He attaches a longer length of the cord to the cord tightly securing her ankles together and then attaches the free end to the cord binding her wrists. As he does so, he pulls her ankles up so that they are within a few inches of her wrists and leaves her bound in a painfully tight and deeply exciting hog-tie. She has never felt so absolutely helpless, so utterly in the power of another person. A definite sense of sado-erotic submission binds her soul as tightly as these fiendish, expertly secured ropes bind her body. She squeals into the fat, pungent gag with a supremely ambiguous mixture of pain and pleasure. She wiggles her pantied bottom with girlish trepidation framed by helpless and savage desire. She delights in this act of distress, this classic performance of femininity tethered and teased. She roles on to her side so that Richard can see her violently erect and painfully restrained cock. He laughs at this desperate display, kneels down and begins gently to tease her imprisoned member with long, elegant hands.
‘You really are a little tart,’ he whispers. ‘I’m going to enjoy taming you.’
She widens her eyes, nods furiously and squeals her desire: how much she is looking forward to being tamed!
He rolls Eve on to her right side and she finds herself facing Cherry, the she-male with whom she has developed the deepest emotional attachment. Cherry looks at Eve and moans her need into her own very fat gag. Her dark-brown eyes fill with a helpless love and her squeals become sissy mews of adoration.
Helen returns from her mysterious investigation a few minutes later and she and Richard leave without another word. Cherry and Eve are left hog-tied and helpless, wiggling and moaning with a deep sexual arousal. Eve looks down at Cherry’s panties and sees the huge, hard length of her sex strain against the shimmering silk material. Their eyes meet again and exchange a look of mutual intoxication. Yes: they are both drunk on a powerful potion of masochistic desire. They strain with wild abandon against their bonds, knowing that if they were to break free, they would be bitterly disappointed. The sense of absolute and precise constriction is overwhelmingly sexual. Yet the possibility of their bonds loosening is virtually zero: Richard is a true rope expert and they are truly and wonderfully immobilised.
Cherry manages to wiggle a little closer to Eve, and as she does so, her brassiere loosens slightly and one of her large, milk-chocolate-coloured breasts pops out of its pretty silk prison. Eve squeals with sissy pleasure at this hyper-erotic spectacle and Cherry’s eyes widen with her own furious excitement. She moves close enough for Eve to wriggle her body into a position where their restrained cocks can touch and she can press her exposed breast against Eve’s silk-sheathed chest. And this is where they stay, helpless and ecstatic for the next three hours, lost in a mutable sado-masochistic arousal built around a terribly dark and immediate intimacy, and also a very terrible frustration. As their tightly restrained cocks rub through nylon, silk, rubber and steel, they are, despite their exciting closeness, very far apart. Yet this frustration of true desire only adds to the pleasure the bondage ordeal brings. Communicating only with helpless looks of brutal she-male need, they are lost in a brilliant universe of ultimate and extended submission, willing damsels in distress.
During this splendid ordeal, Eve finds time to reconsider the strangeness of the events of the past few hours, and the more she ponders, the more certain she is that there is some unseen force behind what has happened to her, a force that spans more than the last seven days. Angela made that fact very clear.
Richard returns after more than three hours, by which time they are both very tired and terribly aroused. Yet, for the first half-hour he does nothing. It is dark and he flicks on the living-room light. They squeal into their fat gags and he steps over them with a deliberate indifference. He goes into the kitchen and makes a call on his mobile phone. His voice is inaudible and they can only stare at each other with longing and confusion and wiggle with melodramatic delight in their sissy bondage.
Eventually he returns and begins, Eve thinks, to untie her. But all he actually does is free the cord securing the hog-tie. Then, to Eve’s amazement and horror, he slips his hard, powerful arms beneath her armpits and pulls her to her feet. She sways precariously before him and he smiles with real affection. Then he picks her up and in one shockingly powerful move throws her over his shoulder. She squeals with a melodramatic fear and a dark, dark pleasure and he slaps her pantied behind, a quick, stinging blow that is genuinely painful.
‘Be quiet,’ he snaps, and, her bottom stinging, her heart beating with an almost crazed excitement, she obeys.
Then she is carried from the room and upstairs to her bedroom. Here, she is flung on to the bed, a terrifying experience that leaves her squealing with something approaching a genuine outrage.
He ignores her protests, protests that try, with little conviction, to communicate that he has gone too far. Then she notices that the sinister, apparently bottomless, black sports bag has been placed at the end of the bed.
He sits down and begins to search through the bag’s strange, worrying contents.
‘I trust you found Cherry’s company pleasant,’ he says, his tone one of regal contempt. ‘She certainly likes you. Which is actually very helpful, as Helen wants her to play a crucial part in your education.’
Then, to Eve’s genuine horror, he extracts from the bag what looks like a pink rubber dildo. He turns and crawls across the bed to where she is lying, helpless, wide-eyed with real, heart-stilling fear.
He holds the dildo directly before her eyes and she manages a low, desperate moan.
‘Say hello to the plug. You’ll wear it permanently as part of your training. Except, of course, when you’re being fucked. It’s not that big, really. It’s certainly not as big as Cherry’s cock.’
Slowly, carefully, he unties her, but leaves the gag in place. Then he grabs her waist and turns her on to her stomach. She squeals and wiggles. He slaps her silk-pantied bottom hard two more times and she feels her rock-hard, rubber-sealed sex press angrily into her stomach as he pulls her up on to her knees and forces her head down, so that her bottom is jutting upward helplessly before him. In one swift tug, he pulls down the panties. He then gently slips his free hand between her legs and frees the crotch clips that hold the teddy in place. Once these are removed, he pulls the crotch area of the teddy out and rolls the rear section up over her back, thus exposing her black nylon-sealed bottom to full view and his no doubt perverse attentions.
