He releases her and she sighs with pleasure.
Then he takes her by the arm and leads her into the front room. She totters alongside him, feeling utterly feminine, in a way that is now more complete and intense than in any other point in her life.
He leads her to the middle of the room and makes her stand with her hands behind her back as he carefully inspects every inch of her slender, elegant and very beautiful form.
‘Perfect,’ he whispers. ‘Utterly perfect.’
She blushes and thanks him.
‘Stay there,’ he whispers, and then rushes from the room, returning in a few seconds with the bag.
‘What’s in it?’ she asks.
‘Toys,’ he says, the fire in his black eyes burning bright.
She swallows hard and looks down at the bag.
‘And wine.’
He opens the bag and takes out an expensive bottle of red wine.
‘What’s for dinner?’
She looks at the clock. It is already six-thirty p.m.
‘Chicken. A sauce. Nothing too elaborate.’
While she cooks, he prowls around the kitchen. Now and again he moves closer to her, running his hands over her body, especially her legs. She moans with pleasure and fights to concentrate on the cooking.
‘You smell fantastic,’ he whispers, moving closer, kissing her neck, his hands running up her hosed thighs.
She moans and pushes her shapely, tightly pantied bottom into his eager palm. A finger slips between her legs and she squeals with girlish delight.
‘I saw Cherry today,’ he says, his voice thick with sex. ‘All she wanted to do was talk about you. She likes you very much, Eve. Very much.’
Poor Eve can barely respond. A vision of the gorgeous Cherry floods her teased and tormented mind.
‘We should get together sometime. All three of us,’ he adds, pressing his finger hard against her silk-sealed arsehole.
‘Yes,’ Eve gasps. ‘I’d really like that.’
He removes his hand and strokes her neck. She lets out a meow of kittenish pleasure.
She serves dinner wearing a heavily frilled pinafore, a fifties housewife serving her man.
‘I like the pinny, Eve. Very sexy. I’d love to see you in a full maid’s uniform.’
She totters before him in the sexy heels, her long, dark legs tightly together, her thighs rubbing through the sex-film of sheer nylon, carrying plates, bottles, glasses. Her bottom wiggling in the tight skirt, her beautiful eyes wide and flashing with a bright, confident arousal. As the evening progresses, she is becoming more and more confident, yet in a slightly paradoxical and deeply delicious way. For the more confident she becomes in her femininity, the more she desires absolute submission. Once again she recalls the spanking; then she remembers the erotic sufferings of the lovely and unfortunate Honey. Her cock stretches and she sighs. The pleasure she feels is beyond words.
They eat the meal with surprisingly little conversation. She is very aware of him watching her, marvelling at her perfect feminine gestures, at her striking authenticity.
‘I have one upstairs,’ she says, suddenly, between small, careful mouthfuls of tender, moist and savoury chicken.
Momentarily, Richard is confused.
‘Sorry?’
‘A maid’s uniform. You’ve seen it. I’ll put it on for you.’
His confusion passes. He smiles. Erotic cruelty returns to his gaze.
‘Yes. But not tonight. I’ve got other plans for tonight.’
Now she is confused. He laughs. ‘Just a little test for my pretty petal.’
She swallows with nervous desire and avoids his eyes. She knows she will do anything he wants. And the thought fills her with a dizzying sexual thrill.
After dinner and two glasses of wine each, they return to the living room. He sits down on the sofa and she stands before him, hands held behind her back, a posture of gentle but absolute submission.
‘Sit on my lap,’ he orders.
She smiles and carefully lowers herself on to his knees. As she does so, she is aware of the skirt riding up her thighs and of his eyes pinned to her increasingly apparent and shockingly sexy black nylon-sheathed flesh.
‘What’s the test?’ she asks teasingly, settling her bottom over his hard, large sex.
‘I need to know how much you trust me. So let’s call it a test of trust.’
She smiles, but there is an obvious concern in her eyes, a crack in the façade of she-male self-assurance.
‘I trust you . . . I think.’
