Four
I returned to school a few days later, my future now completely changed. It had been agreed that I would complete my sixth-form education as quickly as possible and then be enrolled on the SMC training programme. While my teachers were hardly surprised that I would not be going on to university, they were quite startled and even horrified by my appearance. For I had returned to school dressed in a very special costume created by my amazing, supreme aunt, the costume of a very sissy boy.
With my hair now beautifully curled, my lips highlighted by the slightest hint of cherry-red lipstick, a very feminine perfume wafting teasingly from my slender form, I was a vision of gender ambivalence. Also, there was something very strange about my clothing. Although I wore the black trousers, white shirt, black pullover and tie that was the strictly enforced male uniform of my school, it was clear the design of the clothes that made up my particular uniform were far from standard: very tight black silk slacks, a white silk blouse rather than a shirt, and a pullover made from a very fine, expensive lamb’s wool. But this was nothing compared with what was hidden beneath: the very tight G-string, a very tight panty girdle, the teasing black nylon body stocking, a pair of heavily frilled white silk panties. These were the sissy underthings my gorgeous aunt insisted I wear every day beneath my feminised school uniform!
Of course I was utterly appalled when presented with this ‘outdoors’ attire. But I wore the costume without a whisper of protest, tottering into school as my heart thumped with a strange, but now not unfamiliar mixture of terrible fear and very powerful arousal.
I was mocked more than ever, by the other boys, by the girls, even by the teachers. It was clear to them that I was a pathetic gay boy, a grotesque sissy. Yet the strength and honesty of this new ‘me’ clearly frightened them. There was none of the aggressive, often physical bullying I had experienced previously, none of the pushing and shoving, the spitting, the violent ‘accidents’ during the games periods. Indeed, the games periods were now completely banned: my aunt had provided a note making it quite clear to the headmistress, who was a friend, that I was not to be subject to physical jerks of any kind.
It was, she reminded me, just a matter of putting up with one last term, of taking my exams and then stepping into my high heels on a permanent basis. Yet, by insisting on such a blatant expression of my feminisation when at school, she was also re-emphasising her new, authoritarian regime and her complete control over me, a control I accepted without a word of question or doubt, a control that had become far more apparent and severe following the departure of Lady Ashcroft and Miss Gillette.
At home, I was now constantly dressed in either the exotic black maid’s costume or one of the variety of splendidly detailed ‘little-girl’s’ dresses that my aunt so loved to imprison me within. When not at school, I was simply a slave: each minute of each hour taken up with a never-ending round of domestic chores. Cleaning, washing, ironing, even sewing and gardening! Plus, I was now being taught how to cook. Yet I never complained, not even when my sometimes poor performance was rewarded with swift and painful punishment. Yes, in the new regime of Aunt Jane, sound spankings were a regular occurrence: at least three times a week I was hauled over her nylon-sheathed knees and subjected to hard hairbrush spankings on my bare behind. Spankings which produced short-term tears and long-term arousal; spankings which my aunt clearly knew excited me, and which she turned into rituals of sadomasochistic pleasure. Spankings which clearly excited her also, and which often led, at the end of the day they had been administered, to a slow, teasing milking, and, after one particularly enthusiastic session, a shockingly new development in our physical relationship.
It was perhaps three weeks after my bizarre adventure with Lady Ashcroft. A Saturday evening. During the day I had been made to work particularly hard on cleaning the upstairs rooms and, when serving dinner, a drop of gravy had splashed onto my aunt’s tweed skirt. I apologised, mumbling a shaking, desire-edged ‘Please forgive me, Mistress’. My aunt’s response had been to insist I follow her up to her bedroom immediately.
I tottered behind her in my elaborate maid’s dress and towering high heels, my eyes as always drinking up her long, black-stockinged legs, knowing I was about to be soundly spanked. Once in her room, however, something very odd and exciting occurred.
That evening she was dressed in a tight white sweater, a short tweed skirt, black stockings and the almost regulation high heels. She looked, as always, absolutely stunning.
