Silken Slavery
Page 6
Embarrassed, yet also terribly excited, he unzips his trousers and lets them fall around his knees, revealing the very sheer, black seamed tights, the panties and the extremely angry erection straining beneath them. She laughs and runs a long, red-nailed finger down the length of his hosed, panty-imprisoned and very erect cock. He moans loudly and she clamps her free hand over his girlish mouth, pressing her shapely, substantial breasts into his chest as she leans forward.
‘Dear me, you are in a state,’ she whispers, teasing his sex a little more, pressing harder against the imprisoned shaft, ‘but you look wonderful. Such a shame you have to wear trousers. But not for much longer. In a few hours we’ll have you all wrapped up in feminine frillies, with a nice short skirt to show off these sexy legs.’
He moans louder into her hand gag and pushes his crotch into her skirt. She tuts and slips her teasing hand between his hosed legs.
‘What a noisy little sissy you are, Chrissie. You really do need to be gagged. I think my panties should do the trick. Yes, I’ll have to make sure this naughty, sluttish mouth is well filled with my panties tonight.’
His eyes widen with a terrible, helpless arousal.
‘Put your hands behind your back,’ she orders.
He obeys and she begins to caress the dark, warm gap between his buttocks. He squeezes his buttocks together around her hand. She gasps playfully, pulls her hand free and then redoubles her teasing efforts on his burning, aching sex.
‘Just imagine the taste of me, the taste of my come and my piss, the taste of my arse. All filling that dainty, sexy mouth.’
Then he explodes. She presses her hand tightly into his mouth. A terrible muffled scream fills the room and his thick white semen floods into the skimpy, delicate panties. He falls into her embrace and she then guides his spent, shaking body back to the chair.
As he collapses into the chair, a profound, bottomless happiness washes over him.
‘I love you so much,’ he gasps.
She smiles and steps back from her drained lover.
‘Good. And to prove it, you’ll keep those pretty spunk-filled panties on for the rest of the day. I’ll see you tonight at Helen’s – we’ve got a very special treat planned.’
Before he can say another word, she leaves the room, his eyes fixed upon her startling body in stunned adoration.
* * *
He spends the rest of the day in a state of some physical discomfort, but never once considers changing. His commitment to his new mistresses is absolute and he will obey their commands completely and without question.
By the time he arrives at Helen’s house that evening, the stain has almost dried, and as he knocks on the large, imposing front door his heart is once more pounding with a heavenly anticipation.
He is made to wait some time before Helen opens the door. She is now dressed in a beautiful, semi-transparent, cream-coloured silk blouse and a knee-length black skirt, her legs sealed in the almost uniform black hose. She is also wearing very high-heeled, black patent leather court shoes. Her very large bosom is tightly restrained by a white, lace-edged bra that is clearly visible through the shimmering silk. Her lips have been painted a deep, glistening cherry-red and at the centre of each of her lovely dark brown eyes is a fierce, threatening flame of wicked passion.
‘Come in, Chrissie,’ she says, her voice harder, cooler, the voice of a true dominatrix.
Chris instinctively curtseys and follows her into the house, up the long, dark stairs and back into the spare room, his eyes never once leaving the plump but shapely outline of her ample bottom and the dead straight seams of her hose.
‘Now,’ she says, turning to face him, ‘I want you to undress and get into the shower. You’ll find everything you need to wash, shave and perfume your body. When you’ve finished, return to this room. You have twenty minutes.’
Following another sweet curtsey, he begins to undress before her, his own eyes cast down on her sexy shoes, his attitude one of complete subservience.
By the time he gets down to the stained hose, his massive, desperate erection is embarrassingly obvious. Yet he makes no attempt to hide it, feeling a strange, highly charged pride in his state of furious arousal. And as he pulls the tights and panties down his silky legs, his sex almost leaps out like some starved, chained snake.
A smile crosses Helen’s face as she studies his sex, a teasing, calculating smile that only serves to make him even more excited.
Then he is naked, his hands behind his back, his eyes still pinned to her shoes.
‘Donna told me you were rather well endowed for a sissy,’ Helen says. ‘I can see she wasn’t joking. Now off to the shower with you.’
He curtseys again and minces out into the corridor. It is only then that he realises he has no idea where the bathroom is! As he turns, he feels Helen’s distinctive presence almost directly behind him.
‘The first on the right,’ she whispers, her hands gently caressing his naked buttocks.
Gasping with aroused shock, he curtseys again, the smell of Helen’s lovely rose perfume filling his nostrils, and minces down the corridor.
Washing, shaving, drying and then scenting his body in twenty minutes is no mean feat, and by the time he returns to the bedroom, he is at least three minutes late. He also finds himself facing the gorgeous backs of Helen and Donna, both of whom are now leaning over the modest single bed.
It is Donna who turns to face him, her stunning blue eyes widening in amused excitement at the sight of her slave/lover.
