by Audra Black
Lydia was no lesbian, but suddenly she realized why her husband may have been persuaded to return to his old lifestyle.
Following behind her was a naked man, with a horrifying looking torture device clasped over his penis. Lydia forced herself to look into his face and was relieved to see this was not her husband. She wasn’t quite ready to see him emasculating himself in such an extreme fashion.
“Who are you?” Lydia asked boldly. “And where is Gordon hiding? Is he too much of a coward to face me, is that it?”
“I am Mistress Lita,” the woman said. “I came here to train my new sub, Greg,” she pointed to the man cowering behind her, “and to allow my apprentice, Emmeline to practice her new skills on your husband.”
Lydia turned to look at the younger red-head, and then at the blond doll again.
“No,” she shook her head, as comprehension fought its way into her head. “That woman is not my husband. There’s no way to create breasts that realistic.”
Impatiently, Mistress Emmeline knelt down and yanked the blond maid’s underwear down to Gretchen’s ankles.
Lydia gasped, as a thick, fully erect penis popped out.
It was her husband. But how could this be?
She looked questioningly at Lita and Emmeline, not daring to look at her husband.
“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” Mistress Emmeline asked. “As a man he was so drab. He never truly fit the part that well. But now I feel his true self is finally shining through.”
“I can’t handle this,” Lydia screamed. “It’s too much. I want all of you out of my house, right now!”
“No,” Mistress Lita said simply. “We aren’t finished yet. And you don’t want us to leave here, anyway. You need me to help you transform, as well.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lydia asked, feeling angry, resentful, and in spite of herself, intrigued.
Mistress Lita moved closer to her until they were close enough to touch. Lita placed her hand over Lydia’s heart and said, “you are not a submissive woman. You are a tigress, a wildebeest, a woman who longs to be in control. And your husband needs that desperately. For far too long, you have made unrealistic demands on him. Expected him to make decisions, to lead your home. But deep down, you know he isn't capable.”
Mistress Lita’s words felt like the gospel to Lydia’s soul. She had known all of this for a long time, but it wasn’t right. That wasn’t the way God intended for male-female relationships to work. As a woman, she was not allowed to be in control.
“You are allowed to control your husband, Lydia. I give you permission.” Lita said. “Contrary to all you’ve been taught. Female led relationships are the way life is truly meant to be lived. Isn’t that right, slut toy?” Mistress Lita asked of her naked male subordinate, who followed meekly behind her, wherever she went.
“Yes, Mistress.” He said meekly.
“He does whatever I tell him and he likes it, Don’t you, slut toy?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said.
“I don’t know if I could do that,” Lydia said awkwardly.
“Of course you can,” Lita grabbed hold of Lydia’s hand and led her over to her husband, the doll. “This is Gretchen. He needs you to take care of him. To tell him what to do and what to think, and whether he should remain a woman or return to being a cuckolded man.”
“I never cheated on him!” Lydia said indignantly.
In response Mistress Lita, wrapped Lydia’s hand around Gretchen’s stiff, hard cock.
Lydia shuddered a little. Gordon’s cock had never grown that hard before. She looked up into his pretty blue eyes.
“Do you like being a woman, Gretchen? Is that what you want to be called? Do you want me to wear the pants and treat you how the Bible commands the man to treat the woman?”
“If that’s what you want,” Gretchen said softly.
Lydia reached up with her other hand to cup Gretchen’s boobs. They were so firm and supple and bouncy. Perfectly proportioned and so beautiful she felt herself grow wet. She had never touched another women’s tits before.
Who knew it could feel so delicious?
“I like these boobs,” Lydia decided. “Can I get rid of them when he leaves the house though? I think I could learn to live with Gretchen at home, but outside, he should be Gordon. We’ve worked too hard for his political career to end it over a peculiar fetish.”
Gretchen was relieved. He was enjoying being beautiful, but Lydia was right. He had worked immensely hard to become a senator, and he didn’t want to lose that part of himself. Besides, he’d decided he was most likely a cross dresser and not truly transgender. Before today, he’d never admitted this about himself. But hidden deep down, there had always been an attraction.
