Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

Helen smiles and nods. ‘Ingrid, meet Christina. Christina, say hello to Mistress Ingrid.’

  Christina performs a suitably deep and submissive curtsey and Ingrid bursts out laughing.

  ‘Good grief!’ she shouts, tossing back her golden river of hair. ‘What a stunner! Where on earth did you find him or her? We can make a fortune!’

  ‘Anne seems to agree with you.’

  ‘Yes, she left a message. I’ll ring her later.’

  Poor Christina hasn’t the foggiest idea what these gorgeous women are talking about. But whatever it is, she feels certain it will involve even more bizarre and ultra-kinky adventures.

  ‘Bring her through,’ Ingrid says. ‘Everything is ready.’

  Helen then leads Christina around the counter and through the tatty curtain. She finds herself in an ill-lit corridor that smells badly of damp. She minces slowly along behind her mistresses until they reach a large metal door near the end of the corridor. Ingrid opens the door and they are suddenly covered in a powerful white light.

  ‘Ladies first,’ Ingrid jokes, and Helen ushers Christina inside.

  To her amazement, Christina almost immediately discovers herself in a very large photographic studio, a vast white-walled room housing a vast array of hi-tech photographic equipment, numerous backdrops and, in one corner, what appears to be a very large bed.

  Helen seems as surprised as Christina.

  ‘Amazing,’ she says. ‘And the place looks such a dump from the outside.’

  Her deep, sensual voice echoes around the cavernous room, as does the collective sound of their high heels striking the concrete floor.

  ‘The shop is a front. As seventy-five per cent of my work is of a rather intimate nature, I find it much easier to work behind the disguise of drabness and mediocrity. Now let’s see what we can do with your pretty sissy, Helen.’

  Ingrid then takes Christina by the hand and guides her onto a circular platform in the centre of the room. Resting on the platform is a metal-framed stool. Christina is made to sit on the stool with her long, delicately hosed legs crossed while Ingrid takes a camera from a side table and aims it directly at the lovely she-male.

  ‘Anne tells me she has actually started an internet site for Christina,’ Ingrid says, seeking out good angles to photograph the gorgeous sissy, ‘that it will eventually become a pay site, concentrating on heavy S&M. It sounds very ambitious.’

  Christina listens in horror and amazement as Ingrid then takes a number of preliminary pictures.

  ‘Yes,’ Helen replies. ‘Anne has been inspired. Given her connections and tastes, she seems to have discovered the perfect hobby.’

  ‘A hobby that could make serious money,’ Ingrid says, moving in very close to Christina’s legs.

  ‘If everything works out, she’ll begin working full-time on the site very soon. And that’s why she’ll be needing your help.’

  It is then that Ingrid begins to shout instructions at Christina – ways to pose, attitudes to adopt. At first Christina is terribly embarrassed by these demands, but after a few minutes finds her new feminine self is certainly far more relaxed about public ‘performance’ than her previous male identity. Indeed, it is almost as if the sexy attire and general ‘design’ of the lovely Christina requires an element of theatrical performance. Helen seems particularly interested in the way that her sissy slave quickly adapts to Ingrid’s instructions and a large, satisfied, yet ultimately mysterious smile crosses her face as the she-male strikes a series of sexy, provocative poses before the wildly clicking camera lens.

  The photography session lasts maybe thirty minutes and, at the end of it, Ingrid disappears into an adjacent dark room to develop the pictures she has taken of the lovely she-male. As Helen helps Christina down from the platform, she praises her obvious acting abilities.

  ‘That was very impressive, Christina.’

  Christina curtseys her gratitude.

  ‘Would you like to try acting?’

  This question confuses the she-male and her reply betrays her uncertainty.

  ‘I don’t know, mistress. If you wish me to, then of course.’

  ‘Well, I think there’s a very good chance I will want you to.’