‘Well, don’t you look a pretty picture?’ she says, walking up to him, her eyes carefully examining every inch of his baby smooth, naked body.
Donna is now wearing a very tight pink woollen sweater, a very short white mini-skirt, white tights and pink stiletto-heeled shoes. Her beautiful blonde hair spills freely over her shapely shoulders and her pink coloured lips have soon extended into an even more teasing smile. She looks absolutely fantastic and he moans helplessly as she stops only a few inches in front of his quivering, naked form.
Then, to his astonishment, she grabs his sex. He squeals in shock, his eyes virtually popping out of his head, as Donna proceeds to lead him forwards by his sex. He totters behind her, both appalled and wildly aroused by this ultra-kinky guidance, and, as he is pulled to a halt before the bed, a spasm of pure, masochistic pleasure vibrates through his girlish body.
As he fights to recover from the shock of Donna’s bizarre intervention, he notices what the two startling women are pondering on the bed. Laid out before them is a beautiful black satin dress edged at its sleeves, very high neck and very short skirt with inches of fine white French lace. By the dress is a cream silk pinafore, also exquisitely edged with French lace, and what appears to be a black version of the cross-dresser’s corselette. Next to the corselette are a pair of black nylon tights, a pair of black silk panties and a dainty maid’s cap.
‘Your uniform, Chrissie,’ Helen announces.
Chris stares at this sexy array in absolute astonishment. This is his most powerful, most consistent fantasy about to be made reality and he nearly swoons before its terrible sexual power.
It is only as he staggers before his uniform that he notices Donna has produced a very sheer black nylon stocking and is running it teasingly through her hands, a wicked smile on her beautiful face.
‘But before we get you all dolled up, I think we need to make sure your naughty cock is well and truly under control. Put your hands behind your back.’
He obeys and watches in horror and helpless excitement as Donna slowly bunches up the stocking, her teasing, sexy eyes never leaving his, then very slowly and very carefully slips it over the engorged purple head of his sex. The feel of this cool, soft fabric against the boiling, ultra-sensitive surface of his sex is incredible and there is nothing he can do to prevent the loud, angry moan that explodes from his mouth as Donna stretches the stocking down over his sex and positions it tightly around the base of his swollen testicles.
Her threats serve only to excite him even more, as she knows they must.
‘Oh, I think he’d like to be gagged, Helen,’ Donna whispers, now gently caressing his sex through the stocking. ‘And I’ve got the perfect gag. I’ve been working on it all day, making sure it tastes just right.’
Both women laugh as Chris’s squeals turn into a low moan of animal pleasure.
And as if this wasn’t enough torment, Donna then produces a thick pink silk ribbon and uses it to tie the terrible, teasing stocking in place around his testicles in a fat sissy bow.
‘As you can see, Chrissie,’ Helen explains. ‘The stocking is black. It will show the slightest sign of a naughty male emission immediately. If, at any time, there is evidence of such a release, you will be soundly spanked. You will wear the stocking permanently until your training begins in earnest, when a more suitable form of restraint will be introduced.’
Helen’s hard, dominating words sound like the sexiest poetry to Chris, her deep, husky voice a tool of slow-burning sexual torture that would make a recitation of the telephone directory sound like the most exciting erotica.
By the time Helen takes the corselette from the bed, poor Chris is almost on the verge of passing out from the effects of the intense pleasure coursing through his body. It is only the sight of this beautiful variation on the corselette that revives him.
‘I spent the afternoon in the city visiting some fetish fashion stores,’ she says, holding the corselette before him. ‘They really do have an incredible range of stuff.’
He smiles weakly and nods.
‘The great thing about this is that it acts like a proper corset. So you get the body shape, plus figure training.’
Chris examines the corselette, noticing that, unlike his version, it is fitted at the upper waist with two red satin panels beneath which is a row of stays.
‘Not genuine whalebone,’ she says, a hint of disappointment in her sexy voice. ‘They’re made from a form of extra-strong plastic lined with rubber and then sewn into the satin panels.’
At the back of this part of the corselette are two rows of metal eyes through which run a complex mass of criss-crossed silk laces. Above this is the chest section: two large bra cups filled with what looks like extremely realistic padding.
‘A forty-inch chest, Chrissie,’ Helen continues, watching his eyes fix onto the bulging cups. ‘Not padding, but special rubber bags filled with silicon. They look and feel very realistic.’
Donna then helps Chris to step into the black lace-frilled legs of the stunning corselette and Helen then draws it carefully up his body. He feels the tight elastane fabric of the corselette grip and squeeze his stomach and is almost immediately overwhelmed by the most exquisite sense of restriction. This is increased as Helen pulls the corselette up over his chest and slips the surprisingly strong silk shoulder-straps up over his arms and then over his slender, girlish shoulders. Then two sensations seize him at once. First, the amazing effect of the perfectly shaped artificial breasts which fill the beautifully designed, lace-edged bra cups. Suddenly he feels himself pulled forwards by their very real weight and has to stand virtually to attention to counteract this strangely pleasurable effect. Second, there is the tightness around the waist, a tightness made almost immediately more severe as Helen takes up the silk laces and begins to use them to pull in the satin panelled sides and press the tough plastic stays into his sides and push the air from his lungs. He gasps in pained amazement as she pulls the corset to a tightness that is more than uncomfortable and then sustains this level of restriction by tying the silk laces in a series of very tight and fat bows. This tightening provides a strange, rather enthralling counterbalance to the pulling effect of the breasts and he now finds himself forced to stand almost bolt upright.
