Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

  Helen opens the rear passenger door of her car and helps a mincing, nervous Christina climb into the back. As the sexy she-male does so, she finds herself struggling with the very high heels and the ultra-short mini-skirt rides up her shapely, finely hosed legs, exposing her pretty panties to full view. Poor Christina blushes furiously as Helen and Donna burst into laughter.

  ‘You’ll have to do better than that in the town, Christina,’ Helen jokes, ‘or the boys will be in for a very entertaining treat.’

  As Christina hurriedly pulls her legs together and straightens her skirt, Donna and Helen climb into the front of the car. Helen starts the engine and slowly guides the car out onto the main road. As she does so, a sense of skin-tingling anticipation washes over the gorgeous she-male. Rather than the fear and anxiety she had expected, her ‘debut’ outside of the house is an intensely exciting and liberating event. Now she is very much looking forward to revealing herself in the town, to finally stepping out of the closet and into the big, wide world. She now sees that this is the only way she will ever truly become Christina.

  As the car heads into the town centre, there is very little conversation. Christina finds herself staring longingly at the back of her mistresses’ lovely heads and contemplating the afternoon ahead. And by the time Helen drives the car into a large multi-storey car park in the centre of town, Christina’s sissy heart is pounding with a helpless she-male excitement. Now she is positively desperate to be out of the car and on the street, open to the gazes of all the other shoppers, fully exposed, yet at the same time so expertly disguised.

  They park on the top floor of the crowded car park and Donna helps Christina out of the car. Unfortunately, her exit is no less revealing than her entrance, and once again poor Christina is tormented by the cruel laughter of the women. But soon they are walking across the car park. Finally, Christina is fully in the outside world. But it is not until they leave the car park and suddenly plunge into the mayhem of the Saturday afternoon shopping frenzy that the full impact of Christina’s exposure crashes over her expertly feminised body like a vast wave of erotic self-realisation. Yet this is more than just the startling face of reality: this is reality heightened, reality expanded and deepened, reality accentuated almost unbearably by sex.

  She takes small, dainty steps, she wiggles her barely covered bottom, her delicately hosed thighs rub together and the dildo travels deeper into her. The very convincing false breasts bounce merrily before her and she fights the urge to shout out her excitement and delight. Then there are the eyes, the eyes of the men especially. Suddenly she sees what all beautiful women must see every day of their lives: the hungry, helplessly fascinated, desiring eyes of men, eyes drinking up this gorgeous sex-pot, eyes filled with need and desperation. Yet, for Christina, there is nothing intimidating in these eyes. Indeed, it soon becomes clear that it is the men who are intimidated, that behind their desire is a very real fear of such powerful, blatant and, in some ways, unobtainable beauty. Yes, powerful beauty, the strength of this sexy, forceful exhibition. They want me, yet they fear me. And they want me because they fear me. And it is these simple, obvious thoughts that encourage her, that and the more aggressive confessions of fearful desire, the cheeky remarks, the wolf whistles, even on one occasion, a very quick and arousing pat on her shapely, hosed behind.

  ‘You’re quite a hit, Christina,’ Helen teases, as they cut through the crowds.

  ‘Do you like it, all this attention, all these sad male eyes burning into you?’

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ Christina confesses. ‘I thought it would be frightening, or horrible. But it’s really rather sexy.’

  ‘Turns you on, does it?’ Donna asks, her own eyes filled with desire.

  ‘Yes, mistress. Very much.’

  They arrive at the women’s clothing store soon after this exchange, a large, elegant and obviously very exclusive shop that stands proudly in the centre of the main shopping complex. The two women lead their she-male slave through large, gold edge glass doors. And almost as they step through this doorway, a very plump, yet strikingly beautiful woman appears from between two long rows of dresses, her thick, strawberry blonde hair styled in a classic film star cut and gleaming under the powerful white light that fills the shop. She is dressed in a black silk suit consisting of a loose-fitting jacket and a skirt reaching down to just below her knees, a high-necked white silk blouse with a diamond broach centrepiece placed beneath its frilled collar, jet black hose and matching black patent leather, stiletto heeled court shoes. Her eyes are a stunning pale blue, her lips a sparkling blood red. As she smiles warmly at the new customers, she reveals a generous double chin and a very full, yet pleasantly chubby face.

  ‘Helen, how nice to see you again. Anne told me you would be popping in.’

  Helen smiles and Christina watches as they share a very warm embrace.

  ‘Amanda, this is Donna, my friend, and this, as you probably know, is Christina, our maid.’

  Christina blushes at Helen’s description and then astounds herself by performing a deep, sexy curtsey that brings an even wider smile to Amanda’s lovely mouth.

  ‘My, my. Yes, indeed. Anne told me all about Christina, but I never expected this! She’s incredible. I mean…she…he?’

  Amanda stares at Christina in amazement, her mouth slowly dropping open, her eyes widening as the true extent of the she-male sinks in.

  ‘She,’ Helen corrects. ‘Very definitely she .’

