

  Hours pass, the night ignited by the red-hot spark of a truly profound desire. They make love continually. She insists he pleasure her orally, pushing his head between her long, sweat-soaked legs. He plunges his tongue deep into her oceanic sex and, with the guidance of her increasing screams of pleasure, finds her clit. He brings her to at least three loud, fierce multiple orgasms and his body is soon soaked in his sweat, her sweat and a pungent film of her sex-juices. Then, as a reward, she slips her lovely lips around the head of his angry, desperate, rock-hard cock and quickly sucks him to his own very violent orgasm, drinking every drop of his thick, rich come with a rapt smile of extreme pleasure.

  When sleep comes, it is a beautiful abyss of blackness. Exhausted, overwhelmed, sated, they lie naked, spent, wrapped in each other’s arms. Tonight he has been initiated into the joys of sexual being via a truly volcanic encounter with a most beautiful and imaginative woman, a woman who, along with the gorgeous, regal Helen and the emerald-eyed goddess Anne, has begun to map the long, ultra-kinky pathway to his future of joyous she-male enslavement.

  Part Two

  The Making of a Maid

  Four

  He wakes from a deep, dreamless sleep, a slow emergence. Instinctively, he turns to embrace Donna, to reassure himself that the previous night hadn’t been some wonderful hallucination. But she isn’t in the bed: only a slight, warm dent remains. Suddenly, he is wide awake, panic gripping his heart. Suddenly, he is terrified he has been dreaming. He pulls himself from the bed and rushes naked into the living room. There is no sign of her anywhere! Then he sees the note on the dining table, a sheet of yellow writing paper. He picks it up and reads her neat, careful handwriting, her gentle, loving, teasing words.

  Chrissie,

  I had a fantastic night. You’re the first virgin I’ve ever slept with and now I know what I’ve been missing! But I doubt very much I’ll be sleeping with any more – you’re more than enough to keep this girl happy! Make sure you wear your sexiest undies today, because I’ll be coming to see you in the office later.

  All my love

  Mistress Donna

  An almost overwhelming sense of relief washes over him as he reads the note, and it is only now he realises it is daylight. He has no idea what the time is. He checks the kitchen clock: 7.40 a.m.! He rushes into the shower and spends the next half an hour washing, scenting and carefully shaving every inch of his body, the wonderful memories of the night before ensuring an immediate and very intense erection.

  Once dried and perfumed, he returns to the bedroom and follows Donna’s instructions, taking a pair of beautiful white silk panties and drawing them up his smooth legs and over his rampant sex with a gasp of almost agonising pleasure. He follows the panties with a pair of very sheer, seamed black nylon tights, pulling them up his legs with a series of helpless moans. This is all he wants: the incredible thrill of feminisation combined with absolute servitude, a heavenly subjugation, a silken slavery.

  He deliberately avoids slipping socks over the tights and is very tempted to wear one of his more shirt-like white silk blouses, but instead he opts for his usual office attire and is soon rushing from the flat, his heart beating out a rapid rhythm of addictive and deeply masochistic desire, his cock straining with a savage energy against its silk and nylon prison.

  And by the time he gets into his office, he is almost half an hour late. He dashes through the main office, hardly noticing his three mistresses. In his office, his mind possessed by a supreme, all-pervasive hunger and a wild anticipation of his forthcoming servitude, he collapses into the seat behind his desk and fights to regain his breath. Yet hardly has he sat down than the door opens and Helen strolls in. His first, now redundant reaction is a bizarre irritation at her failure to knock, but then he is out of his seat and standing obediently before her, his eyes staring modestly at her black patent leather court shoes.

  ‘I expect you to curtsey when your mistress enters the room,’ she whispers, her deep voice filled with a relaxed but absolute authority.

  He performs a sweet, very feminine curtsey and apologises.

  She walks past him and lowers herself into his seat.

  ‘You were late this morning, Chrissie,’ she says.

