Silken Servitude

by Christina Shelly

  We are forced tightly together. Our large carefully moulded breasts are pressed together and my sex is forced up against the hot rubber-sealed space between her long sexy legs. She cries into her gag with a furious pleasure – a dream, made reality, a fantasy exploding through the fragile surface of the illusion of the real.

  Our faces are only a few inches apart – the saliva-coated edge of the fat white rubber ball gag touches the tape sealing her soft full lips. Our eyes fill with visions of the other. Mistress Anne then begins to bind us together: pulling a length of tape from the thick roll but not tearing it free, she pastes the length against our slender feminine ankles and begins to wind it slowly, carefully and expertly up our hot tormented sexually enraged forms, a looping motion of utter enveloping – a joint and highly erotic mummification.

  While Mistress Anne consumes us in soft sado-erotic tape, Mistress Celine prepares two black stockings, taking them from a drawer built into the wall by the closet. She pulls them taut and slowly runs them, one at a time, between her legs, so that they slip between the slender gap between the basque and her left thigh. A look of brief but very real arousal fills her emerald eyes. She then spreads the first stocking into a wide bowl and begins to lower it over Myriam’s head.

  The French beauty’s attention is dragged from contemplation of my buxom sissy form and her eyes fill with fear. Mistress Celine smiles.

  ‘You really are the perfect damsel in distress, Myriam,’ she whispers, pulling the stocking tightly down over the sexy slave’s lovely face as she squeals fearfully into her highly efficient gag.

  Myriam’s struggles are lessened by the fact that Mistress Anne’s erotic mummification has now reached our waists and we are subsequently held very fast. As she wiggles and squeals she rubs helplessly against me, causing great arousal. Soon I am moaning with the pleasure of her inadvertent caress. And as the stocking is pulled tightly into place, as I find myself facing a new nylon-distorted Myriam, Myriam as a fetish doll girl toy, Mistress Celine begins to pull the second stocking over my head, just as Mistress Anne’s fiendish mummification reaches just below our substantial breasts.

  As I am plunged into a world of hazy sensual black nylon, the scent of Mistress Celine’s cunt fills my nostrils. I whimper with a helpless sissy pleasure and feel myself pulled closer to the gorgeous rubberised figure of Myriam. As the tape progresses up over our chests and towards our necks, my sex is pushed even harder into the delicate space between her legs. She squeals with a dreadful frustration and I beg for release into my own inescapably cruel ball gag. And it is as the tape reaches our shoulders that a panting highly aroused Mistress Anne finally ceases her intricate and ultra-kinky mummification.

  Then, to our mutual horror, but surely not to our surprise, we are picked up by the two beautiful wicked dominants and placed inside the closet space, a space that only just accommodates our tightly sealed forms.

  ‘Someone will come and dig you up … eventually,’ Mistress Celine teases, as we squeal with fear and a dark dreadful sexual excitement.

  The door to the closet is closed and we are plunged into an absolute darkness. Almost immediately, I can feel Myriam’s heart racing furiously, driven by desire and terror. I try and comfort her, moaning softly into my gag. She quietens slightly and then moans back. I try to wiggle my body slightly so that my nipples flick against hers and my cock teases the taped edge of her own stuffed sex. And it is as I do this, and she moans her own desperate appreciation, that the vibrators begin to buzz once again, in my expertly stretched arse and in her sex and her own highly trained anus. And now our moans of fear turn into well-gagged cries of sudden and terrible pleasure. And soon we are both wiggling helplessly, a wiggling that becomes a deeply erotic ballet, that becomes a confession of powerful shared attraction.

  Is this the nearest I will ever get to a woman? This evil teasing is yet another black expression of domination, an absolute demonstration of the control that is wielded over the two of us by our mistresses, by all the mistresses and masters of the Bigger Picture. Yet it is a control we desire without question, a control that is assured by our need for its brutal yet sensual embrace.

  And as we struggle so intimately in total darkness, our gagged breathing and moans of pleasure the final communication of a growing feeling that moves beyond mere sexual attraction, we can also hear the women complete their terrible tormenting of poor lovely Annette. The sound of the crop, her gagged pleas for a mercy that will never come and is in fact not wanted, a further play rape, a descent into a cruel but mutually assured ecstasy – all provide the soundtrack to a profound communication between this gorgeous innocent French beauty and my helplessly sissified and deeply masochistic self, the discovery of something that is moving closer and closer towards a strange irresistible love.