  Christina curtseys her understanding and is then ordered to stand facing a far wall with her hands behind her back while Helen inspects the studio in more detail. Eventually, Ingrid returns from the dark room carrying a collection of photographs and Christina is called over to see the pictures.

  Both Helen and her sexy slave are more than impressed by the quality of the pictures, and for the first time Christina sees her true feminine persona revealed photographically. Unlike a reflection, a photograph always appears to provide a more profound insight into the truth of a physical image, and the sexy, teasing beauty that these pictures reveal fill Christina with a strange mixture of pride and desire. It is almost as if she fancies herself!

  ‘These are excellent, Ingrid,’ Helen exclaims, pulling one particularly sexy shot from the pile. ‘We’ll take this one with us. Bring the rest over next weekend.’

  After brief goodbyes, Helen and Christina leave the studio, stagger through the dark recesses of the shop and are soon back in the car and heading to Chris’s flat. And it is only as Helen helps her sexy slave into the back of the car that Christina remembers Donna.

  ‘Donna had some other shopping to do,’ Helen says, reading Christina’s sudden, sad look. ‘I’m sure you’ll be seeing her later.’

  By the time the car pulls up outside the apartment building, Christina is very nervous. While walking through the town was a surprisingly straightforward and very exciting undertaking, returning to the flat where she had lived so unhappily as Chris will be a real test. Surely someone will recognise her – surely she will be exposed!

  ‘Don’t worry, Christina,’ Helen says, turning from the driver’s seat to face her slave. ‘You look utterly convincing. No one will recognise you. Now go upstairs and send the picture to Annette, and hurry up. I want you back here in fifteen minutes, otherwise your little rendezvous with Donna will be cancelled and you’ll spend the night under the stairs.’

  Genuinely appalled by this threat, Christina quickly climbs out of the car and minces into the building. The sound of her heart pounding in terror accompanies her all the way up in the lift, down the second-floor corridor and into the flat. Once inside, she rushes to the computer and turns it on. She discovers two e-mails from Annette, both sadly asking why Christina has stopped talking to her. Christina immediately types out an extremely apologetic message explaining the bizarre adventures of the past few weeks. She also scans in the picture and attaches it to the e-mail as a JPEG file. The e-mail also contains an invitation to meet as soon as possible and the promise that Annette would not only meet Christina but also her three stunning mistresses. As she presses the send button a sense of utter elation washes over her. Now all her dreams are on the verge of coming true. Not only is she now the gorgeous, sexy she-male she has always dreamed of becoming, but she is under the stern and deeply erotic care of three beautiful, dominant and endlessly kinky women. And now, she will hopefully finally get to meet her only true friend through these last deeply frustrating months, the equally beautiful she-male, Annette.

  * * *

  By the time Helen and Christina get back to Helen’s lavish home, it is just after 6.00 p.m. Helen immediately takes her slave upstairs and helps her change back into her spectacular, ultra-sexy maid’s costume. They then return downstairs, and the lovely she-male spends the next hour or so helping her regal mistress prepare dinner for three. Christina is, without a doubt, now in a state of ecstasy. As she minces sexily before her mistress, her petticoats swaying before her to reveal her silk-pantied behind and long, perfectly shaped, silk-hosed legs, her false breasts bouncing so realistically in their tight silk and nylon prison, the corset forcing her into a helplessly upright posture that insists she totter perpetually on the high, high heels, as each tiny, mincing step forces the dildo de
eper into her sexy, eager arse, and as her long-imprisoned and angrily frustrated penis fights hopelessly against its sensual rubber prison, there is an almost transcendent sense of a new, much improved and much larger self. In this intricately feminised state, Chris has become not just Christina, not just a sexy she, but also a totally different being, almost as if the masculine and feminine within him/her have come together and produced a third gender.