Gretchen was shocked at how well Lydia was taking everything, though he wondered what things would be like once Mistress Lita and Emmeline left. Mistress Lita was likely a calming force. She had such a command presence that allowed no arguments or dissent. But once she was gone, Lydia would have no one to restrain her. Would she allow her inner dominatrix to come out? Did Gretchen want her to?
“Lydia,” Mistress Lita said, “You need to take charge of your sissy. I can’t go until I’m certain you’ll be all right on your own.”
“I don’t know what to do to him,” Lydia said.
“He cheated on you, what do you want to do to him?”
Gretchen was startled and he felt strangely betrayed. Mistress Lita was turning on him. Why? What had he done to deserve that?
“I want to cut off his cock,”Lydia declared, recalling the years of rage which she had pushed back and suppressed. She had loved him, and he had broken their marriage vows, over and over again. And he had never been sorry. Not really. He’d been sorry he got caught... Well, that was in the past now. She would make him sorry!
“I’ve got a knife,” Mistress Emmeline said eagerly, while Gretchen wailed, “Nooo, please, no!”
“Why don’t we start with symbolic castration,” Mistress Lita suggested. “That will prevent him from cheating on you ever again, and will cause him great pain whenever you take pleasure from him.”
Lydia shrugged, “whatever.” She looked at the wicked chastity cage currently locked around Greg’s dick. “Can I borrow this one?”
“No dear, slut toy needs his cage. However, if you look in the closet behind you, you may find exactly what it is you are looking for.”
Lydia turned around and opened the heavy wooden door. Her black eyes widened in wonder when she saw what had been placed inside. She saw a bright red, leather dominatrix outfit, in her size, and a long whip with cat tails and tiny bits of glass woven into the tails. She imagined herself wearing that skin tight cherry red suit, flogging her husband's back while he cried out in pain and she laughed in glee. Punishment. It’s what he needed. It was what she needed, too.
And on the shelf, resting between a yellow umbrella and a fat black baton, was a chastity device. It came with a clear, see-through container for Gretchen’s cock, the sides of the container were lined with sharp looking nail-like teeth. Lydia grinned with delight as she imagined Gretchen’s cock growing hard and all of those sharp teeth digging into his sensitive skin.
The device also came with a long, ball holder, connected to the back. A pair of chain-like straps existed to be tied around the penis-owner’s waist. And a shiny golden padlock, with a shiny golden key completed the contraption. Feeling a rush of inspiration, Lydia grabbed the nasty cock container, and approached her husband.
“You will never hurt me again,” she told him.
Gretchen didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t feeling like a lovely lady anymore, and his once hard cock had gone as flat and limp as his ego. He was also feeling mighty confused. How could he have hurt Lydia, when she’d never cared about him?
Before he had a chance to puzzle this out, Lydia had grasped his cock again and was squeezing it into the hard, cold penile prison. Then she squeezed his balls, making him
gasp and tremble.
Lydia smiled in satisfaction at his pain, and then she symbolically castrated him with just one quick turn of the key. The key came with a handy lanyard, allowing Lydia to wear it around her neck, as a constant reminder of who exactly was in charge now.
“Excellent start, Lydia,” Mistress Lita said. “Now, have him undress and change you. It’s imperative for the both of you, that you experience this demonstration of the old Lydia becoming Mistress Lydia. You are in charge now, and you both need to know it, inside and out.”
Lydia had always undressed herself. During the rare times they had sex, she would change behind the locked door of the bathroom, then meet Gordon in bed. He had always seemed bored, and she, too, felt very little, after the first unenthusiastic time or two.
For years, she’d thought this was just how sex was supposed to be. She hadn’t understood her husband's need to go outside the home to satisfy himself. But today, after getting a mere taste of the dominatrix lifestyle, she was starting to feel the thrill. Perhaps now sex could become much more enjoyable.