I had fully expected to be hauled over her knees, have my panties lowered and then to be spanked on my body stocking-covered backside. But instead, Aunt Jane proceeded to wiggle out of the sexy skirt! My eyes nearly popped out of my sissy head as she revealed what looked like black silk panties and jet-black stocking tops held in place by white lace-frilled garters. I tried to withhold a further moan of pleasure and surprise as she then pulled the sweater up over her head. As she let the sweater drop to the floor, I beheld a masterpiece of dominant womanhood. The black silk panties were in fact the bottom part of a glorious silk and satin basque that wrapped her plump, still very shapely form in its sensual embrace with a second skin that left my poor sex fighting furiously against the teasing prison of the rubber G-string.
The mounds of her large, pale-rose breasts appeared to be on the verge of exploding out of the bra cups of the basque as she lowered herself onto her dressing table stool and then ordered me forward.
‘Over my knees, now,’ she snapped, and I obeyed, shaking with a startled, almost painful desire as I lent over her black nylon-wrapped thighs.
I was then quickly hauled into place and my befrilled white silk panties were eased down my thighs. There was the usual, quite dreadful silence of expectation and then the sudden, whip-crack kiss of the hairbrush. As usual, I received twelve hard cuts that left me sobbing helplessly and even more excited than when my aunt had revealed her latest line in erotic undergarments.
Then, my body shaking with pain and need, I was helped to my feet and made to face Aunt Jane.
‘Lady Ashcroft told all about your little adventure. No wonder you couldn’t keep your hands off that naughty cock of yours.’
I blushed and stared down at her splendid high heels.
‘She also told how good you were at providing pleasure.’
My heart stopped briefly and I looked up at her.
‘From now on, I will expect you to do the same for me – regularly.’
As these teasing, devastating words slid sensually from her full, cherry-red lips, a terrible sex giddiness washed over me and I very nearly lost my balance.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ I gasped, the burning in my buttocks already turning into an arousing heat spreading between my legs. ‘Anything you wish.’
She smiled and turned her back on me. ‘Unzip me.’
My panties wrapped around my delicately hosed ankles, I tottered forward and, my hands shaking desperately, I managed to pull the basque’s silver zipper down the length of her exquisite back.
She slipped the black silken straps over her shoulders and allowed the basque to fall to the floor. I let out a loud gasp of pleasure as her plump, still perfectly formed buttocks were revealed and then she turned to face me.
Before me was a goddess. I swayed, awestruck, as this divinity was fully revealed. My aunt’s beautiful, sensually ample form presented itself as a vision, a grand, sexual revelation that seemed to light up the room like a powerful beacon of desire. Dressed in only her stocking tops and garters, a smile of wicked intent spreading across her lovely cherry-red lips, she stepped forward and took my left hand.
‘Come with me,’ she whispered.
She led me to the bed and I found myself watching in dumbstruck astonishment as she sat down on the soft, wide mattress and then pulled her gorgeous form up onto the silk sheets, before lying down on her back, with her head propped up against a mountain of soft pink pillows.
‘You know what I want, Shelly,’ she said, her voice hoarse with desire, and slowly
parted her legs.
I curtsied my understanding and climbed up onto the bed beside her, my heart pounding, the heat in my backside now a wave of erotic warmth engulfing my rock-hard sex.
As I moved my head between her legs, my petticoats sprawling around me, my panties still wrapped around my ankles, the smell of her cunt hit me in the face like a velvet-gloved fist – the pungent truth of her womanhood, a smell even more fundamental and arousing than the dark aroma of Lady Ashcroft, a smell that filled my soul with a helpless masochistic love. I moaned with pleasure and dived into this forest of particularly earthly delights with a sweet sissy smile on my face.
My aunt came after a few minutes of careful oral pleasuring. A bolt of pride shot through my sissified form as she screamed out her intense, volcanic female ecstasy. I felt her firm, muscular thighs press my head in a vicelike grip and then, slowly, relax. Covered in her thick, aromatic cum, I slid from between her legs and fell back on my knees. Sex juice dribbled from my smeared lips and across my chin. My eyes refocused on Aunt Jane’s astonishing naked form and a further moan of terrible pleasure slipped from my well-exercised mouth.
