Maid to Measure

by Sarah Forth

  B has told me everything. After I had told him everything he wanted to know, he wanted me punished and perfectly safe, totally unable to harm him in the future. The punishment was to make me as different from myself as possible. He had been particularly taken by the impact of their treatment on me and felt that he would gain the greatest and most persistent satisfaction from making me into what I had so hated being made to pretend to be. And he has in fact ‘sold’ me to the Arab who got such perverse pleasure from hurting me each morning. Somehow he has also guessed how much I loathe and despise homosexuality and all its practitioners. So he will get extra perverse pleasure from the knowledge that for the rest of my life I shall have to submit myself to a man, will never again be able to make love with a woman.

  In every possible respect, apart from the legal ones, he has transformed me into a woman. I have an altered face, sculpted to the specification of the Arab who has paid for me, and a completely feminised body, exactly the shape required by my new owner. My breasts are as real as any woman’s, but still fresh and new, like those of a girl of twenty; and the surgery to my lower body has resulted in what B calls ‘child bearing hips’, a phrase with terrifying undertones, together with an organ which has been fashioned to exactly fit my new master’s tool. The plug which he so enjoyed moving inside me to prevent me from ‘healing over’ was modelled on his own erect weapon so in a sense he has already ‘raped’ me many times, albeit by hand. And before long I shall be delivered up to him, suitably gift wrapped, to become a receptacle into which he will be able to ejaculate. If I feared the prospect of being attacked by Pedro, I have even greater cause for fear now. B has set out the various alternatives. If I co-operate fully, perform exactly as the Emir demands, subjugate myself as his personal possession, I can be his travelling companion. I shall never really be his wife, that could only happen with a real woman, a woman who can bear his sons, but I can aspire to the status of ‘mistress’ or ‘concubine’, although I shall have to pay a heavy price for that position. For the penalty or, he would say privilege, of granting him the use of my body whenever and however he wants it, I shall be free to travel with him, given access to anything which his wealth and power can provide, and allowed the freedom to enjoy the luxuries associated with such wealth. To earn this life, I must perfect the performance and behave in public like a privileged and beautiful woman. In private I shall be his property, a sex slave, submitting to whatever he requires of me, giving him pleasure in whatever way he demands. If I don’t co-operate fully, that situation will not be available to me. At best, I shall be consigned to his harem, kept locked in with his other concubines but still available to be used whenever he is chooses in whatever way he wants but with none of the other privileges. To reinforce my willingness to co-operate, I have been told about the uses he makes of his discards. If one of his women fails to please him or offends him, as her absolute master he decides her fate. He has a range of options available to him and her treatment is more and more degrading as her offence is judged more and more severely. If he just tires of her, he allows her to be used by his guests, whether she is willing or not. If he loses interest in her completely she may be given away as a gift. If she is still attractive at that point, she might be given to a new owner whose affluence or position might offer some small advantage to the woman herself. Or, if her offence leads him to believe that she may disgrace him by proving unworthy of being given to one of his powerful friends, she may be given to someone less salubrious, one of his servants, a local peasant or even put to work in some brothel. And if his displeasure is greater she could become one of the degraded women who have to submit to being raped or beaten in public with total degradation for the most offending women of all. I cannot really believe, I dare not let myself contemplate what he describes as the ultimate degradation. It was only a blurred photograph but it is enough to fill any woman in his power with terror. It was of a bound woman and a large dog. B says that is the start of their final descent into hell - dogs are not the only animals he owns. It is impossible to believe that anyone could be that depraved and the photograph gave only a hint, but it was a terrifying image, an appalling fate. So somehow I know that I must face a life completely altered from any previous expectation. Until I got enmeshed with HIS affairs, I had enjoyed all the advantages of masculinity; status, strength, the ability to seduce, enjoy or otherwise take advantage of women. Now, I am forced to accept that I am, to all intents and purposes, a woman myself; must accept all that that sex and gender state requires.

  B - Final preparations

  Before the Emir took delivery, we still had a lot of work to do on her. But I enjoyed supervising it, even when I could only observe the effects through the regular videos they sent me. To start with she had to learn to walk again, a difficult task with those widened hips. And some of the flabby fat which the hormones had made of his former muscle, had to be worked off and reshaped. She also had to learn a whole new range of skills. Some of them would have earned her a good living in another walk of life - one which in a sense we were preparing her for. But she had to believe that her future comfort and existence depended on it. So I described the sort of life she could aspire to if she turned out to be exactly what the Emir required, the life he had designed for her and bought and built her for. I also indicated the alternatives, describing in some detail all that the Emir could choose to do, and as far as I knew had actually done, with the women he controlled who failed to satisfy him. But I needed to make sure that there was an ultimate sanction, a state of existence so revolting that she would not be able to contemplate it - that is why I had that extra photograph created of the woman and the dog. I don’t actually think the Emir is that depraved but you never know. And it seems to have done the trick - she has been far more co-operative than I would have expected. Now and again I have made sure that they have pushed her further and faster than she is ready to go - just to reinforce her acceptance of her changed state, to force her to recognise how completely I have won.