  7

  An Evening with Mistress Eleanor

  WE ARE LEFT tethered so tightly and sweetly together for maybe an hour, maybe longer. By the time we are extracted from the closet by Kathy and Christina, time has lost its meaning. The intimacy we have found in each other’s sexy bodies in the red hot torment of a most intense and relentless restriction has left us both stunned and madly aroused. As the maids free us from this latest bondage ordeal, we moan with a deep, deep pleasure, actually begging to be left sealed tightly in the erotic darkness of the closet.

  But then we are freed and I face Myriam through a film of boiling sex sweat and behold her form in desiring astonishment.

  I stare at her perfect breasts with awe-filled sex-hungry eyes. She smiles slightly, happy to be before me, proud of her gorgeous ample form.

  ‘You are to be cleaned and delivered to Mistress Eleanor,’ Christina says to me, her voice filled with amusement and arousal.

  I am hardly interested in her words, my attention kidnapped by Myriam’s large perfectly formed breasts. Her long hard nipples beg to be teased by soft ruby-red lips. My desire to place soft sissy kisses upon them is almost overwhelming.

  ‘You are to be sent to Mistress Helen for the evening,’ Christina continues, addressing Myriam.

  Suddenly Myriam’s attention is diverted. Her eyes fill with a new sexual anticipation, a dark masochistic pleasure. I feel a pang of jealousy as I see that the prospect of spending the evening with the buxom fiendishly perverse Mistress Helen fills my gorgeous French angel with a dark pleasure.

  Kathy then leads Myriam from the room. My eyes fix onto her broad hips and surprisingly large – but still perfectly proportioned – backside, its teasing wiggling a subtle goodbye.

  Through all of this, both of us have remained gagged. I also remain collared and leashed, my arms tied tightly behind my back. Christina, dressed in her classically beautiful and wildly sexy Senior Housemaid’s costume, takes up the leash and leads me from the room. I follow her down the corridor back to my room, just as I had followed Annette to the studio, my eyes pinned with helpless need to her long perfectly shaped black nylon-sheathed legs.

  The bizarre adventure with the gorgeous Myriam has inspired new levels of powerful sexual stimulation, and the sense of frustration is now quite unbearable. I need relief from this boiling desire like a heroin addict craves a final fix. Desire is the weapon of choice for the Bigger Picture and, as it tortures my mind and body, I know it is the most powerful of all weapons. With it, this society of utterly unyielding and fiercely determined women will surely sweep all men aside; with it, the Femocracy will become a terrible wonderful reality.

  Yet my desire – the desire for the lovely soft doe-eyed Myriam – is a strangely double-edged sword. For within the totalitarian framework of the Bigger Picture, it is illegal desire, a clear flawless heterosexual desire that seeks neither domination nor submission. It is a desire that I am familiar with and which my training has sought to destroy totally. It is my desire for my Aunt and, perhaps more importantly, my desire for the startling regal Justine. I am astonished and excited by it; I am also deeply concerned. After so many weeks of careful indoctrination in the sexual
politics of the Bigger Picture, it seems that I am, despite the terrible fundamental pleasure I get from my feminised submission and my intricate sissy transformation, still a desiring male.

  Eventually, I am returned to the room once shared with Pansy. As I look at the neatly made bed, I remember our eager exploratory love-making with a slight sadness. Now, more than ever, Pansy is surrendering to the desire programme demanded by the Bigger Picture. Her masochism is informed by a surprisingly powerful homosexuality, and she has willingly become Taylor’s sexy little she toy.

  I am undressed and Christina allows herself five cruel minutes teasing my rock-hard rubber- and steel-imprisoned cock, making sure not to remove the mouth-filling and now very uncomfortable gag.

  She wallows in my sissy squeals of angry need, her eyes burning into mine. I fill my nostrils with her powerful rose perfume and beg her for forgiveness and release. Instead, she releases her hellish grip on my sex and guides me to the shower room. Here, under her watchful eyes, I am made to wash myself very thoroughly with scented sissy soap. My silky smooth body is, of course, a source of further arousal. Christina insists that I spend a number of deeply tortuous minutes soaping my ultra sensitive breasts, and I continue to squeal with a dark painful passion as this forced caress drives me quite mad.