  This profound, mind-altering pleasure is made even more intense by the domestic tasks that are the practical application of her servitude. As she helps prepare food, as she washes dishes and cooking pans and as she minces so daintily between the kitchen and the dining room, she feels a totally delicious sense of utter submission. It is as if each task has been sexualised, as if the world itself has become a fetishistic sexual entity designed to drive this lovely, sissy she-male mad with desire.

  Over the coming weeks, as each day of her maidservant enslavement passes, she will become obsessed with the intricacies of her duties, with ensuring that each task is performed with an exactitude that will both amuse and disturb her mistresses. And of course, one of her greatest pleasures, and also her greatest honour, will be the care of her mistresses’ clothing, a task that Helen will quickly notice arouses Christina terribly, and a task the dark-eyed mistress will subsequently insist the lovely she-male spend the majority of her time undertaking: washing, drying, ironing, storing, even mending every item of Helen’s clothing, from her panties and hose to her most expensive clothes and jewellery. And on top of this delight, there will be an even greater pleasure: the supreme honour of assisting her mistresses, mainly Helen, with dressing and make-up. To stand to rigid attention in her lovely uniform, a large towel at the ready as Helen steps from her steaming shower, to carefully dry and perfume her gorgeous, generous figure, then to help her dress and prepare her make-up. Then, perhaps the most erotic moment, to brush Helen’s beautiful, thick, gleaming brown hair. All these tasks will be performed as if the holiest of religious rituals.

  But now it is nearly 8.00 p.m., and the lovely sissy is putting the finishing touches to the dining table as the doorbell rings. Helen orders Christina to answer the door and she minces somewhat nervously from the room and down the hallway. Opening the door, she discovers Donna and Anne and performs the deepest curtsey she can manage. The women ignore their beautiful slave and walk past her into the house. Slightly hurt, especially by Donna’s indifference, Christina minces after her stunning mistresses.

  It is only as Christina enters the room behind the two women that she gets a reasonable view of Donna and her sissy heart sings with a terrible, sexual joy. For the lovely blonde has certainly dressed for the occasion. Her voluptuous form is sealed in a very tight black mini-dress made from latex rubber, a spectacular second skin that reveals every erotic contour of her perfect body. Indeed, the dress is so tight and figure-hugging that her long, stiff nipples are clearly defined by the rubber material. Christina’s eyes widen in excited amazement and travel down the dress to her long legs, which are wrapped in ultra-sheer, black nylon, and which lead down to feet erotically imprisoned in a pair of black, patent leather, stiletto-heeled mules. She is wearing her sparkling blonde hair lose tonight and it spills over her rubberised shoulders like a lake of pure gold. Around her slender neck is a choker necklace of black pearls. Her full lips are painted a very bloody red and a hint of pale-blue eye shadow perfectly complements her stunning eyes. Poor Christina cannot resist a moan of hungry desire as she turns these eyes on Christina and smiles teasingly.

  Anne is dressed in a very expensive black silk suit, a white, high-necked silk blouse and very high-heeled ankle boots, her own hair bound tightly in a very prim, strict bun. She is wearing little make-up. In her emerald eyes Christina sees a familiar cruel cunning laced with a darker sexual desire and a wave of paradoxically sexy dread washes over her perfectly sissified form.

  ‘You both look fantastic,’ Helen says, entering the room. ‘You may serve the wine now, Christina.’

  The lovely she-male performs another deep curtsey, making sure to display her sexy panties, and then wiggle-minces back into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a silver tray bearing three glasses of golden Chablis.

  The women spend the next half hour chatting and drinking, and Christina totters sweetly between them, serving more wine as required. The conversation covers all the bizarre events of the day, and the gorgeous she-male cannot help but listen intently between her serving duties.

  ‘Amanda was very impressed by Christina,’ Helen says, once the women are seated.

  ‘She told me,’ Anne responds, her eyes crawling over the lovely Christina like two poisonous snakes. ‘We had a long chat about what she’s going to do with her on Monday.’

