Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

  He sucks hungrily on her teat. At one point he accidentally nibbles at her breast, but the loud moan she subsequently emits is one of pleasure rather than pain, and she quietly encourages Chris to continue. Soon, she is moaning continually and demanding he transfer his very effective oral ministrations to the other breast. After five more minutes, a powerful shudder runs through Helen’s body and a cry of pleasure explodes from her wide, sensual mouth. Her orgasm is a terrible reminder of the pleasure he is denied, yet even as she comes violently he continues to suck desperately on her large, silken bosom.

  Eventually, Helen gently detaches the sexy sissy slave from her breast and orders him to get up from the bed. As he does so, she slips back into the bra. He faces her in a state of shock, his eyes cast modestly down at her shoes.

  ‘You seem to have a lot of erotic talents, Chrissie. I will expect you to suckle me regularly.’

  He eagerly curtseys and her smile widens.

  ‘Now, as a special reward, I think you should be very tightly bound and gagged. Would you like that?’

  Another deep sissy curtsey makes it very clear that he would and she orders him to shuffle over to the cot. As he does so, his heart beating with masochistic anticipation, Helen slips back into the sweater then glides over to the dressing table. From within one of its drawers, she takes a familiar roll of silver masking tape. From another drawer she takes a pile of black stockings.

  ‘Kneel down,’ she says, her eyes still quite glazed by the pleasure of Chris’s expert suckling.

  He curtseys and then carefully kneels down beside the cot. She walks up to him and drops the stockings and tape at his side, leaving his face inches from her blue skirt.

  ‘I’m rather wet now, Chrissie, so I’ll have to change my panties and tights,’ she purrs, ‘but it seems such a shame to put them in the wash when you’re here to appreciate all their secret aromas.’

  His eyes wide, his cock struggling angrily against the evil metal rings, he watches in an agony of frustrated desire and amazement as she then proceeds to unzip her skirt and let it fall to the floor before him. Her long, strong, yet still very shapely legs, so elegant and sensually sheathed in the sheer white nylon, are revealed to him in all their statuesque glory, as is a very large damp patch around her panties and the powerful, arousing aroma of her sex.

  As she slowly teases her legs out of the tights, poor Chris moans with a new desperation. Yet even this is merely an overture; for as soon as the tights have joined the skirt, Chris finds himself facing head-on Helen’s soaking, white silk panties, panties that the splendid dominatrix then proceeds to pull slowly down her smooth, muscular legs, revealing a thick sex-forest covered in the golden honey of her come. Chris moans wildly as she lets the panties fall to her knees and then presses his face into her sex.

  ‘It’s a pity there isn’t more time for you to use that gifted sissy mouth of yours,’ she whispers, rubbing her flooded pubic hair against his marble chin.

  Then she steps back, leaving him gasping with almost deranged hunger. Now completely naked from the waist down, she steps out of the panties, picks them up and presses them into his face. The smell of her, the powerful, sweet perfume, is a brutal aphrodisiac that inspires another loud moan. She then insists he open his mouth as wide as possible, rolls up the panties and rams them home. He gasps as his mouth is completely filled with her most intimate garment and the scents and tastes of her flood once again deep into his consciousness. And no sooner have the panties been forced into place than she has taken up the roll of masking tape, tears off a long, thick strip and spread it firmly over his sissy lips, thus trapping the panties deep inside his mouth. Then, to his surprise, she carefully removes the gorgeous blonde wig and places it at her feet, taking up the tights as she does so and beginning to roll one of the legs into a wide open bowl. He watches in confused fascination as she then proceeds to reverse the bowl, place it on his head, and then begin to pull the widened leg down over his face. Soon, thanks to her considerable strength and skill, he is literally enveloped in hose! His face is pushed flat against the tight nylon and breathing becomes very difficult. A sense of panic overwhelms him as Helen then carefully positions the hose mask so that the soaked gusset section is directly over his nose and taped mouth and the free leg is dangling from the front of his face like a weird nylon trunk! Once she has done this, she takes the free leg and tightly wraps it around his eyes and uses another, longer strip of the masking tape to hold it in place, spreading the tape from ear to ear and thus also across his eyes. He is blindfolded, deafened and gagged. His only remaining unrestricted senses are touch and smell, yet even these are severely limited by the mittens and the pungent hose gusset stretched so tightly over his squashed nostrils.