  Eventually, I am dragged in a state of semi-delirium from the shower and very carefully and intimately tried by the senior housemaid. As the thick soft scented pink towel is carefully guided over my sex toy form, I moan with pleasure. I feel the soft teasing silk of Christina’s exquisite dress brushed against my so terribly sensitised form, the sheer electric nylon of her tights kiss my legs and thighs. My rubberised cock inadvertently brushes against the fluffy layers of frou-frou petticoating that maintain the ultra-short skirt of her maid’s dress at a near 45-degree angle. Her silk-gloved hands traverse my tight helpless petite buttocks with a fiendish teasing intent and I squeal my angry appreciation. She laughs and promises me a sound spanking. I moan into the fat ball gag, begging her to carry out her erotic threat as quickly as possible.

  By the time she returns me to the bedroom, I am mad for her, my mind a sex mush, my body a device to torture itself beyond the edge of sanity and into the black lands of the absolute id.

  She grabs me by the hair and pulls me with her onto the bed. Within seconds I am held over her nylon-sheathed knees, my cock held tightly between her warm hosed thighs, and a rain of hard mocking blows are falling on my buttocks. I cry out a confession of intense pleasure into the ball gag and her own desperately excited breathing rings in my sissy ears.

  After twelve hard merciless and utterly wonderful slaps, I am thrown off her knees and told to stand to attention before her with my hands behind my back.

  My cheeks flushed, my substantial bosom rising and falling desperately, my cock rearing up before her like a black sex sword, I await my fate with an ecstatic trepidation.

  Christina looks into my eyes and I see a burning dark passion. As the heat in my bottom turns from pain into a warm teasing pleasure, I know that my suffering will never end and neither will my desire for it.

  ‘As much as I would like to put you through your paces, my sexy little minx, I am afraid Mistress Eleanor has demanded your presence by no later than 7.00 p.m.; so let’s get you prepared.’

  She rises from the bed and indulges herself with a last, teasing caress of my incarcerated cock. I moan and her smile lengthens into a grin of sadistic pleasure. Then the new dressing begins.

  From the wardrobe, this strange, apparently bottomless wardrobe, this garden of fetishistic delights, she takes a pink Senso latex rubber leotard and sets it down on the bed. I look at it with aroused eyes. It is incredibly thin and slight, almost a piece of artificial skin. I feel my cock twitch at the thought of this slender highly erotic garment resting against and teasing my own skin.

  The leotard is followed by a pair of pink Senso silk tights of a denier so fine it seems that what Christina is holding before me is carefully shaped pink mist. I moan with appreciative pleasure at the sight of this ultra-sexy hose and watch carefully as Christina then pulls a pair of pink patent leather ankle boots from a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe. The boots have startling seven-inch stiletto heels with silver tips and a large glass rose has been positioned on the sharp point of each toe. Pink silk ribbon laces run through silver buckles, and a row of tiny bells are attached to the top of each ankle.

  The boots are placed by the bed and then more kinky fetish wear is extracted from the wardrobe. First, a striking pink Senso latex rubber hood, an extraordinary device with no mouth piece, but with two eye sockets, each covered by a fine film of transparent pink-tinted plastic. This is followed by a pair of pink Senso latex rubber fingerless mittens, a very wide thick pink leather belt complete with attached rubber shackles, and a strange pink Senso latex rubber sheath.

  Before I am wrapped in this bizarre and exciting costume, I am led to the small dressing table just beyond the wardrobe and carefully made up. Since the Operation, there has been little need for any significant make-up, as my face has effectively been carefully tattooed to produce permanently cherry-red lips and flawless alabaster skin; and indeed, it is not my face that concerns the lovely senior housemaid. My naked body is covered in a thick mist of powerful musk perfume and my thick, now very long blonde hair is carefully brushed through and then bound in a tight bun with a pink elastic pom-pom band. I behold my reflection with a familiar fascination, even now startled by the power of my transformation into a beautiful sissy slave.

  Then Christina takes up a large pink rouge stick and adds a further kinky touch. I squeal with a savage sexual pleasure as she proceeds to apply the stick to my nipples and also to a large area at the front of each large breast, creating two sexy pink targets.

