by Tom Tame
handling. In his mind, even the pressure he sometimes felt between his legs when the guests spoke down to him,
teased him, pinched him, had stopped forming the image of a cock in his mind. With a shock, he realized that over
the past few weeks, he'd imagined only a soft pair of lips in his gaffe, plumping with arousal. In his mind, the little
squirts of precum that fell cold into his thong had become simply the leaking wetness of a girl's arousal.
Before he could ponder it too deeply, he felt his cock growing, stretching, aching. He needed to touch it. He
needed to wrap his hand around it this very instant! He needed to reclaim his masculinity. It was the only way for
him to escape this place.
"Be a good girl and remain perfectly still for me. Perfectly still . . . no matter what."
He simply couldn't muster the will to touch himself, and this made him whimper with desire. How could
Miss Lydia make him resist the need of his own body so easily?
His cock felt odd. It felt foreign. It felt out of place and weird now. He was a girl with a girl's body. His
name was Alyssa and his breasts were soft and full and his ass was soft and full and his body had become soft and
curvy and he felt childish and silly and six steps behind everyone else. More importantly, he realized his cock didn't
feel like his cock. He didn't even feel like a "he" anymore. He felt like a girl with a strapon. Someone had placed this
awkward, strange cock onto his womanly body, but it wasn't truly connected, even though he could feel how it
throbbed and ached.
Was he that far gone? What had they done to him? If he could just get his hand (with his pretty red glistening
nails) wrapped around his cock, he could reclaim it and make it his again.
Miss Lydia tapped him on the head and he raised it instantly. "Good girl. Now . . . this will feel like you're
being punished. You'll think you've been naughty and disobedient, but I want you to remember this as a means to an
end. I want you in the right frame of mind when you meet your sweet Sophia and this will accomplish that. So, be a
good girl and take it and let it work, okay?"
He nodded slightly. The air was cold on his ass. He felt that the head of the odd cock between his legs was
already slick with precum, wet and cold. He struggled to remember what it used to feel like, so normal, so natural. A
cock. His cock. It was attached to him. It must be his. It had felt like his once long ago. He'd even used it on Miss
Sophia.
Something cold and hard pressed against his cheeks. He knew instantly what it was. Long and wooden, wide
and flat, Miss Lydia was going to paddle him. He'd never been spanked before, even as a child. He thought to
himself, "This is crazy. I can't let her do this to me. I won't."
His hands curled into fists on the bed as he waited, motionless. "You'll find you naturally want to tense up,"
Miss Lydia's told him with a soft, caring tone. "But tensing will make the pain worse. Focus on relaxing, breathing.
You only have one instruction to remember. Remain perfectly still. Focus on that."
She rubbed the paddle in large circles around his ass and gave him a few little love taps. They didn't hurt,
which gave him hope, but still he rebelled inside. He absolutely couldn't let her do this to him. He wasn't a child. He
didn't need to be spanked. Had he not done everything they wanted? It was time for them to end it. It was time for
him to go home, for them to give him back his normal body. It was simple enough: all he had to do was hop off the
bed and leave.
Miss Lydia tapped his bottom in a quick little rhythm, making the taps progressively harder until he found
himself breathing harder in response. His ass was getting awfully warm. How far was she intending to take this?
She swung the paddle wide then and when it landed, it did so with a SMACK and a moment later a furious
stinging sensation crawled across the flesh of his ample bottom. He bucked forward and whined, "Ow!"
She wasn't being playful. That had really hurt! She gave him a sharp, quick smack and whispered, "Didn't I
tell you not to move?"
He nodded and reached back to soothe his poor bottom. "Y-yes, but--"
Miss Lydia slapped his hand. "Every time you move you get another one until you learn. Is that clear?"
This wasn't fair! He'd been her good girl all this time. Why was she punishing him for it? "Y-yes. . . ."
She gave him another swat. "Yes . . . what?"
He licked his lips, which had suddenly become inexplicably dry. She SMACKED him again! "Yes, Miss
Lydia!"
She smacked him again. "That's to help you remember. Think of it as sealing the deal. Now, scoot back to
the end of the bed where you were. I shouldn't have to stretch, and stop moving or this will take all night."
She struck him lightly for a while, and then increased the pain until he couldn't catch his breath, until he
clutched at the bed sheets, until his toes curled in his silver heels and his body broke out in a sweat. Then she struck
him fast and hard, and again he bucked forward.
"Back into position," she ordered.
It wasn't fair. He slid back hesitantly.
She struck him again. "Why did you move?"
"I couldn't help it!" It was true. His body naturally jerked away from the pain. She was asking the
impossible!
She struck him. "You couldn't help disobeying me?"
"Y-yes, I mean, no, I mean--"
She struck him again. Already he was learning the difference between spankings. The blows she was landing
on him now were instructional. The light ones were a tease for the hard ones, and the hard ones were a test. "Didn't I
tell you to breathe?"
"Yes, yes, but--"
She struck him again, teaching him. "Yes what?"
"Yes, Miss Lydia--"
"Yes, Miss Lydia what?"
His mind went blank. His ass was throbbing. Tears trickled down his face. What did she want from him?