Eventually, my aunt pulled herself up and looked directly across at me.
‘Emily was right. You have a very real gift, my sweet.’
I blushed and smiled weakly, frightened to talk or move.
‘Now get up off the bed and undress.’
I nodded slightly, fearfully, and clambered off the bed. I then began to struggle out of my marvellous maid’s attire, my mind swirling with thoughts of what new adventure awaited me on this extraordinary evening.
My aunt sat up, her plump, perfect form covered in sex sweat, a look of supreme satisfaction lighting up her gorgeous face.
She watched me strip down to my foundation garments and then, rising slowly from the bed, strolled over and helped me remove the corset and the body stocking. My eyes were glued to her large, pink breasts the whole time and her smile widened as a stiff nipple brushed against my now naked chest and I squealed with sissy pleasure.
‘If you perform your duties as well as you have done this evening, petal, you may get to suckle me.’
I performed an eager, almost desperate curtsey and my stunning dominatrix aunt unleashed a whip-crack laugh of contempt.
‘But not tonight, Shelly. Tonight you begin to learn about the importance of restraint.’
She ordered me to slip out of the G-string and I soon found myself standing stark naked before her, my erection rising up between us some paradoxical symbol of aggressive male desire and my absolute submission to this new regime of female control.
We faced each other, both naked, both clearly aroused. There was hesitation in my aunt’s eyes as she looked down at my large, hard cock, a hesitation whose core was sexual excitement.
‘You tempt me,’ she whispered. ‘Your very presence is a terrible, naughty temptation. So it’s time to wrap you up and put you somewhere where I can’t be reminded of…this.’
As she spat out ‘this’, she grasped my sex and I squealed with shock and excitement.
‘Restraint is the only answer now, Shelly. I have indulged you over the last few weeks, but now, given your destiny, we need to establish a suitably firm regime of control. The milkings will cease as of this moment. There may be the odd reward, but on the whole you must forget the pleasures I have allowed since putting you in panties. You must forget them because you must come to realise your true role as a slave, a slave to me and to all womankind.’
After this odd pronouncement, Aunt Jane turned and opened a small drawer in the bedside table. From inside she took a thin piece of pink rubber, what looked like three silver rings of varying sizes, and a thick roll of silver masking tape.
‘Put your hands behind your back,’ she ordered, her dark eyes now burning with a quite savage desire.
I obeyed, my own eyes wide with trepidation and desire, a desire made so much more powerful by the terrible sense of humiliating exposure and the incredible levels of masochistic sexual energy.
She placed the strange materials on the bed and turned once again to face me, the rubber tube still in her hands.
‘We’ll begin with the restrainer,’ she said, stepping forward.
The word set off alarm bells in my sissy head. Almost immediately I remembered Lady Ashcroft and her teasing promise to send Aunt Jane a restrainer, a device designed to keep the male sex under firm female control.
‘This may disturb you, Shelly, so I suggest you try and remain as still as possible. I have no wish to hurt you.’
Then I entered a new realm of bizarre sissy pleasure. For before she had completed that last terrible sentence, the rubber restrainer had been rolled into a bowl and slid very gently over the purple, bulging head of my teased and tormented cock. I let out a squeal of delight and tried my very hardest to withhold a series of spastic wiggles of extreme pleasure. My aunt’s smile widened, her dark, sex-fuelled eyes met mine, and then she stretched the odd device over the full iron-hard length of my cock and then over my balls, thus enveloping my angry, teased sex in a film of thin, ultra-soft pink rubber.
Tears of frustrated pleasure trickled from my eyes as Aunt Jane, resplendent in her own nature suit, stepped back to admire her handiwork.
‘The restrainer is made from a very special type of latex rubber, Shelly,’ she purred, her own arousal very evident in the droplets of sparkling sex juice now seeping through her curly forest of pubic hair. ‘The material contracts when heated. This means every time you get hard it will automatically work to reduce the level of your erection. Although it won’t prevent you from becoming stiff – which seems to be your normal state – it will make orgasm very difficult. And once the rings are fitted…well, then orgasm will be impossible.’
