Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

  It is at this point that Anne orders Chris to return to the kitchen and fetch the bottle of wine. The lovely she-male obeys with a delightfully sissy curtsey, making a point of ensuring that his sexy panties are on full display for his beautiful red-headed mistress, and then wiggle-minces back to the kitchen. He returns with the chilled bottle of lime-green Chardonnay and leans forwards before Anne to fill her glass. It is at this point that, once again, Anne suddenly pulls the glass away. Chris tries his hardest to avoid spilling the wine, but a small drop still manages to splash onto Anne’s leather trousers.

  ‘You foolish little slut!’ Anne suddenly explodes and slaps Chris’s hosed thighs twice with considerable power.

  Chris releases a high-pitched yelp of surprise and outrage. It seems that the lovely, cruel-eyed Anne is determined to get the sexy sissy into trouble as often as possible!

  Helen immediately rises to her feet and examines the minute spillage.

  ‘This is really unacceptable, Chrissie. Your clumsiness demonstrates quite clearly that you lack even a rudimentary understanding of the absolute necessity for complete and constant physical control. And this isn’t the first time: there is still the question of your poor performance in the office this morning. You will be spanked and then I think a little bondage therapy will be required.’

  Her sharp, hard words echo through the she-male’s head like ringing bells of supreme injustice. Yet, despite the obvious trick played by Anne, Chris says nothing: he merely curtseys before Helen, his beautiful, fire-eyed mistress, and awaits his no doubt strange and painful fate.

  The wait itself is short, for no sooner has Helen passed sentence than Anne jumps up from her seat and rushes over to a large leather bag sitting by the fireplace. From inside she takes a number of lengths of what appear to be black rubber-coated cording and a thick roll of silver masking tape. As she returns, Helen orders Chris to face the front windows so that his back directly faces his mistresses. He obeys, and Helen then removes the sexy silk pinafore. She then slowly unbuttons the lovely satin maid’s dress. As the dress falls to the floor to reveal the wondrous delights of this particularly gorgeous she-male’s undergarments, Helen forces Chris’s arms behind his back. She then grasps both of his slim, feminine wrists and crosses them, allowing Anne to step forward and bind them very tightly together with a length of the rubber cording. As Anne ties his wrists together, Donna stands in front of Chris and, in a slow, ultra-teasing motion, begins to wiggle her short pink skirt up her beautiful, white nylon-sheathed legs.

  ‘I promised you a very fragrant gag, Chrissie, and I’ve been working on it all day. Now it’s time to try it out.’

  He can only watch with a deeply aroused fascination as Donna proceeds to hitch her skirt up over her waist to reveal her hosed panties, again clearly soaked in her apparently perpetual flow of come. Chris’s sex strains angrily against its delicate yet absolute stocking imprisonment, his sissy eyes popping out of his pretty little head. His wrists straining with a fundamental masochistic pleasure, he witnesses the stunning blonde kick off her high heels and then wiggle out of the tights, a dance of teasing promise that leaves the helpless she-male moaning with a vast, desperate need. Once the tights have been discarded, she takes the white nylon panties by their elastic waist band and then slowly pulls them down her long, elegant legs, her startling blue eyes never leaving her fascinated slave’s, her smile a beacon of endless sensual promise. Pulling the panties from her ankles, she then steps up before Chris and pushes the gusset section firmly against his nostrils. The smell of Donna hits him like a fist, the smell of her body, of its most intimate functions and its deepest arousals. Her pungent sex, the perfume of her animal life, all of it is suddenly deep within Chris, filling every pore and every tormented, sexed thought.

  ‘Open wide, Chrissie,’ she teases.

  And he does, and then the panties are rammed deep into his mouth. He moans with a desperate, twisted desire as the panties are virtually forced down his throat. Coughs and splutters are met with cruel, mocking laughter. He strains against the tight bonds securing his wrists and watches with wide, terrified and intensely aroused eyes as Helen takes up the roll of masking tape and tears from it a long, thick strip.