  Christina’s heart misses a beat, yet she stands perfectly still before her mistresses, having learnt well the lessons of the last few weeks.

  ‘And do we get to know?’ Helen asks, a smile spreading across her beautiful face.

  ‘Not tonight. I want it to be a surprise for Chrissie.’

  The conversation then turns to Anne’s website project and Christina listens in horrified fascination as the redhead updates her comrades on progress. The ‘Baby Christina’ website is up and running and a huge success. There are thousands of ‘hits’ every day to what is at the moment a free site providing access to the numerous scanned photos of Christina taken during the previous week. Anne also reveals that she has written extensive text as Chrissie’s ‘webmistress’ detailing the humiliations the poor she-male has endured and the plans for her on-going feminisation.

  ‘I want the site to be a personal history of Christina,’ Anne says. ‘We’ll start with the baby pictures and then progress onto her role as our maid and general slave. Ingrid phoned me earlier this evening and she’s willing to do a whole series of photos of Christina for the site. She’s really enthusiastic. Once we get the full range completed, we’ll establish the pay site and post the pictures. She wants to cover every aspect: Chrissie as a maid, in other uniforms and fetish wear, Chrissie in bondage. She’s also really keen to get some interactive stuff – Chrissie with her mistresses, even Chrissie with a master. She’s even talking about streaming video.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Doing video scenarios involving Chrissie and putting them on the web. She’s convinced we can make a fortune.’

  Even Christina, now in some mental discomfort, can hear the devious and highly imaginative machinery of Helen’s brain ticking over.

  ‘Videos?’ she mumbles, taking a long sip of the wine. ‘That’s a very interesting idea.’

  Helen then announces that a special photo session should be arranged with Ingrid as quickly as possible, only to discover that Anne has already organised ‘an initial shoot’ for the coming week.

  The conversation continues over dinner, which Christina serves with a deeply worried sissy heart, but a keen and eager sissy body. For the most part the women ignore her, although Donna does pull the gorgeous she-male out of her pit of concern by secretly stroking her hosed thighs as she leans forwards to pour gravy over her roast beef, producing a sudden gasp of pleasure and a much-needed reminder of the treat that lies ahead.

  It is after 11.00 p.m. by the time the meal is completed and Christina is left to clear the dining table and do the washing up. And it is near midnight by the time she returns to the living room to find only Donna sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, sipping contemplatively from her wine glass.

  ‘You’ve really impressed everybody, Chrissie. I’m very proud of you,’ she says, rising from the sofa and walking towards her lovely slave.

  Christina curtseys her thanks and feels her heart pound with a terrible desire.

  ‘Yes, you’ve come a very long way in the last seven days. Helen is really happy with you. And Anne, well, she’s got so many special plans for you. You really are a very lucky little sissy.’

  Another curtsey and Donna’s smile widens.

&
nbsp; ‘And me? Well, you know how I feel about you, Chrissie. This is the way I want you for ever. Just looking at you makes me wet. And I’ve wanted you so badly every night for the past week. And I know you’ve wanted me. Well, as you’ve been such a good girl, tonight you can have me.’

  A moan of delight trickles from Christina’s painted lips as Donna then leans forwards and gently kisses her on the lips.

  ‘Let’s go up to your room,’ she whispers, and the poor she-male beauty nearly faints.

  Christina follows Donna up to the spare room in a deep sex-trance, her cock now stretching with a mad fury against its rubber captor and screaming for release. Her eyes eat up Donna’s sheer-nylon-sheathed legs and the perfect contours of her rubberised bottom as they climb the stairs. She has waited so hungrily, so desperately, for this moment, for Donna’s reward, her present for Christina’s patient and so painful days of restraint.

  By the time they enter the bedroom, Christina is openly moaning with a deep, boiling need. Donna turns to face her sissy slave, her smile gentle, reassuring. She steps forwards and slips a hand behind the she-male’s petticoats and strokes the front of her pretty, sexy silk panties.