But even if she was willing to allow Gretchen to undress her, she sure as hell wasn’t going to undress in front of Lita, Emmeline, and Slut Toy.
“Gretchen,” Lydia ordered, “fetch my new outfit and whip and take them upstairs to our bedroom, where we will finish this ceremony in private.”
Then she glared at Mistress Lita, daring her to object. But Lita appeared to be amused, and Gretchen was simply standing there, looking confused. Like he couldn’t decide whom to obey. This enraged and infuriated Lydia. She grabbed a candle and a match from the closet and lit the match, which she held to the candle wick until it caught.
She approached Gretchen with that candle, shaking in anger and rage. “I am your wife,” she hissed. “You have no other mistress beside me. And you will obey me and no one else. Do you understand?”
Before Gretchen had time to affirm his understanding, Lydia had taken the candle and was holding it down, down into the sensitive indentation between his voluptuous breasts. She held it down so close that melted wax and tiny drops of flame dropped off and began to sear his chest.
Gretchen screamed and howled in pain, dropping to his knees and crying out, “Yessss, yes, Mistress Lydia. I understand. I’m sorry.”
Lydia smiled and blew out the candle. That was better. Who knew all it took was a little bit of fire and theatrics and she could have him prostrating himself at her feet. She should have tried this years ago!
Not quite done with him yet, Lydia took hold of his chin and pulled his head up, his eyes were glazed and full of fear. She could see white hot welts rising between his boobs which heaved up and down with the strain.
Goddess, they were gorgeous knockers. Every man, she decided should own a pair. Boobs were so much less likely to get a man in trouble, unlike his dick, and they were really fun to look at and probably play with, too. Lydia had her own boobs, but hers were small and barely there. She could easily get away without wearing a bra and they didn’t bounce.
Mistress Emmeline started clapping and cheering, so moved was she by Lydia’s display of dominance, Greg looked terrified and was doing his best to hide behind Mistress Lita. And even the headmistress herself was smiling and nodding with respect for what Lydia had done.
“You surprised me, today, and that’s hard to do. I knew you had an inner Domme hiding in there, someplace, but I had no idea she could be drawn out so quickly and easily. I now feel comfortable leaving you alone with him. I know you will continue finding your way and Gretchen will be the happiest sissy in sissyville.”
Lydia couldn’t help basking in the praise. Plus, she’d wanted them to leave ever since she’d come home. What was that, days ago? She looked at her watch, she’d been home less than an hour. How could her life have so thoroughly changed in such a short amount of time?
“Wait, before you, how do I get rid of Gretchen’s boobs when I wish him to be Gordon again?”
Emmeline giggled and quickly walked over to Lydia and whispered the magical incantation in her ear. “Thanks luv,” she said, giving her a quick goodbye hug. It didn’t take long for Greg and Emmeline to gather up all their toys, and for Greg to dress himself. Once those things were accomplished, he was trussed up again and stuffed in the trunk, for the ride back to Club Pain.
Greg was glad to be leaving, that Lydia bitch was scary, but then again, Mistress Lita could be plenty scary, herself. What did her plans for him entail? What was going to happen to him once they left here? Would he have a job and an apartment to attend to, or would he end up a permanent slave on some out-of-the-way plantation.
Greg had heard rumors of places like this, where innocent men were kidnapped and made to work as slave labor.
He hadn’t believed those stories were real until he’d met Mistress Lita. He honestly wouldn’t mind being her slave for life, but if he had to serve a woman like Lydia he didn’t think he could handle it.
Sadly, Greg realized he had given up control of his life the moment he’d first walked through the doors of Club Pain. He was now Mistress Lita’s possession, and all he could do was trust she knew what was best for him.
Gretchen was scared, too. Lydia had gone stark raving bonkers with that candle. The pain of the fire still burned his breastbone, as the intense white welts blistered and weeped all over his chest. Due to the torture his scorned wife had inflicted on him. Although, he was now terrified of her, he was also majorly turned on, which turned out to be a very bad thing as unbelievable waves of agony tore through his groin and up his backside.