  ‘Lips together, Chrissie.’

  He obeys Helen’s teasingly matter of fact words and then his gorgeous mistress applies the tape to his soft, ripe, girlish lips, spreading it firmly over them with the palm of her hand and thus tightly gagging her excited, swooning she-male charge.

  Chris squeals with a powerful, masochistic need into the panty gag, the many intimate tastes of Donna tormenting his sealed, filled mouth. Helen then applies a second length of the rubber cording to Chris’s elbows, forcing them painfully together into a highly uncomfortable position with a tight, utterly unforgiving knot. The she-male is overwhelmed by an utterly delicious sense of complete and inescapable helplessness as Helen then guides her sexy charge to a wooden dining chair that Anne has placed in the centre of the room. Donna and Helen then carefully bend the unfortunate she-male over the chair, ensuring that his tightly pantied bottom is presented for a no doubt sound and merciless punishment. Once satisfied that he is adequately positioned, Helen then binds his hosed ankles with another length of the wicked rubber cording. Chris whimpers helplessly into the gag as he is tied tightly in place, his lovely eyes wide with fear and the most wonderful sense of absolute submission. His dreams of becoming a gorgeous she-male damsel in distress are now about to be realised and the incredible fact of this realisation is almost too much to bear.

  ‘Given your repeated clumsiness, Anne will use a hairbrush this time,’ Helen announces. ‘Twelve hard strokes. Next time they will be on your bare behind.’

  Hardly have these terrible words escaped Helen’s splendid lips when a sudden sheet of black fire envelopes Chris’s tightly tethered she-male form. A brutal, sharp, stinging pain spreads across his buttocks like the shock wave from a meteor impact on the soft earth of a virgin moon.

  The poor, helpless she-male screams into the pungent panty gag, but the only sound that escapes the thick, unyielding tape is a pathetic, high-pitched squeal of agony, a squeal that is repeated eleven times as Anne administers the spanking with a cruel enthusiasm, her green eyes alight with the sadistic pleasure of inflicting pain on a helpless and very beautiful victim.

  By the end of the spanking, Chris is sobbing desperately into his gag. His buttocks are on fire and thick, pained tears are pouring from his lovely, wide, sissy eyes. As he is pulled back to his feet by Helen and Donna, he can hear Anne’s laughter filling the room. He is then positioned so that he is staring directly at the three gorgeous women through a film of tears.

  ‘Yes, Chrissie, it hurts,’ Helen teases. ‘But I get the distinct impression you like it to hurt. However, I think you need some time on your own to think about what has happened and how you can improve your performance. So we’re going to wrap you up nice and tightly and put you in the broom closet for an hour.’

  Bemused by these words, Chris can only watch helplessly as another length of rubber cording is applied to his knees. Then, to his horror, he is made to hop out of the living room in the high, high heels, down the corridor and up to a small door beneath the stairs. Here a new and even more bizarre moment of humiliation occurs. Helen pulls open the door and then, from a pocket in her skirt, she produces another pair of panties, black, rather large, and made from a very smooth and no doubt very expensive silk.

  ‘I’ve had these on all day at work, Chrissie, and I must admit I’m rather jealous of Donna’s little torment, so…’

  She then proceeds to pull the panties over her slave’s delicately wigged head and position them carefully over his face, ensuring that the gusset section is pulled tightly over his nostrils and the two leg sections are positioned over his eyes, thus creating a most unusual bondage mask. To the sublime tastes of Donna are thus added the powerful and very personal odours of the gorgeous Helen. Each desperate, sexed breath that Chris t
akes is a breath of Helen’s sexual scents and his own sex struggles angrily in its delicate stocking prison as the masochistic pleasure this new humiliation brings floods through his delicately feminised body. But this is not the end of his restraint, for no sooner are the panties stretched tightly over his girlish face than Anne has produced another black nylon stocking. She then proceeds to wrap it over Chris’s tape- and panty-sealed mouth, adding a second gag and in the process forcing the gusset section of Helen’s odorous panties even tighter against his flaring nostrils.