He cannot help but marvel at the effect of the corselette and finds himself running his shaking hands over the smooth, soft material and moaning with pleasure at the sense of intense femininity the garment produces. This sense is significantly enhanced when he notices that the corselette, like his own, less exotic version, has a specially padded crotch section which completely obscures his rock-hard, tightly stockinged sex and more padding at the hips to produce a genuinely feminine figure.
‘You look fantastic already,’ Donna purrs, taking the tights from the bed and handing them to him.’But these will really add that special sissy touch. They’re the finest we could find, and they’re seamed. They’ll do wonders for those gorgeous legs.’
His heart hammering against his delicately feminised chest, Chris is then helped to sit down on the bed by Helen. As he does so, the tight panels of the corset bite deep into his sides and he gasps in pain.
‘The corset will be rather uncomfortable for a while,’ she says, her splendid eyes filled with a cruel amusement, her own substantial breasts rising and falling rapidly with an obvious excitement through the fine fabric of the expensive silk blouse. ‘But diet and regular exercise should reduce your waist to a less restricted size quite quickly.’
As he very carefully pulls the tights up his legs, he is very much aware of the eyes of the two dominant beauties burning into his every gesture. Yet, rather than being intimidated, he finds their fascination highly exciting and produces a series of elegant, balletic and very feminine movements for their entertainment, demonstrating his natural skill at slipping sexily into the hose. He gently rises from the bed to slip the tights over his upper thighs and secure them around his tightly restricted waist, a smile of intense pleasure lighting up his pretty face. The tights feel incredibly light, soft and sexy and, as he carefully straightens the pencil thin black seams, he notices that Donna seems to be lost in a sex-trance.
‘You’re really good at this,’ she mumbles. ‘How an earth did you ever manage to pass as a boy?’
‘He should have been completely feminised ages ago,’ Helen adds. ‘It’s absurd that he should be anything other than a she-male slave.’
Her sexy words only add to his almost unbearable sense of arousal. Yet this, he knows, is only the beginning. And as if to demonstrate the fact, Donna then takes up the black silk lace-edged panties and holds them before him.
‘Put these on, Chrissie, then we’ll begin making you up.’
He takes the lovely undergarment from Donna, his eyes glued to hers. This is sex Nirvana, he thinks, pulling the panties up his hosed legs; this is absolute perfection.
He is then led by Donna to the dressing table, each step in his finely hosed feet a strange, new and delightful experience of feminine movement, the corselette’s various restrictions and weights forcing him to take smaller, much more feminine steps, his bottom already beginning to wiggle with a helplessly sissy enthusiasm.
He is made to sit before the large, oval dressing table mirror. Laid out on the table before him are a vast array of bottles, tubes and canisters, a much more complete collection than he could ever have hoped to bring together. He stares at this incredible cornucopia through wide, stunned eyes. Donna leans forwards and takes up a tube of foundation cream. They stare at each other in the mirror. Her full breasts press against his bare shoulder as she leans forwards. His cock feels as if it is about to burst out of its delicate stocking prison at any moment.
‘I’m soaking,’ she whispers.
‘I want you so much,’ he replies.
She eases a long line of light tan cream from the tube and then begins to massage it into his face. He watches in a state of almost paralytic sexual ecstasy as she begins to transform him into Christina, her long, elegant hands spreading the cool cream across his cheeks and chin, over his forehead, under his eyes, around his neck, removing any sign of the abrupt angles of masculinity and carefully replacing them with the gentle cur
ves of femininity. Soon, a complete, flawless mask has been created. This is followed by a further layer of a much lighter cream, which manages to produce the illusion of a perfect, unblemished skin tone. Then she sets to work on his eyes. First, a jet-black highlighter pencil is drawn across each eyebrow, creating two identical, perfectly curving lines of teasing femininity. After this, she carefully fixes a set of extremely long and helplessly fluttering false lashes to his natural eyelashes and adds a hint of scented mascara to each. Then pale blue eye-shadow is delicately applied with a tiny, soft brush to each eyelid.
After the eyes come the lips. Donna gently runs a thick, cherry-red lipstick across his full, always feminine lips, transforming them into a gorgeous sissy bow of pure subservience. This is followed by a clear lip-gloss that makes his lips shine like two red pools of bottomless desire.
After the lips, pink rouge is carefully applied to each cheek, and then Donna stands back to admire her work.