I listened in horror and amazement, looking down at my furious, rubberised cock and confronting my terrible slave’s destiny.
Aunt Jane then took the three rings from the bed and placed them on the bedside table. She took up the biggest of the three and held it before me.
‘Perhaps the most intimate and immediate symbols of your enslavement after the feminine frillies,’ she whispered, suddenly clicking open the gleaming silver ring and slipping it around my scrotum. Her smile widening, she clicked the ring shut and my balls were suddenly locked in a very tight and rather uncomfortable metal embrace.
The pressure created by the ring actually made my erection strain harder and it stretched angrily against the tight rubber prison. Yet this was only the beginning; for within a few seconds, my gorgeous, cruel aunt had snapped the other two rings in place – one at the base of my cock, the other just beneath the circumcised head. Both were very tight and created an awful tension between my terrible need to be hard and the significant discomfort this hardness was now producing!
‘Very nice,’ Aunt Jane whispered, admiring both the strange beauty of my restrained cock and the obvious discomfort it was creating for me. ‘You will wear the restrainer and rings at all times. If you are able to look carefully you will see that at the head of the rubber restrainer is a pattern of tiny filters. This will allow you to urinate as and when required.’
I nodded warily and curtsied fearfully, watching my aunt with renewed desire and trepidation as she returned to the bedside table and took from the drawer a thin, pink box made from some sort of gleaming plastic.
Still smiling, she opened the box and took from inside it a new tool of sissy control, a tool that announced very clearly the absolute nature of my servitude and whose appearance excited me more than any other part of this kinky ritual of enslavement. For in her hand was a pink rubber plug shaped like the curving head of a rocket, with a flat, circular base, fixed to which was a small, curved hook.
‘A butt plug,’ she said, her eyes on fire, her breathing rapid. ‘A mere toy to start with, but in the coming months you will learn to accommodate more substantial intruders.’
Perhaps I should have felt fear and horror at this new perversion, b
ut all I did feel, as I was ordered to bend over and spread my legs, was a fierce arousal. Indeed, the sense of helpless exposure created by being made to present myself so blatantly to my lovely, cruel and very naked aunt, was a sense of sublime delight, a drugged sense of feminine weakness and submission.
She used a thick, cool gel to prepare my back passage for this strange and exciting intrusion. Using one hand to spread my buttocks apart, she slid a gel-covered index figure into my anus and inspired an immediate squeal of intense sissy pleasure. Pleasure, however, quickly turned to discomfort as Aunt Jane suddenly pushed very hard and seemed to plunge her sharp-nailed finger deep into the very heart of me. I cried out in pain as the finger suddenly broke through some unseen but definitely felt barrier and then slipped into a longer, softer part of my back passage.
‘You’re very tight, Shelly,’ she said, now carefully greasing my anus. ‘The plug and its successors will open you up nicely over the next few months.’
Now there was only a terrible, intimate pleasure; the walls of my arse were slowly, even teasingly greased. I moaned and sobbed, and when my aunt removed her finger, a sigh of terrible need seeped from my mouth, a sigh that was answered almost immediately with the introduction of the plug’s rounded head to the tip of my anus.
‘Just relax, Shelly,’ my aunt whispered. ‘If you relax, it won’t be that uncomfortable.’
I felt my buttocks pulled even further apart and the rubber intruder gently pushed into me. Once it began to ease forward, pressure turned into rotation. Now I knew what the strange oval tip and the handle were for: my aunt was screwing the plug into my arse!
It took her maybe five minutes to screw the plug to the point where the curved handle was resting between my buttocks, five increasingly pleasurable minutes that left me covered in sex sweat, my cruelly restrained cock pressed hard into my tummy, my eyes wide with shocked pleasure, my lips trembling with sissy desire.
It was as if I had been split in two and then joined back together around this wicked, sensual intruder. And when my aunt eventually helped me upright and my thighs closely together, I felt the plug pushed further into me and let out another girlish squeal of pleasure.
Company of Slaves Page 7