  ‘Right,’ Helen says, ‘I think she’s ready for her new home.’

  Smiling cruelly, Anne opens the door, leans inside and flicks on a light switch. A very small, confined space is revealed. Chris looks inside with a renewed sense of fearful apprehension. On the floor is what appears to be a rubber mattress. Other than this, the cupboard is completely empty.

  Anne and Donna then help a whimpering Chris totter into the cupboard, forcing his head down beneath the low beam of the doorway as they do so. They then help the lovely she-male damsel in distress to kneel on the rubber mattress and carefully lower him onto his stomach. Once he is fully stretched out, face down, his legs sticking out of the doorway, Anne ties another length of the black rubber cording to his already bound ankles and then pulls the cording up towards his tethered wrists, thus forcing the gorgeous she-male into a tight, painful hog-tie that is secured in place when Anne ties the free end of the cording to the length so effectively binding his wrists together. It is only now that poor Chris’s trussed form is completely contained by the tiny cupboard: bound, double gagged, his senses tormented by the sweet perfume of his mistresses, locked in a tight, inescapable hog-tie, unable to move an inch. He is strapped ultra-tightly in a grim, claustrophobic prison, a prison which is suddenly made doubly terrifying by a simple flick of the light switch and his subsequent descent into an awful, total darkness.

  ‘I think an hour should help you understand the importance of absolute body control, Chrissie.’

  Helen’s cruel, cold words fill him with a very genuine fear, which is made more intense as the door is closed and locked. The wooden panelling of the door immediately presses against his tethered, heeled feet and pushes him into an even more uncomfortable position. He tries to move, even an inch, but the ultra-tight bonds and the tiny space he has been forced into make any movement utterly impossible. All he can do is listen to the hoarse, desperate sound of his laboured breathing and feel the terrible burning deep in his tormented buttocks begin to melt into a gentle sex-heat and spread teasingly between his legs and into his tortured, rock-solid sex. All he can do is feel ever more excited by his strange she-male predicament, feel increasing waves of powerful masochistic desire occupy and possess his sissified body and infect his mind with an absolute addiction for feminisation and complete submission to these three beautiful women who have so quickly and effectively taken over his life.

  As the delicate tastes of Donna and the pungent perfumes of Helen fill his mouth and nose, as he plunges through this boundless darkness into a realm of total sex sensation, he knows this is all he has ever truly desired, that due to some bizarre, heavenly intervention by the forces of fate, he has been given the opportunity to become his own fantasy, an opportunity he is now accepting without a moment of hesitation, despite this terrifying ordeal of deprivation, this heart-stopping premature burial in hose, panties and the very highest of heels.

  Then there is Donna, the glorious, transcendent Donna. Now his first lover and foremost mistress. The woman he has so secretly desired for so long, who has accepted his true nature with an obvious erotic attraction. Not only does Donna want Chris, she most clearly wants Christina even more!

  For the next hour, he is lost in this realm of desire and destiny, contemplating his future, committing himself utterly to the fate that his three wonderful mistresses have planned for him. And by the time they return, by the time the door is unlocked and the light explodes into his momentarily blinded eyes, he knows there will be no return to his old male self, no slow, painful road twisting regretfully into the past. Now, there is only the truth of the ultra-feminine moment.

  He is untied and helped back to his feet. The layers of bondage are removed. Gradually, slowly, even painfully, he is allowed to regain his balance. He curtseys his gratitude and it is clear to all his mistresses that he has loved every moment of his sissy imprisonment. Soon he is back before the dressing table mirror, Donna lovingly touching up his near-perfect make-up. Then, after a quiet, secret kiss between the two lovers, a kiss that leaves poor Chris swooning in his mile-high heels and drinking deep of the look of unconditional need in Donna’s soft, sparkling blue eyes, he is redressed in his sexy maid’s attire and returned to his new life of servitude, spending the rest of the evening mincing happily before Helen, Anne and Donna, obeying each command with a sissy smile, ensuring that each task is carried out with a beautifully exaggerated feminine delicacy.