They both laugh at her coquettish reply.
‘I want to tie you up.’
Her eyes widen. Her body stiffens. His smile turns into a cool grin of sadistic appraisal.
‘Tie me up?’
Her voice is filled with a fear-edged desire.
‘I want to play a game. To test you and to amuse me. I like playing games.’
Her silence expresses a real and disturbing doubt.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, stumbling into a new realm of real concern.
Maybe she has made a terrible mistake. Maybe Richard is quite mad. Maybe she is in the hands of some weird sex criminal.
His smile widens. ‘You’re frightened. I like that. I want you to be frightened. Yet your fear can be overcome by desire, Eve. By your desire for the ultimate feminine submission.’
Her eyes widen, her mouth slips open slightly. She shakes her head slightly.
‘Get up,’ he orders, his smile fading, a look of grim, very dark determination washing over his handsome, lean face.
She obeys and stands before him with frightened eyes, arms at her side, her heart beginning to beat faster, with fear and very genuine trepidation.
He rises from the sofa and goes over to the bag. From inside, he takes a coil of white nylon rope. She looks at this and shakes her head. ‘No . . . please,’ she whispers.
‘Put your hands behind your back.’
She stands still, doesn’t move an inch. He then quickly steps forward and grabs one of her wrists. She shouts ‘No!’, a firm refusal in the voice of Adam. But Richard is strong; in fact, he is much stronger than Adam ever was. They struggle now, but it is a relatively simple task for Richard to pin Eve’s wrists behind her back and then tie them tightly together with the rope.
‘Please,’ Eve pleads. ‘Don’t . . . you’re frightening me.’
He laughs and returns to the bag. In the heels, with her hands bound, she is unable to move quickly enough even to contemplate escape. Then to her horror, he produces a thick roll of wide, silver-coloured duct tape and what appears to be a pair of white silk panties.
‘And you’re talking too much.’
He grabs her by the neck and she screams. He then shoves the heavily scented panties deep into her mouth. She gags and tries to spit them out. He clamps a hand over her mouth and pushes her back on to the sofa. Her legs kick out desperately, causing her skirt to ride back up her thighs and reveal her sexy panties. To her amazement, she suddenly realises her erection is stronger and harder than ever.
He holds her down with his body and tears a long strip of tape from the roll. The thick, harsh tearing sound fills the room and her eyes plead for mercy. Then he spreads the tape over her mouth, pressing it hard against her lips and bulging cheeks. She squeals angrily and he bursts out laughing.
‘What a lovely damsel in distress you make, Eve.’
His terrible, deeply physical masculine power is now apparent in every gesture, every rough manipulation. She is bound and gagged, totally at his mercy. He can do anything he wishes to her. She is terrified and, to her astonishment, furiously aroused.
He releases her and sets to work on her long, black nylon-sheathed legs, binding her ankles and her knees very tightly together with more lengths of the nylon rope. She moans her fear and tries to struggle free, but he is a true rope expert, and she is painfully secure and thus utterly helpless.
When he has finished with her legs, he makes her sit
up and then uses another length of rope to bind her elbows painfully together. She gives a furious, outraged look as he completes this particularly sadistic part of her encasement in dark bondage.
Then he sits back and observes his perverse handiwork.
‘Superb. Absolutely superb.’
Tears of terror trickle from her eyes and this just seems to make him all the more aroused. She looks down at his jeans and sees the hard, long length of his sex press against the front. There is truly no escape.
He returns to the bag as she struggles pointlessly in her bondage, wiggling and squealing, her skirt now pulled fully up around her waist. Yet it is as she struggles, as her large, artificial chest wobbles desperately before her, that she begins to feel something new, yet also quite old: a deep sense of femininity. As she wriggles and moans, she finds herself exaggerating the movements, stylising them. She has seen many films where beautiful women are bound and gagged; and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit a sense of arousal, a sense of very dark but also, she feels, quite natural, sexual excitement. The idea of the damsel in distress is universal; the collision of beauty and peril seems unavoidable. And as she struggles, she begins to realise she is expressing her inner femininity in a particularly powerful and erotic manner.