Always a masochist at heart, this extreme pain only served to turn him on more, causing him even more pain. He was already on the floor, and he was sweating and groaning and twitching as if Lydia had applied a taser to his spine.
As Lydia stood over him, arms crossed, with a smirk upon her elegant face, Gretchen began to see his wife anew. She was radiantly beautiful, he found to his surprise. How had he never noticed that before? And she was strong, so strong. Lydia was twice the women and three times the man that Gretchen would ever be. And he felt ashamed, and weak and unworthy, to be married to a woman such as her.
“I wonder if the burns will magically go away if I remove your boobs?” Lydia said, kneeling down to look critically at the damage she had caused. “Would you like me to try, slave husband?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he managed to choke out. If he only had to bear half the agony, he would be of much more use to her. And he did, truly, wish to be of service. It was the least he could do for all the years he had cheated on her with less worthy dommes.
“Very well then. I think I’d like Gordon back, anyway.” Then Lydia recited the magic words whispered to her by Emmeline, and just like that, the boobs were gone. Gordon and his manly, wound free chest had returned.
Lydia ran her hands experimentally up and down Gordon’s chest, her long red fingernails, snagging on a few of his long chest hairs. Impatiently, she yanked, and her finger came free along with his hairs. Gordon gritted his teeth and did not cry out. He was so thankful that the pain from the fire was gone, and even his cock had calmed down and was not causing him any trouble. He didn’t want to ruin the momentary calm for something as trivial as a pulled out hair.
“Now, slave husband. I think Mistress Lita had a good idea. So go and get my new dominatrix outfit from the closet. Bring the whip, as well. I want to play with it on your back.”
Gordon got up and made his way to the hall closet. He grabbed the red, leather skin suit off its hanger, and with a gulp, he also grabbed the wicked, glass-shard whip. His skin tingled in anxious anticipation while his stomach churned in misery. Gordon loved pain and he hated it. He craved and feared it. It occurred to him, now that he didn’t need to go out to find what he needed, that this opened up so many new possibilities of things he’d been unable to pay someone to do to him.
“I’m waiting, slut,” Lydia called out, trying out a new term of endearment.
“Comin
g, Mistress,” Gordon said apologetically, as he hurried awkwardly to his wife. His hands were full and he wasn’t sure where to set the whip and outfit down. “Where would you like these, Mistress?”
“I want the outfit on me and the whip on your back,” Lydia said, “but for now, let’s go into the living room and you can lay them on the sofa.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Gordon said, obediently following her into their large and spacious living room. He had failed to notice before, but there was a large iron cross hidden away in a far corner of the room, stuck in a place where no one from outside would be able to see, if they were to look through the large bay windows.
“How convenient,” Lydia smirked when she saw it. “Now take off that ridiculous maid’s outfit and that blond wig. I don’t hit women.” Then she laughed, a loud and melodious sound to Gordon’s burning ears.
Quickly, and gratefully, he threw off the maid’s outfit and took off the wig.
“Come here,” Lydia instructed.
Gordon approached her cautiously, unsure what she was going to do. She took a tissue out of her pocket, wet it with her tongue and began washing the streaking makeup off his face. “Next time we play dress up, we’ll have to get you some waterproof mascara,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said. Unsure if he wanted there to be a next time. The morning’s stress had confused him and his feelings about the transformation. Although, he found he actually missed his boobs, a little bit. He could almost feel them there still, but when he moved his hands to stroke them, they were gone.
“You’ll get your boobs back, if you please me,” Lydia said as she watched his unconscious movements.
Gordon was afraid to ask, but he couldn’t hold the question back. “What about the cage, Mistress? If I please you, will you take that off, as well?” He held his breath as he awaited her answer.
“I’ll think about it,” she replied archly. “I may have misspoken before. I don’t want you pleasing me to get rewards. I want you to please me because I deserve it. And if you don’t, I will punish you, severely.”