She struck him again and he sobbed miserably. "Didn't I tell you to breathe?"
"Yes, Miss Lydia!"
Her voice--so calm, so reasonable--was like a lighthouse beacon holding vigil in the stormy night of his
mind. "Yes, Miss Lydia . . . you told me to breathe!"
Her hand fell on his shoulder. It gripped and pulled him further back toward her, back into position, though
he thought he'd already scooted backwards. His body had obviously not wanted to return to the very end of the bed;
that was the origin of great pain. "I'm going to hit you again. Very hard. And you're going to breathe. And you're not
going to move. You're going to do what I told you to do. Is that clear?"
It wasn't clear! He couldn't simply not move. His body wanted to get away from the pain and he couldn't stop
it! He knew he should tell her this, but he only sniffled and nodded.
She struck him. Instructional. "Is that clear, Alyssa?"
He blathered out, "Yes, Miss Lydia!"
"Hold still," she whispered and he waited with closed eyes, so tense his entire body was trembling. "Relax."
He did. Or he tried to.
The paddle whistled through the air and struck with a loud CRACK!
A moment later, he squealed as the pain rushed through him; the stinging, like a swarm of angry bees, was
having a field day with his poor brutalized cheeks.
"Breathe," Miss Lydia counseled softly and he did.
"Don't you move now," she warned, and somehow, he remained in position.
Suddenly, he felt Miss Lydia's small warm hand wrap around his cock. It grew into her grip as if ma
de for it.
Pleasure. Pleasure? It had been ages since he'd received pleasure from his cock. It turned rock hard and she gave it a
light stroked and he threw back his head and moaned loudly. His world suddenly was filled with color. It felt so
good.
"Good girl," Miss Lydia whispered. She giggled. "You're learning. See?"
She let go of his cock and it dangled heavily beneath him. The rest of him deflated like a leaky balloon; his
head fell forward, his long blonde hair in his eyes, glued to his face by smears of sweat. The pleasure of Miss
Lydia's touch on his cock was gone, but the memory of it remained, and it was like a kind of torture knowing such
ecstasy had coursed through him only seconds ago but was now absent until she chose otherwise.
She struck him. Instructional.
"Yes, Miss Lydia," he answered quickly.
He couldn't see the grin on her face, but he knew it was there.
I Sing the Maid Electric
He was a wreck. His face ruined, his ass throbbing like a pulsing tomato, his joints weak, he felt wiped,
exhausted, but somehow he remained on his hands and knees while she paddled him into submission. He was past
caring, past desire and dread; he was only a trembling body now, under Miss Lydia's thumb.
He wept and sobbed and cried out when the paddle hit, and then gasped and moaned and squirmed when
Miss Lydia rewarded him with pleasure. His cock shrank away from the pain, then grew into her small hand to
receive its pleasure. Finally, not knowing which direction was up, it stopped deflating. A little lever had flipped in
his mind and he couldn't unflip it. The pain was still distressing (to say the least), but Miss Lydia's sweet, caring tone
reached into the core of his mind and caressed it. He felt the sheer ecstasy of being manipulated by her. She was
building the pain in his mind, collecting it like rainwater in a barrel, and then releasing it with a flood.
He floated in a dreamy euphoria for a while, then she began again.
When she was done, it barely registered. She smeared a cold, soothing cream onto his ass while he sniffled.
She played with his cock a little as if it were a toy, flicking it with her finger, lifting it with one finger and letting it
drop. It was fully engorged, fully sensitive. She ran her hand down his sweaty back as if petting him. She smoothed
his long, blonde hair down the back of his head and smiled at him, enjoying how flushed his face was, how glazed
his eyes were.
"You're a good girl now, aren't you? A very good girl. Aren't you a good girl?" Her whisper made him
shiver.
He whispered back. "Yes, Miss Lydia. Th-thank you."
Her eyes roved over his face. She tilted her head from one side to the other, studying him. "I asked you a
question, Alyssa. Shall I get the paddle again?"
He shook his head, swallowed deeply. "N-no, Miss Lydia."
"Aren't you a good girl?"
"Y-yes, Miss Lydia." He risked gazing into her eyes and was instantly lost. He felt it, tears leaking again,
nodding. He felt in the deepest part of his soul. "I'm a good girl, Miss Lydia."
She smiled and blushed and he went dizzy with happiness. "You'll always be a good girl for me?" She
cupped his hanging breast and gave his nipple a gentle rub. "You'll always be a good girl for Miss Sophia?"
He nodded, gasping, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. How could such a soft touch on his breast feel
so good? "Y-yes," he whispered, "yes, Miss Lydia, I'll--I'll always be a good girl for y-you and Miss Sophia."
His cock still hung below him, stiff and aching, but without touch it was just a cock and nothing more, not
his exactly, not connected. It was as if it floated in the air below him, apart from him, there, but not there. It
remained hard though, hard and yearning. It was her voice that kept him that way, the sweet lilt of her tone, playful,
but so utterly in control. She had him so deeply subdued that she could have fun with him now, and he felt it, and his
cock showed her how utterly under her spell he was. His erection made him helpless; he couldn't hide it, couldn't
pretend.