  Of course, the end comes too soon. At just before midnight, Chris is returned to the spare room and carefully turned back into Chris, his eyes so easily betraying his disappointment as he is transformed back into a mere male.

  ‘Don’t look so upset, Chrissie,’ Helen says, as Donna helps her she-male lover to remove his layers of make-up. ‘I’ve bought these for you…to help you through the days ahead, and to help reinforce your new feminine persona.’

  She then steps back to reveal a new set of clothing laid out on the bed. At first sight the clothing seems to be the various separate elements of another male business suit. But then Helen takes up the jacket and holds it before him.

  ‘I believe the expression is “hide in plain sight”. The jacket and the trousers are cut from a very fine and expensive black silk. From a distance they look just like a simple male suit, but they are actually the most feminine of garments disguised as male clothing. The trousers are made from the same material, but there is no zipper and they have a deliberately tight, bottom-enhancing back panel. You will wear these with this blouse.’

  She places the jacket on the bed and then takes up a semi-transparent white silk shirt with gleaming silver-grey buttons.

  ‘The blouse can be worn with a tie. You will also wear these shoes.’

  Anne then steps forwards, holding another pink rectangular box. Inside is a pair of black patent leather, slip-on shoes, with rather high, square heels and a silver buckle. On the face of it, male shoes, but cut from very feminine materials: the theme of this entire and very appropriate disguise, a disguise that fills Chris with a new, powerful arousal.

  Then Donna walks up to the bed and produces one more item of sexy attire: a very beautiful, white silk, lace-trimmed teddy.

  ‘Wear this beneath the suit, with a pair of your very best tights. I chose it for you especially, Chrissie.’

  Chris smiles at her helplessly, lovingly, obsessively. He is enslaved, possessed, completely and inescapably enthralled. Now, every second of every day he will be feminised! The permanence of his transformation strikes him like a fist in a velvet glove. Shocked, excited, amazed, he watches as the suit is carefully packed into a black leather hold-all and then placed on the bed before him. Then, his make-up removed, he is undressed by Donna, slowly stripped down to his fierce, rigid and tightly stockinged erection and the wig. Then Donna makes her slave lean forwards so that she can carefully remove the wig, a smile of darkest desire caressing her lovely face. As Chris leans forwards, Donna pulls the wig free of his head and then lets her free hand idly brush against the tormented, imprisoned sex. Poor Chris can only gasp with a fundamentally tortured need and press his sex against the offending hand.

  ‘Not tonight, Chrissie. As Helen said – it’s time for you to learn restraint.’

  For a split second a look of anger fills the she-male’s lovely eyes, his terrible frustration all too evident.

  ‘Now, now, Chrissie. You promised to obey me, didn’t you?’

  Then the anger has gone. Chris curtseys his ackn
owledgement of this inescapable fact, a small tear trickling from his right eye.

  ‘Good. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs. I’ll give you a lift home.’

  The three women leave the room. On the bed, by the hold-all, he finds his original work clothes, plus a pair of white nylon panties. The uniform of Chris, the dress that makes him a weak, useless man. Still tightly stockinged, and now very disappointed, he dresses quickly and then walks from the room, his movements still unavoidably feminine: even in his original work shoes, he cannot help but take small, sissy steps and wiggle his pantied backside provocatively.

  He presents himself to his three gorgeous mistresses just before half past midnight. Helen makes it clear that he will be expected to return to work in the morning in his new clothes and that he will continue to act as their maidservant each evening for the next fortnight. She also makes it very clear that she will expect to see Chrissie in his office first thing the next morning for a foot massage. The thought brings a moan of pleasure to the sissy’s lips and he performs a particularly deep curtsey to register his understanding and intention to comply without question.