  Sealed in a sex-soaked sensory deprivation chamber of hose and feminine frillies, his breathing now hard but eventually even and regular, he is helped to his bootied feet. In an utter sex-perfumed darkness, all sounds muffled to the point of incomprehension, he is helped into the cot and made to lay face down on the rubber mattress. His arms are then forced behind his back and tied tightly together with two of the stockings at his mittened wrists and elbows. His hosed ankles and knees are likewise bound with more stockings. Then another stocking is tied to the stocking binding his ankles and used to pull his ankles upward towards his tethered wrists. Very soon he has been pulled into an extremely severe hog tie and his ankles and wrists have bound tightly together.

  It is in this uncomfortable, pinioned, utterly helpless state that he is left. He feels Helen’s hands stroke his hosed cheeks and moans helplessly and fearfully. But then there is nothing. He cannot move, speak, see, feel or hear. He is lost in a terrible, absolute numbness where all he can contemplate is the intense, powerful smell of his mistress and the memory of his mouth suckling her large, warm breasts. And in the centre of this bizarre ordeal is the most profound pleasure, the most delicious sense of all-pervasive helplessness. The plug tickles his widening anus, the cock-ring tortures his stiff sex; he cries with pleasure into the fat panty gag, and all he can hear is the sound of his sissy heart pounding with masochistic ecstasy.

  * * *

  He has no idea how long he is kept in this divine, fetishistic state of imprisonment. Maybe an hour, maybe two. He quickly loses track of time and space and finds himself falling into a bottomless pit of pure sensation and molten desire. How desperately he now wants, indeed needs to serve his three glorious mistresses; how desperately he wants to submit to all their inventive, wicked humiliations. He is nothing without this and the burning femininity that is now flowing over his psyche like a river of flames.

  By the time he feels hands exploring his tethered body, he is numb in both mind and body and desiring only more of this absolute servitude. Gradually, his intricate bonds are freed and he returns to the mysterious reality of Helen’s beautiful home. And eventually, the hose mask is carefully removed and he is allowed to see the flat, sweat-soaked surface of the cot’s pink rubber mattress.

  ‘Just relax, Chrissie; let me get you out of all these stockings. Helen’s got a bit of a thing about tying you up.’

  Donna’s voice inspires a sense of deep relief and a renewed excitement. He moans thankfully into the tight panty- and tape-gag and lies still while she slowly struggles to free him from Helen’s kinky handiwork.

  Eventually, all the stockings have been removed. Donna turns him over and helps him sit up. As life returns to his body, she peels off the tape-gag and then eases the fat, pungent panty-gag from his tormented mouth. It is only as she does this that he notices she has removed the white dress and now stands before him in a white leather basque, white stockings and the high-heeled shoes. His eyes widen and she laughs.

  ‘Helen warned me you might be a bit sweaty, so I slipped out of the dress – just in case.’

  He finds her explanation slightly odd, but doesn’t really care: the sight of this beautiful woman, this gorgeous muse who has entered his life and so lovingly taken his virginity,
who has proven his masculinity in the very act of ensuring his sweet, silken slavery as a she-male maidservant, fills him with an intense, almost overwhelming joy and a fierce sexual arousal. Yet this arousal has its own unique consequences, and he is soon wincing as the restrainer bites mercilessly into his hardening, restrained sex.

  ‘Don’t get too carried away, Chrissie – you know what’ll happen.’

  But her words can have no real effect: his desire, his brutal masochistic need, has complete control over his every thought now, and it is a need these glorious women are manipulating with a terrifying ease.

  She unlocks the barred side of the cot and helps Chris step down onto the carpeted floor. He is then led from the impromptu nursery into the bathroom and made to strip down to the cruel restrainer, her smile widening as each item of sissy attire is slowly removed, his poor, tormented eyes never leaving Donna’s splendid, ultra-sexy form.