His hands are on her again. His large, controlling, confident and beautiful hands.
And it is then that he holds the vibrator before her. A thin, quite small vibrator made from pink plastic.
‘It is time to begin your training, my love.’
He quickly turns her on to her stomach, so that her face is pressed down into the sofa and her bottom is left jutting provocatively upward. She is aware of him kneeling directly by her backside. Then his hands are carefully pulling her panties down around her knees and working the tights down after them. She squeals angrily into the gag and he slaps her left buttock very hard, inducing a high-pitched squeal of pain.
Then his hands are working between her legs on the gusset section of the body-shaper. This shaper has a gusset-based lock and he slowly removes the clips that hold it tightly in place between her pert, perfectly formed and very pink buttocks.
Then the gusset is free and he is pulling the body-shaper up her bottom and hauling her skirt with it, so that both end up wrapped around her lower waist. Then his hands are again between her legs, but this time they dig deeper, reaching over her bulging, aching balls and grasping the base of her rigid, straining sex.
She squeals and wriggles and his harsh laughter fills the room.
‘Hard as a rock,’ he snaps, a voice full of sadistic amusement.
Then he releases his tight grip and her sex is left to press desperately into the side of the sofa.
Richard administers four more hard slaps to her exposed backside before beginning the next phase of this ultra-kinky sex torture. Each slap is greeted with a well-gagged cry of anger, yet this is an anger laced with desire, with arousal, with the secret confession of masochistic enjoyment.
His fingers are working at her buttocks once again, now carefully parting them, creating an access way to her totally exposed anus. Her squeals are high and desperate and her erection on the very edge of a violent orgasm.
‘If you come, I’ll put you in a hog-tie and lock you in the broom closet for the night,’ he snaps as the low, deep, terrifying buzz of the vibrator begins to fill the room.
Her squealing lessens, as a terrible anticipation grips her consciousness. The tip of the cool plastic touches the red-fleshed edge of her arse. Her squeal becomes a helpless, sissy meow and then the buzzing of vibrator, combined with the sensual heat that is spreading from her well-spanked buttocks, between her legs and into her rigid sex, ensures a complete and utter surrender. All fear fades as the vibrator is pushed with great care and gentleness into her slowly parting anus. This slender, tiny device has only one purpose: anal stimulation, and as Eve begins to understand the true sensitivity of the back passage and thus its ability to give pleasure, she becomes Richard’s gorgeous sissy pet. She knows now there is nothing to fear, that this tight bondage is a test of the true depths and nature of Eve. She bites down on the panty gag and tastes an expensive French perfume. She closes her eyes and sees sex stars exploding across a universe of endless desire. Richard pushes a little harder and she feels as if she will split in two.
‘There, there,’ he whispers gently as she grunts with discomfort. ‘Just a little further, my love.’
As the vibrator moves deeper into her, the vibrations spread across her anal walls and then deep into her balls. The growing sexual stimulation is astonishingly powerful. She fights desperately not to come, her squeals now filled with furious, irresistible sexual hunger. The muffled cries are cries of unbearable pleasure, cries of sweet, intoxicating and eternal surrender.
Then there is a slight pop. The vibrator moves deep within her and slides to a halt. She feels her buttock cheeks lock around it, ensuring a weird, highly exciting self-sealing.
‘That was surprisingly straightforward,’ he says, pulling the body-shaper back into position and carefully clipping it into place. The shaper is followed by the gentle repositioning of the tights and panties. He then pulls the skirt back into place and softy pats her helplessly twitching bottom.
‘You’ll be ready for me in two to three weeks, I’d say. I think we’ll need an hour every night until then.’
Her eyes widen in surprise and eroticised horror at the thought of being plugged like this every night for the next fourteen to twenty-one days!
His arms wrap around her waist and carefully pull her up before gently lowering her face down on to the floor. She squeals with increasing pleasure as her face touches the edge of the carpet.