  Once so intimately rouged, I am led back to the bed and the next stage of this deeply perverse and awfully exciting dressing.

  We begin with the tights, the beautiful ultra-fine silk tights. Christina orders me to sit on the bed and draw the delicate sensual hose up my legs. I obey without a second’s hesitation, feeling my sex dig painfully into my stomach and my painted breasts pull down against my ribs as I do so. The vibrator is pushed deeper into my arse and I release a well gagged moan of delight. My arousal is absolute; I am enslaved by myself, by the desires programmed and the desires extracted from the depths of my subconscious.

  As I very carefully draw the tights up my legs, I experience a new level of fetishistic pleasure. This is a truly astonishing tactile torment, one which I accept with a gasp of deep and helpless gratitude.

  ‘Yes,’ Christina whispers, her own arousal very apparent in wide sex tortured eyes, ‘they’re really lovely. I wish I could wear them tonight.’

  As I draw them up over my angry tightly imprisoned sex, I notice a small hole and soon realise this is to accommodate said member. As I stare down at this kinky addition, Christina steps forward and takes the edge of the tights and pulls it up snugly around my waist. As she does so, my cock falls against the hole and, almost of its own desperate volition, begins to force its way forward. Christina quickly slips her long blood-red-nailed fingers around the rubberised head and then pulls the whole organ through, quickly followed by the bulging testicles. I moan with a familiar outraged excitement, and watch, stunned, as she then proceeds to draw the pink rubber sheath over my already tightly sheathed sex!

  To my surprise, the sheath is actually made of a far tougher harder rubber than the Senso latex. Indeed, it is more a plastic cover, with its own rigid unforgiving form, than a rubber sheath. It is pulled over my restrained sex and then secured in place against my lower stomach via adhesive tape that runs around its inner rim, leaving my rubberised testicles trapped beneath. It is now as if I have a huge metal cigar rising up from where my sex had been.

  I moan with delight and surprise into the still firmly secured fat rubber ball gag. Christina then takes up the stunning pink rubber leotard and orders me to step into it. I obe
y without the slightest hesitation, and soon I am drawing this highly erotic article of fetish wear up my delicately hosed legs. As I pull it up over my thighs, Christina again steps forward to help with the challenges posed by my rampant sex organ. And it is only now that I see there is a small slit in the front of the leotard, and it is through this that the gorgeous highly aroused senior maid pulls my entombed sex. As she does so, I notice that there is hardly any feeling – the hard cover protects my sex from the stimulation of Christina’s elegant expert hands; and as soon as I realise this, a sense of dreadful disappointment washes over me. Now I am to be denied feeling in the most erotically sensitive part of my body.

  My cock pops out of the front of the leotard which is then pulled up over my gloriously ample breasts and then up over my shoulders.

  The leotard is a startlingly arousing piece of dark Senso genius. It spreads over my buxom sissy form more like hot pink paint than a material, revealing every curve and sensual bump, including precisely detailed re-readings of my large firm breasts. I moan with a terrible deep pleasure into the ball gag and watch the sex light burn even brighter in Christina’s gorgeous dark-brown eyes. There is a slight film of sex sweat on her pale chin and glistening erotic moisture on her full blood-red lips. Her own substantial chest rises and falls with the heightened beating of her sissy heart and she pushes her sheer nylon-sheathed thighs tightly together in order to push the vibrator permanently inhabiting her expertly trained arse even deeper into the sensual darkness of her most intimate region.

  ‘God,’ she whispers, her normally high-pitched voice lowered two octaves by the madness of a fierce and utterly unforgiving sexual arousal. ‘Oh God.’

  Then, with a slight shake of her head, she returns from the pit of all-consuming desire and attempts to continue with this highly exciting and ultra-kinky task.

  After the leotard come the matching fingerless mittens. They are strikingly petite and, as they are applied, quickly and very effectively immobilise my hands. The sense of helplessness this immobilisation creates is quite wonderful and I whimper my masochistic pleasure, a pleasure that is given even greater force when Christina attaches the thick pink leather belt around my slender sissy waist and then slips my rubberised wrists into the tight rubber shackles, pinning my arms to my sides and leaving me deliciously exposed to her wicked and wildly perverse attentions.