  Once he is standing naked before his most beloved mistress, she steps forwards and looks deep into his eyes.

  ‘I’m going to remove the restrainer, Chrissie. Then I’m going to remove the stocking. And then I’m going to bathe you. This will be the sternest test of your love for me. You have to prove that you really do love me. It will be simple yet also very hard to do this. All you have to do is avoid coming. Do you think you can manage that?’

  He looks at her with desire-stricken eyes, then performs the weakest of curtseys. She smiles and then slips her long, elegant hands over the cock-ring. He moans as she opens the two rings and pulls the device from his long-tormented sex.

  An even bigger moan follows the slow, teasing removal of the stocking and the full revelation of his sex, so fully, brutally erect, and so very desperate. Then, to his horror, she runs a teasing finger along its enflamed shaft.

  ‘Only a week, Chrissie, then I’ll show you what real pleasure is.’

  As he gasps his appalling frustration, she takes him by the hand and leads him into the shower. Then, before his utterly defeated, appalled, sex-starved eyes, she performs a slow, wicked striptease, and within a few dreadful minutes is in the shower with him, her glorious naked form rubbing up against his. She turns the shower tap and they are both immediately covered in a warm sheet of water. She then takes up a scented bar of soap, smiles sweetly and begins to drive him insane.

  She covers his body in a thick layer of soap suds, paying particular attention to his cock and balls and quickly producing angry cries of intense frustration and even fear as all the while the threat of an uncontrollable, explosive orgasm hangs over his pretty, sissy head.

  ‘Control, Chrissie; restraint. Remember what Helen said.’

  Tears fill his eyes as she then proceeds to explore his back passage with a soapy finger, seeking out the plug and pushing it in a little deeper.

  ‘You like the plug, don’t you, Chrissie?’

  He moans his assent and she laughs gently.

  ‘Next week, I’ll use a full-size dildo for a few nights to widen you a little further. Soon you’ll be able to take a very big, tasty cock.’

  He prays, he pleads with all the mysterious forces of the universe. She rubs her warm, soaking breasts against his chest and he imagines the end of the world, the largest fireball ever seen engulfing him in a blinding moment of startling orgasmic fury.

  Then, to his relief and despair, she has stepped back from his body and is turning the shower off.

  ‘You did very well, Chrissie. I’m impressed and touched – you tried really hard for me.’

  His eyes glazed, his cock like a rod of white-hot steel, he moans pathetically and feels hot tears of brutal frustration begin to trickle down his scented cheeks.

  Once they are out of the shower, Donna carefully dries her adoring slave and herself, at one point wrapping them both in the large white towel and returning Chris to the whirlpool of teasing and frustration Donna seems determined to make his mental home.

  Once dried, he is covered from neck to toe in a rose-scented perfume and led back to the nursery. Here, to his surprise, a new outfit has been laid out on the bed – a cherry-red version of the baby girl dress, together with matching red plastic panties, seamed red stockings and an even more spectacular red silk and satin bonnet. Also on the bed is a large, fresh nappy, the white mini-corset and a beautiful white silk pinafore. As he is led up to the edge of the bed, he also notices that on the floor is a very dainty pair of red patent leather Mary Jane shoes.

  ‘You’ll be required to act as our baby maid this evening, Chrissie, so Helen has provided a suitable costume.’

  Staring with utter fascination at this new and very elaborate costume, Chris performs a curtsey of understanding. Then, over the next hour, he is carefully recreated as Baby Chrissie. A fresh black nylon stocking is slipped teasingly over his cock and the terrible rings are snapped painfully back in place. As before, he is dressed in the humiliating baby underwear and then made up in the china doll style. After this, the dress and the lovely pinafore are carefully positioned over his sissy body and he moans with pleasure as the gorgeous Donna secures the pinafore in place at the base of his spine with a very large baby bow.