She watches his feet move around the room. Then she can feel him attaching another length of rope to the one binding her ankles so tightly and inescapably together.
There is a sudden, rather violent tug on the end of this rope and her ankles are being pulled across her body towards her wrists. Fear and pain return as the cruel hog-tie is secured, leaving her bound helplessly, face down on the carpet, the vibrator buzzing wickedly deep inside her arse.
‘There,’ he gasps. ‘All done. I need to get us some more wine for later and make a phone call. I’ll see you in a hour or so.’
She squeals furiously into the gag as he leaves the room. But then the front door slams and she knows she is alone in the house. Alone and utterly helpless. She moans and squirms with a terrible pleasure as the vibrator seems to drill even deeper into her tightly tethered form. The bondage is absolute and inescapable. She is pinned helplessly into position, a sexy she-male package ready for the pleasure of her kinky, cruel master. The feeling of helplessness is a truly startling aphrodisiac, and as she stretches against the unyielding ropes, she experiences an increasing level of submissive femininity. She recalls his firm, powerful, yet always caressing hands applying the rope to her body and she is lost in a bright, soul-enveloping bliss. This, she realises, is the burning light of masochistic desire that resides at the very heart of Eve.
For the next hour or so, she is lost in a strange contemplation of the adventures of the last twenty hours. Eve is free. Even tightly bound and gagged, she experiences a freedom beyond her imagination a week ago. Yet the rapid pace of events is dizzying. She has moved from a carefully closeted cross-dresser to a member of the most renowned transvestite club in the country. Now, she even has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who spanks her and places her in tight, perverse bondage.
As the vibrator sends waves of pleasure crashing across her tethered, so carefully feminine form, her hard, angry sex presses through silk and nylon against the carpeted floor of the living room. She unleashes a slightly melodramatic squeal of frustration. Images of a dark eroticism flood through her sex-addled mind. Her thighs, so completely sealed in the sheerest, most expensive nylon, rub helplessly together and create a hyper-erotic sex static. I am filled with sex electricity, she thinks. This is truly the Body Electric, a be
autiful she-male machine powered by a dark and perverse desire.
An image of Cherry returns to her now, along with Richard’s teasing words. She imagines the three of them together. Then she imagines she and Cherry, alone, gorgeous she-male lovers. Yes, this is the image that sticks. With Richard, there is a strange extension of the narcissism at the heart of the transvestite sexual experience. She finds him attractive only so far as he heightens her awareness and realisation of Eve. Yes, even when she was sucking him to that volcanic eruption of hot, salty cum – an act she found far from unpleasant – the core of her own pleasure was the simple fact that to give Richard this pleasure made her feel all the more feminine, all the more submissive. All the more Eve. Yet with Cherry, with the looks they had exchanged in the club, there was a desire that moved beyond herself, a desire that was directed towards an object that was not Eve. She imagines running her hands over Cherry’s firm, nylon-sheathed thighs; she imagines holding Cherry’s buxom form in her arms and pressing her lips against the black beauty’s full, blood-red mouth. She imagines them tied together like this, bound and gagged by Master Richard. And this thought is flooding her mind like blinding golden water or a loud blast of some perfect sex chord when the front door, which has been left teasingly on the latch, is pushed open and, a few seconds later, Richard enters the room.
He stands over her in silence for a long time. She moans into the gag and awaits her no doubt erotic fate.
Then, suddenly, he is kneeling before her.
‘Did my pretty petal enjoy her bondage?’
Poor Eve can only nod, a simple confession of the truth. Yes – she has enjoyed every tightly restricted minute.
‘Well, you can look forward to lots more from now on.’
She looks up at him with beautifully apprehensive, doe eyes and moans with a helpless delight. His smile softens.
‘God, you’re so beautiful,’ he whispers.
Then there is a silence, a strange, important silence in which a new level of feeling becomes apparent, a silence broken only by the steady, tiny sound of the vibrator deep inside her.
The Secret Self Page 11