  We started with the simple things. She has been obliged to learn how to do a complete strip tease, from start to finish. For her routine, she has to start from a completely ordinary but smart business suit. She was taught how to unbutton the jacket, slowly and temptingly of course, and slip it off her shoulders. Then to loosen the blouse and untuck it from the skirt. Her skirt technique was designed by Sandra herself, - although she doesn’t know who the performer is - a slow unzipping and then a reversion to playing with the blouse until the skirt begins to slide down her hips. She catches it just as it is about to fall to the floor and then gently eases it down her legs, holding the waist band to her legs all the way down. She doesn’t release it until it is below the waist slip and then she steps out of it and carefully hangs it up. Her blouse is then slipped off each shoulder in turn before she turns to her pretended audience to give them the full frontal removal. Those schoolboys who watched her last year would go wild if they could see what she has now; really smooth, pale skin contrasting with her black lacy, slightly undersized basque which struggles to contain such beautiful prizes, just fighting to bulge right over the top. She takes about twenty minutes to get down to her knickers, teasing all the time. It’s really a very professional performance now that she has realised that she must get it right or face the consequences. Anyway, we got her to practice and practice in front of a full length mirror as she went through the whole performance - right down to the last bit when she stands with her legs apart, bending forward over the back of a chair and turns round to wink at the pretend audience behind her. And for the video, just as she turned round to wink, we switched on the lights behind the mirrors to show her the paying clients who were her appreciative audience! I’ll swear that he would never have guessed that he could blush so completely - she was an absolute picture as she recognised that the men had seen her right from the start, grabbing for something to cover herself as she tried to get out of the room. I have kept the edited video of her whole p
erformance, three camera angles, just for my own private use. When I watch it, I can get as horny as when I watch a natural born woman giving that sort of performance. I can almost regret having passed her over to the Emir without properly using her myself. I suppose that would have been the ultimate victory. But knowing what she was and why she is as she is, that I have been responsible for building her - that is so satisfying.

  I have seen most of her training. I made sure that it was rigorous - and recorded, although I haven’t told the Emir that. And although I didn’t use that specially created tunnel, I did allow myself a couple of really exciting sessions with her. I had the girls give her a complete course in seduction from the strip right up to the preparation for final submission. The girls didn’t speak any English so they couldn’t understand any of her objections or expressions of horror, though the looks on her face must have given them a pretty good idea. So although they taught her through actions, the recordings gave me the extra pleasure of hearing her rehearse the objections and her personal argument with herself as she faced the fact that she either learned to please the Emir or got some other treatment, which might include the unspeakable.

  Apart from the strip tease performances and the other provocative displays she has been made to learn, she has been well trained in providing complete sexual gratification to a man. Because she has experienced the sensations herself, she seemed to find it easy to learn how to give a good hand job. Her hands are now smaller and more delicate than before but she soon learned how to control them and how to lubricate them properly so that they had the right feel. To begin with, she had to act as maid to the working girls where she was trained, getting the chance to watch each of them at work, especially when they were giving hand and mouth jobs When she had had the chance to see the whole range of possible techniques, her own training started. They spent a lot of time with a dildo teaching her how to get man off with her hands before she was ready to move on to working with her mouth. They trained her to lick it before gradually taking it further and further down her throat until she could do it without gagging. Then how to move her head backwards and forwards as if the man kept still. She found it harder to cope with holding herself still while the diddlo was diddled in and out. Before they finished, they switched back to the special dildo they used while she was working by hand, the one that felt fleshy and warm and which rewarded her with a tasty gush if she did it right. When they thought she was ready, they made her do it blindfolded and then without the use of her hands until she was perfect. Then twice, I substituted myself for that dildo while she was blindfolded. She was wonderful. I’ve never had a better blow job and it was made even more wonderful by knowing who was doing it. She even swallowed my jism. But I did take the risk of spoiling it because I just couldn’t resist taking off her blindfold just as she had swallowed the second time. I watched her vomit as she realised what I had made her do but I look back on the experience with the greatest pleasure. It was the expression on her face just after she had vomited that I loved - as she wondered how many times she had already done this for me. Who else in the world can have enjoyed such a triumph over such a potential disaster? And to know that he remembered enough to hate me still, to know that she would remember and continue to hate what I had done for the rest of her life, helpless to do anything but hate! I love it.

  I reckon the Emir has a real gem. She has never been used, apart from a couple of mouth fucks. And she is really well trained and docile. Where else would he have got a perfect little fucker, a guaranteed virgin, with a cunt built to his own precise specifications? And in a body attached to a mind which knows perfectly well how good it is to fuck a woman, knows just what will give the greatest pleasure, not just by being taught but because she has had it herself? Best of all he knows that until he got her, she would have fought tooth and nail for her ‘honour’, whatever that meant. I still remember the struggle ‘she’ put up against Pedro! And I know that whatever he felt before, however much he despised men who submitted themselves to other men, she will be doing so for the rest of her life.