  After the dress and the pinafore, the wig is refitted, as is the large, phallic dummy gag, which she pops between his lovely red lips with a teasing laugh and the loveliest of smiles. The gorgeous red bonnet is trimmed with even more lace than its predecessor and decorated with a pattern of silk roses. Then, satisfied that her charge is suitably transformed, she helps him to step into the square-heeled Mary Janes and buckles them tightly in place.

  ‘You look absolutely stunning, Chrissie.’

  Her words, spoken in a hushed, sex-hardened voice, bring a well-gagged gasp of intense, red-hot need to his stopped lips. Yet even now his fetishistic transformation is not complete; for, as she teases him with words of desire, she returns to the dressing table and produces a pair of red latex rubber gloves. Still smiling gently, she then slips these over his hands.

  ‘You’ll need these to serve,’ she says, her gorgeous eyes seeking out his, her hands gently securing the pearl buttons built into the sides of the gloves around his thin, girlish wrists.

  Then she leads him over to the mirror built into the front of the new wardrobe and once again he is facing an image of startling sissy perfection, a truly perfect vision of utter and deeply erotic submission that sends shudders of profound sexual delight through his feminised body.

  ‘It’s better than perfection, Chrissie,’ Donna whispers, her hands sliding behind the layers of frou-frou petticoating to caress his red nylon-sheathed thighs.

  Soon, he is returned to the living room and his other mistresses. As he curtseys before them, Helen and Anne are clearly very impressed by this latest incarnation of Chrissie and compliment Donna on her make-up and dress skills. Then he is led to the kitchen and returned to the high-chair. A large bib is fitted around his befrilled neck and his hands are tied to the sides of the chair. Donna then slowly feeds him another baby food concoction, a rusk and two full bottles of the creamy milk, all of which he consumes with some desperation, the trials of the afternoon having given him a ferocious appetite. And all the time, Donna teases him with the most delightful and very exciting baby talk, adding to his exquisite sense of utter humiliation and ensuring that his sex remains in a state of almost constant discomfort.

  The rest of the evening passes like a surreal hallucination. After his baby meal, he is set to work helping serve dinner to his gorgeous mistresses. Most bizarrely, Donna never bothers to slip back into the dress and spends the whole evening in her sexy underwear. Poor Chris can subsequently hardly keep his eyes off her and receives a number of very hard slaps to his stockinged thighs from both Anne and Helen to ensure his continued attention to his maidservant tasks.

  At the end of the evening, he is made to kneel once again before his seated mistresses in the living room and demonstrate his considerable oral skills. For an entire hour he eagerly inspires orgasm after orgasm and, by the time the livi
ng room clock strikes 11.00 p.m., he is covered in their intimate juices and they are all very obviously exhausted.

  It is left to Donna to return him to his cot, still fully dressed in the red baby maid’s outfit. Once he is secured in place, she gently kisses him on the forehead and bids him sweet dreams. He stares up at her, his sissy eyes filled with appalling desperation as her splendid breasts, so tightly restrained by the basque, stare back down at him.

  With a brief, slightly sad smile, she then leaves and he is soon once again plunged into darkness. His first day as Baby Chrissie is over and, as he quickly drops, utterly exhausted, into a very deep sleep, he is already looking forward to the trials and humiliations of the next day.

  * * *

  The rest of the week passes like the strangest, kinkiest and thus, for Chris, most erotic dream imaginable. From the Sunday of this babified week, it becomes clear that he will be required to work as well as entertain his three lovely mistresses. On the Sunday morning, he finds himself in another version of the pretty sissy baby maid’s dress, this time an elaborate powder-blue version, complete with matching stockings, plastic panties, and Mary Janes. Tightly sealed in a matching bonnet, dummy-gagged, his hands freed from the mittens (but still wrapped in matching latex gloves), his dress protected by another beautiful white silk pinafore, he spends the day cleaning, ironing, washing and helping Helen cook. From the first moment of his early morning transformation to the moment when he presents himself fearfully before his mistresses after completing the post-dinner washing up, there is nothing but surprisingly hard work and strict instruction in the methods of this work from Helen, Donna and Anne.