  Still obviously astounded, Amanda leads the two women and Christina down a marble floored walkway that runs between row after row of beautiful and clearly very expensive dresses hanging from golden framed racks. A number of elegant, extremely well dressed women are looking through the racks, one or two attended by younger women dressed in what is obviously the store uniform: a very tight white nylon sweater, a very short black shirt, black tights and high heels.

  Eventually, they reach the rear of the shop. It is here that lingerie and shoes are displayed, the shoes on a series of wooden shelves, the various items of lingerie either on showroom dummies or further golden-edged racks. Beyond the racks are a series of curtained changing rooms and a door. They go through the door and then down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor is a large office and just before the office, another door, which leads into a private changing and viewing room.

  It is this room into which Amanda leads the two women and the lovely, startled she-male.

  The room is perfectly oval. It is painted a soft yellow, with a sky-blue carpet, a number of striking watercolour nudes hanging at regular intervals from the curving wall, and a large, white leather sofa at its centre. Next to the sofa is a wooden, leather-backed chair and a glass-topped coffee table. Amanda asks Helen and Donna to sit on the sofa. She sits on the wooden chair. It is made clear that Christina is to remain standing.

  ‘Anne mentioned that you were looking for quite formal attire, formal but sexy?’

  As she speaks, Amanda’s large, very beautiful blue eyes crawl over Christina’s expertly feminised body. She is fascinated, yet also disturbed. It is clear that this is not what she was expecting, that the reality, or rather the conviction of the transformation, is much stronger than she had previously thought possible. And even as Helen is nodding in response to her question, Amanda is confessing her disturbance.

  ‘He…she’s so very convincing, Helen. And so beautiful. How on earth did you find a man…a…’

  ‘Christina had been practising before we met her. But I think it is fair to say that we have helped her realise her full potential.’

  Christina curtseys her appreciation of Helen’s remarks and Amanda’s smile widens.

  ‘And she is totally obedient?’ Amanda asks.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Helen responds. ‘Christina is intensely masochistic, so she actually takes pleasure in her servitude. In fact, the more we humiliate her, the more excited she seems to become.’

  Amanda’s smile widens even further. She sits back slightly and th
en slowly crosses her legs, allowing the modest black silk skirt to rise up her legs to the border between her mid- and upper thigh. Despite her generous figure, Christina immediately notices that Amanda has very long, shapely legs and feels her sex expand hungrily inside its inescapable rubber prison.

  ‘You’re very lucky, Helen,’ the plump blonde whispers.

  ‘Maybe. But personally I think Christina is the lucky one.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps she is. But I know a lot of women who would pay quite a lot to spend time with a pretty she-male slave girl.’

  Helen smiles sympathetically. ‘Perhaps we could arrange for Christina to spend some time with you, to help you round the shop, or maybe act as your house maid for a day. I’m sure Christina would be more than willing to demonstrate the possibilities of her servitude.’

  Christina listens in amazement and watches as Amanda’s smile widens even further.

  ‘Yes, that would be very nice. I’ll talk to Anne.’

  There is a brief pause during which Amanda’s eyes remain fixed on Christina. Then there is a knock at the door. Shaken from her trance, Amanda utters a curt ‘Enter’. The door opens and a rack of clothing is pushed into the room by one of the erotically uniformed assistants, a very pretty brunette, certainly no more than eighteen years of age, and her eyes fix immediately on the stunning she-male beauty.

  ‘Thank you, Myriam,’ Amanda says, her eyes regarding the brunette in an obviously sexual manner. ‘Please bring the rack into the centre, and I’d be grateful if you would stay and help Christina.’

  The lovely brunette smiles shyly and whispers ‘Yes, Miss Chalmers’, in a thick, very sexy southern French accent.

  Under Amanda’s instruction, Myriam then steps forwards and begins to help Christina strip down to her sexy undies. Myriam’s jet black hair is styled in a very short page boy manner. She has incredibly large, very soft brown eyes that peer up at Christina with an intense and very sexual curiosity. Her wide, sensual mouth, painted a light peach, widens into a shy smile as she begins to unbutton Christina’s suit jacket and the she-male fights a gasp of pleasure, her own eyes feasting on Myriam’s very large breasts pressing teasingly against the erotic material of the tight white nylon sweater and, for such a small beauty, her very long, black nylon-sheathed legs.

  With Myriam’s assistance, Christina spends the next two hours in an almost sublime state of intense embarrassment and wild desire. Aroused and humiliated, aroused because humiliated, she models every item of clothing on the rack. Skirts, blouses, dresses, jackets: a whole variety of formal yet very feminine attire

  And as she models these lovely outfits for her mistresses, she listens to their conversation with an interest regularly undermined by the close proximity of the lovely Myriam. It quickly becomes clear that Amanda is Anne’s lover. Not only that, but the two women live together. This information alone is enough to make Christina’s eyes widen in amazement. Despite Anne’s dark nature and apparent sadistic streak, the she-male has never even remotely considered the possibility that she might be a lesbian. And as she considers this new, surprising fact, she also recalls the rumours that have surrounded Katherine and Helen for so long. Most people in the office consider Katherine to be a lesbian of some sort and Helen is seen as her not so secret object of desire. But now Christina finds herself wondering if Katherine’s desire is in fact rooted in some deeper knowledge of Helen’s true nature.