  He turns to face her. ‘I’m sorry, mistress. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘No, it won’t. And to make sure, tonight I’ll give you a very sound spanking. I want you here at 8.30 a.m. sharp each morning. As soon as you arrive, you’ll be expected to make coffee for Anne, Donna and myself. I will also expect you to give me a foot massage.’

  As she delivers her instructions, she kicks off the lovely high-heeled shoes and raises her black-hosed feet upwards. He performs another delicate curtsey and kneels before her.

  This morning she is wearing a very tight black sweater, a knee-length red skirt and black tights, her gorgeous brown hair tied in a very tight bun. Her beautifully plump figure is perfectly displayed by this simple costume, particularly her very large, yet still very shapely breasts. His eyes stare down at her nylon-encased feet. His erection stretches against his trousers and beads of sex sweat fall into his eyes as he leans forwards and takes a lovely, hosed foot in his hot, shaking hands. The feel of her warm, soft flesh through sheer black nylon is heavenly and he cannot resist a moan of pleasure as he begins very gently to massage the sole of her foot.

  ‘Press a little harder, Chrissie – the pressure loosens up the muscles and helps me relax.’

  He obeys, wary at first, but noticing her positive response he soon finds a confident yet careful motion.

  ‘Do you like my feet, Chrissie?’ she asks, a jagged edge of obvious arousal cutting through her husky voice.

  ‘They’re lovely, mistress. The beautiful feet of a very beautiful woman.’

  She smiles at this complement. ‘Donna tells me you’re no longer a virgin.’

  He blushes and cannot resist a smile of his own. ‘No, mistress.’

  ‘She also tells me that you’re a particularly eager and gifted lover.’

  His blushes deepen and he bows his head in embarrassment.

  ‘She says you have a particularly skilled tongue.’

  Her words are now filled with sexual intent and Chris increases the pressure on her gorgeous feet.

  ‘I’ll expect to be shown these talents, Chrissie.’

  Amazed, he looks up at her. Their eyes meet: there is no doubt she means what she is saying.

  ‘Of course, mistress. Whatever you require.’

  Her only response is another enigmatic smile.

  Following the strange, exciting massage and the teasing conversation that accompanies it, Helen orders Chris to his feet and hands him a sheet of paper covered in very small, neat handwriting.

  ‘This will be your diet for the next two weeks. You will eat the same food each day and nothing else. A slice of brown toast and a glass of pure orange juice for breakfast, an apple at eleven, a simple salad and a banana for lunch, a peach at three. Your evening meal will be provided at my house. There will be no more coffee, tea or alcohol. Besides the orange juice, you will be allowed to drink only mineral water.’

  He listens and reads in a state of stunned disappointment. How an earth will he survive on this? But he quickly curtseys his understanding and watches her leave in a state of absolute amazement, his eyes never leaving her long, elegant legs, his sex pressing angrily into his stomach, the promise of the evening already driving him mad with anticipation.

  For the next hour, he sits behind his desk, staring into a drugged abyss of sexual hunger. Work is now utterly beyond him. All he can think of is the look of sinful promise in Helen’s eyes, the feel of her beautiful feet through the teasingly sheer nylon and, overlapping with these powerful im
ages, his incredible experiences with the gorgeous Donna. And it is as he remembers the previous night, as his hands rub helplessly against his imprisoned sex, that the door opens once again. Shocked, he quickly withdraws his hands and rises to his feet. Standing before him like the apparition of the goddess of all his desires is Donna. Dressed in a black sweater, a very short check skirt, black tights and high heels, her lovely blonde hair bound in a bun, her face lit up by a beautiful, life-enhancing smile, she is his perfect vision, his dream made startling reality. He curtseys sweetly and her smile broadens.

  ‘Very good, Chrissie: you must never forget to curtsey before your mistress.’

  She strolls up to him, takes his head in her cool, elegant hands and gives him a very long, wet and hard kiss. His knees buckle, her powerful musk perfume fills his nostrils. He almost collapses against her before she gently pushes him away.

  ‘Take down your trousers – let’s see what you’ve put on for me.’