Miss Lydia smiled and giggled while her eyes danced. She studied him closely, whispering. "Tell the truth.
You prefer it this way, don't you? You prefer being our good little girl, don't you?"
Did he? He didn't want to admit it. He wanted to shake his head.
"Shy, humiliated, turned on, fondled by the guests, bossed around by everyone, even Miss Sophia,
especially Miss Sophia. Miss Sophia, your wife. Teetering around on your little heels, breasts bouncing, skirt
flouncing, flashing your panties." She laughed. "Tell the truth."
He was locked up inside. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.
Miss Lydia pressed one finger gently against the base of his cock and drew it down gently to the tip. She
dipped her finger in the glaze of precum, which had collected on his head and smeared around it slowly until he
whimpered. His body began to tremble again; he'd almost forgotten how sore and hot his ass had become.
He held his breath. He inhaled sharply. He dropped his head down, then lifted it. There was no comfort.
There was only her wet finger running slickly around the head of his cock, pausing to give the underside extra
attention every now and then.
She giggled and painted his lips with his precum, spreading it around his red lips. He instinctively licked,
but it was mostly tasteless, not enough to flavor his tongue. "Answer the question, Alyssa."
The words fell from his lips before he even knew they'd gathered in his mind. "Yes, Miss Lydia."
She snuggled closer, pulling his head up by his hair, staring with earnest deep into his eyes. "Yes what?"
Yet again, he felt tears dribbled from his eyes. "Yes . . . I prefer being this way, Miss Lydia."
Miss Lydia appeared skeptical. "You're not just telling me what I want to hear, are you, Alyssa?"
He closed his eyes and the tears dribbled faster. He shook his head and cried quietly. "N-no, Miss Lydia."
"Why? Why do you prefer being this way?"
He couldn't answer. This was worse than the spanking. The paddle had rules, rules he could learn and
follow. This was pulling things from the center of his being he didn't even want to admit to himself.
"Why do you prefer being this way, Alyssa?"
"Because--" He sniffled and licked the tears from his lips. They tasted salty, but there was a coppery tang to
it and he realized he was finally tasting his own cum. All of his life he'd spurted it out, but never tasted it. Miss
Sophia had taken long swallows of it; she'd had her mouth filled with it, her nostrils, her face and breasts and belly
and ass covered by it. Now he knew at least a little of what she'd endured. "Because . . . because I couldn't make
Miss Sophia happy the other way."
Miss Lydia smiled. "That's right. She prefers you this way, and so do I. She's out there getting her every
little hole filled, getting used in every sense of the word. She's in utter heaven, darling, but she misses you. She
wants you, and so I'm going to return you to her. I'm going to give you back. She gave you to me so I could work
my magic on you, and now I have. Your relationship is going to be very different now. You'll have to adjust. You
will. I know you will, and if you're a little reluctant, she knows exactly how to fix you."
He nodded. He was exhausted, drenched with sweat, drained, but the thought of seeing Miss Sophia again,
his wife, of being with her, filled him with a new spark of energy. "Please . . . may I see her now?"
>
Miss Lydia giggled and tapped him on the nose. "Almost. We have one last little thing to do before you fix
your face and clean yourself up, and we're already late. She'll be wondering what happened to you."
He was left on all fours on the bed, still trembling, realizing how suddenly parched he was while Miss
Lydia hurried away, opening drawers, gathering items. When she returned, he felt her weight on the bed. She laid
her hand on the small of his back and said, "This will be a little cold at first."
It was cold, and wet, and it was deposited right where he hoped nothing would ever go, right on the small,
puckered rose of his anus. She spread it around with a finger. It began to warm, began to tingle a little, and
alarmingly, it began to feel good. It was a violation of the worst kind, but Miss Lydia kept his reluctance at bay with
the occasional soft stroke to his cock. As she worked his anus looser with her finger, pressing it in a little, then
rubbing, then pressing it in further, she played with his nipples from time to time, sending him into confusing spirals
of shame and pleasure.
His anus puckered like a pair of lips squeezed tight, but then it released and her finger slipped deeper. He
whimpered and thought, "No. Please not this. Please not there," but Miss Lydia was methodical and obviously an
expert. In only a matter of moments, her finger was pressing, warm and wet and deep, into his opening. She held it
there, maintaining the pressure, never yielding, but never forcing. "Breathe, sweetie. Nice deep breaths."
He tried, and he hoped desperately she would stroke his cock again, play with his super sensitive nipples
again, but for the longest time she didn't. Then, as if by magic his body betrayed him. Miss Lydia knew it would, of
course, and the fact that she so expertly and quickly manipulated him, drove him into a strange giddy state. She
knew him, knew his body better than he did, and she worked it so easily that he never had a chance. To his dismay,
his anus didn't just yield to the pressure of her finger; it actually felt as if it drew it in, sucked it in.
Her finger was inside him now and she held it there and whispered "Breathe" again. He did so and after a
few moments, it was as if he didn't feel her finger at all, then she began to work it inside of him, loosening him up.