  Eventually, three separate outfits are chosen from the rack. As Myriam gathers up the clothes, Donna asks Amanda if she has any ‘nightwear’.

  ‘Something erotic,’ Donna adds, her gorgeous eyes falling longingly on a highly aroused Christina.

  Amanda smiles knowingly and then tells Myriam to return to the shop and find something suitable. Still stripped down to her undies, Christina is told not to dress until the gorgeous assistant returns. Meanwhile Helen rises from the leather sofa and walks over to the sexy she-male beauty.

  ‘You’re a big hit with Amanda,’ she whispers, running a long, blood-red-nailed index finger over the front of her slave’s pretty panties and inspiring a moan of desperate pleasure.

  ‘Thank you, mistress,’ Christina gasps.

  ‘I think you should spend some time with her. She’ll be very useful to us in the future and I want her to see the advantages of involving herself in your transformation. Do you understand?’

  Christina answers with a deep, affirming curtsey.

  ‘Good. I’ll tell her you’ll come over on Monday.’

  As her spinning sissy mind attempts to deal with the implications of Helen’s words, Myriam returns to the room carrying a large black box and hands it to Amanda.

  ‘I think this is the sort of thing you’re probably looking for,’ Amanda says to Donna, placing the box at the gorgeous blonde’s side.

  Donna thanks her and removes the lid. From inside she takes a stunning pink silk baby-doll nightdress, which has been frilled at the short sleeves, very high neck and wide, also very short hem with thick cherry-red fur. As well as the nightdress, Donna also produces a pair of very skimpy, see-through pink panties.

  Smiling broadly, she turns her lovely blue eyes onto the scantily glad, highly aroused Christina.

  ‘Oh, I think these will do wonderfully, Amanda. Don’t you agree, Chrissie?’

  Christina curtseys weakly and whispers a hoarse, ‘Yes, mistress.’

  The women burst into laughter at this helplessly aroused response. Donna then packs the nightdress back into the box as Myriam, supervised by Amanda, packs the other clothing that Helen has chosen for her beautiful sissy slave. Helen then orders Christina to put her original clothing back on and turns to Amanda.

  ‘You’ve been marvellous, as usual. I’ll make sure that Christina is at your house by 8.30 a.m. sharp on Monday morning. I’m sure you’ll find her very accommodating.’

  Amanda thanks Helen and her gaze slowly passes over the lovely she-male, who curtsies her own thanks to this generously proportioned beauty and the lovely, petite but very shapely Myriam, whose beautiful brown eyes still betray a very powerful and deeply perverse desire.

  It is well after 4.00 p.m. by the time the two women and their she-male servant leave the shop. Once outside, Christina is again overwhelmed with an intense excitement and all thoughts of her impending adventure with Amanda quickly fade.

  Carrying two large, elegantly designed bags full of the sexy clothing Helen and Donna have chosen for her, Christina minces prettily behind her two mistresses, making sure to keep her legs as tightly together as possible, her steps as short as possible and thus her wiggling bottom teasingly prominent. Wolf whistles and bawdy comments follow the sexy she-male across the shopping centre and into a small photography shop located only a few hundred yards from the multi-storey car park. Christina is led inside by her two beautiful mistresses, her sissy heart once again pumping desperately with aroused anticipation.

  The walls of the shop are covered in portrait photographs and very little else. Three much larger group portraits are placed on tripod stands by the front window. At the rear of the shop is tiny counter and sitting behind it is a pretty teenage girl reading a newspaper. She only looks up from the paper when Helen, standing impatiently at the counter, coughs angrily.

  The girl looks up, her eyes filled with boredom.

  ‘Yes?’ she mumbles.

  ‘We’re here to see Ingrid. I’m Helen, this is Donna and this,’ she says, pointing at Christina, ‘is the commission I mentioned over the phone this morning.’

  The girl suddenly sits bolt upright, drops the paper and begins nodding nervously, her wide eyes never leaving Christina.

  ‘Yes. Er, sorry. I’ll go and get Miss Hessler.’

  She then jumps up and disappears through a curtain into the back of the shop.

  Helen sighs impatiently and turns to Donna. ‘Why does Ingrid work here? What a terrible dump!’

  As Helen bemoans the shop, the curtain parts and, to Christina’s surprise, a very tall blonde w
oman enters the shop, a stunning Nordic beauty with piercing ice-blue eyes and golden hair that stretches down over her broad shoulders, a woman dressed in a very tight white T-shirt and jeans which display her very voluptuous figure perfectly. She smiles at Helen and Donna and looks very carefully at Christina.

  ‘This is…her?’

  Her accent is heavy, German or Scandinavian, and her eyes betray a steel-hard countenance that sends a shiver of fear down Christina’s sissy spine.