  A - Subjugation

  B continues to haunt me, to make me realise that I am just his toy, his creation. Even now that he has pitched me to the lowest form of degradation imaginable. Every time I think that I have learned to cope, have found some way to survive the humiliations he has prepared for me, he finds another that I cannot cope with. And his motive is pure evil, vengeance for something which I was never able to do. Like the time he made me perform a strip tease for a group of the most awful voyeurs I could imagine. I don’t know where he found them or how much they paid. Now, of course, I don’t even know how many performances he managed to get from me. I only know that after the first few weeks of refusing to co-operate, until I was convinced that being raped by the Emir was not the worst thing that might happen, I did try to learn the technique of pleasing the Emir in the way that those women showed me. So I learned how to take my clothes off slowly and temptingly. It wasn’t really difficult to imagine what a man would enjoy; after all, I still am a man inside. So I got quite good at it especially when I finally admitted that I had to go the whole way and let him see everything - after all, he must have seen everything while he was moving that monster inside me while I was being made. In the end, I pretended that I was doing the whole thing for myself, presenting my own body for my own pleasure to the mirrors they set up for me to practice. So I practised the whole routine, to the point where I step out of the knickers and pose, bending over the back of a chair with my bottom out provocatively, standing with my legs wide open and sort of inviting him to come into me from behind. And once, just as I finished and looked behind me to see the effect in the mirrors, something happened so that I could see right through the mirror and all those men watching me. My reflection was still there but they were clearly visible. And perhaps they have been there every time. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I wanted to get out to cover myself up, to hide, just as I had wanted to hide from the boys at the school - and from myself after I had given in to HIM.

  While I was forcing myself to learn my routine, in the hours between each practice session, I would have to serve as an assistant whore. They didn’t actually make me submit to a man - even I guessed that the Emir would not allow that until he had tried me himself - but I had to escort the client to the girl’s room and watch as she gave him what he wanted. They made a point at first of showing me how to satisfy a man without actually allowing penetration; hand and mouth relief. While I was acting as the maid, I would be dressed in a wide range of different costumes. Some were revealing and degrading, others obviously had some appeal for the clients. So I often had to wear a complete maid’s uniform; black satin dress with a white apron and a little white cap. The dress of course was very short and I had to wear lots of frothy underwear, slips and knickers in white which must have showed every time I moved. Another of the customers’ favourites was my short navy blue gym slip with navy blue knickers, white blouse and white socks. They even glued a large lollipop to my left hand so that I couldn’t put it down until I had sucked it down to the stick. But whatever flavour it had, its shape was always the same - and erect phallus.

  I had to watch the girls as they demonstrated the various techniques they had developed for their trade. When it came to using their hands it was clear that the most important part was to make sure that the hands were properly lubricated. Some of the men preferred creams, others gentle soaps. And the girls seemed to prefer this form of servicing - they indicated that they felt completely in charge while they had the man’s penis in their hands. There was a time limit for each customer, a time which it was my duty to keep track of and the girls made it a point of principle not to allow the man to ejaculate until his time was up. As for the ‘blow jobs’, I was amazed to discover so many different styles they used. Each one had her own speciality and the client would usually specify which girl he wanted, knowing which technique she would use. They included
the full range from the only just inside the lips position to fully swallowed, head moving and still, with and without hands, with other contact or concentrating on just the penis. There was even one girl whose speciality was the boob tube - squeezing her client’s prick between her breasts, made slippery with some of his come and a little cream and then letting him spurt up towards her throat, encouraging him to see if he could reach her face. It was disgusting to think that I would have to contemplate submission to any such demands. I wondered just what sort of pervert the Emir was. Pervert he certainly as or he wouldn’t want me.

  And all the time B took advantage of me, reminding me whenever I saw him just how completely he had defeated me. I know that he has tricked me at least once into sucking his prick to bring him off. I thought at the time that I was working with a dildo but somehow, while I was showing that I could do it blindfolded, without using my hands at all, he must have slipped it into my face. I had been practising with a special dildo, one that felt warm and would give me a squirt of salted cream when I did it right so I swallowed his muck when I finished, just as I had been taught. When I realised what I had done, it made me puke up all over the floor - and they made me clean it up! But how many times has he done it without my knowledge? I know that I had been made to practice not using my hands twenty or thirty times before, most of them wearing the blindfold.

  Still somehow I have to face the next test. Sometime soon I shall have to pay another penalty for being as I now am. If I can make myself do it properly, give him exactly what he wants, then there is the hope that I shall get some small relief from the constant humiliation I suffer at the moment. The Emir has promised to let me travel with him in return for the favours he will demand of me. I shall be relatively free to live an almost normal life - at least a life that might be normal for a woman. But I don’t really know what he will expect of me, how often I shall have to submit to being used as his whore. But I believe now that pleasing him might be worth the price compared with the penalties which he will impose if I should fail. I hate the thought of being locked permanently away in a seraglio, only having the company of women who cannot understand that I am not one of them. And to be abused in the other ways! I cannot even let myself think of the prospect of being shared with any Tom, Dick, Ahmed or Harry who happens to be visiting and the alternatives after that are dreadful. But he seems to be sufficiently powerful to make it happen.