The tights are hauled down over her backside with a speed that betrays an impatient desire. His need is also apparent in his increasingly laboured and desperate breathing.
Then she feels his finger begin to work inside her, just like before, but harder, crueller.
‘Cherry told me about last night. I know I don’t have to do this, but I want you to know I can.’
She squeals a confession of helpless pleasure as Richard works his finger deep inside her. He laughs and slaps her desperately wiggling backside again, inspiring an even greater pleasure. Again, she is overwhelmed by a dizzying sensation of sweet feminine submission and she knows she can never ever return to the drab, bleak universe of Adam.
Then the finger is being pulled out, slowly, teasingly, even gently. She gasps with a dreadful, mind-bending pleasure that inspires a grunt of dark satisfaction from Richard.
‘This is only the beginning, my little sissy slut,’ he says, his voice now filled with an aggressive, determined desire.
There is a strange, unsettling pause – a moment of erotic suspension. She can feel the sex electricity crackling in the air around her, feeding on anticipation and frustration. And then suddenly, and with some force, the tip of the dildo is being pushed against the edge of her anus and worked inside. Very quickly she is moaning through the fat, inescapable gag, locked in the grip of a deeply ambivalent pleasure which is always only seconds away from becoming pain.
She squeals and writhes. Richard grips her waist with his free hand and holds her firm as he completes this deeply erotic insertion.
Then there is a sudden give, as if a barrier has been broken, and the dildo appears to be lodged firmly and inescapably inside her. She gasps with shock. She feels filled to bursting point, yet also oddly comfortable. Richard releases his grip and allows her to sit up. As she lowers her buttocks on to the silk sheets of the bed, she feels the dildo press deeper into her and she moans with helpless, electric pleasure. Her tightly restrained cock rears up before her, its pink rubber-sealed head bulging with a vast animal frustration.
Richard helps her off the bed and, in one rough tug, pulls the tape from her mouth and extracts the damp, pungent panties. Then he tells her to undress.
‘Ms March has sent you a special costume for the party.’
He points towards the wardrobe doors. As she adjusts to the constant teasing of the dildo, as she adds its weight to her own being, as she begins to feel the heightened sense of absolute femininity its presence imparts, her eyes fall upon a startling homage to ultra-sissified femininity. Hanging from one of the bronze door handles is a dress, a dress she now realises was delivered by Helen earlier in the day. She sighs with pleasure and steps towards this shockingly fetishistic masterpiece. And as she takes that first dainty step, she feels the plug move inside her, and as it moves it caresses her anus, and the sigh turns into a helpless cry of sex joy, of pure pleasure.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispers, turning to look at Richard with wide, stunned eyes.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the impact. After a while, you’ll come to terms with the fact that to walk is to be teased.’
She nods weakly and turns her attentions back to the wondrous dress.
The dress is made from a hot pink satin. An adult version of a little girl’s party dress, with a very high, button-up and heavily frilled neck. The bodice area is covered in a truly beautiful pattern of carefully embroidered white silk roses, and the wide, ruffled skirt supports an explosion of multi-layered frou-frou petticoating of alternating white and pink. The long sleeves are puffed spectacularly at the shoulders and frilled sleeves, and there is a thick pink ribbon belt around the waist tied at the back in a huge, flowery bow.
Eve stares at the dress in awe, her lips parted into a cherry circle of astonishment and desire.
‘Put it on,’ Richard orders, ‘and the other stuff on the table.’
On the dressing table are a pile of equally dainty and lovely undies: a pair of white nylon tights covered in hundreds of sparkling silver stars, a pair of heavily frilled white silk panties and a white rubber mini-corset. At the foot of the table are a pair of white patent ankle boots with pink silk-ribbon laces and striking six-inch stiletto heels. And then there is the wig: a beautiful concoction of strawberry-blonde ringlet-style curls, a vast homage to the sweet delights of ultra-sissification.
Still divinely tormented by the perverse and constant caress of the dildo, she struggles out of the remaining underwear and soon stands naked before the dress, stunned, elated, stilled by a heart-stopping fascination and an animal craving that seems to have frozen her consciousness in a state of pure arousal.
Richard snaps an impatient ‘Hurry up’, his dark eyes feeding on Eve’s freshly revealed and disturbingly male form. She sees him looking at her cock, at her arse, at her shallow, flat chest, and she sees something else in him: an obvious, but no less surprising homosexuality. She smiles at him and turns to the dressing table. She looks down at the underwear and then asks him why there is no bra or body-shaper – something to give her the illusion of the chest that Samantha’s kinky genius promises.
‘Ms March wants you to look like a little girl, Eve. Not a pretty, busty she-male. In a way, there’s a certain irony here that I’m sure you can appreciate.’
She nods, disappointed in one way, but also darkly amused and aroused in another. After everything she has done, after all the work that has gone into the illusion of Eve and thus made her the prime possession of the Crème de la Crème Elect, the first client wants her to look like nothing else than a pretty boy in petticoats.
She slips into the tights, which are almost unbearably soft, and turn her long legs into sparkling, erotic jewels. Richard’s eyes betray his increasing sexual excitement. Once again the power dynamic is shifting. Now Eve controls the desire. And that means she is – inevitably – in charge. For the time being.
After the tights, she steps into the silk panties, with their hooped layers of thick frills, extremely, excessively feminine. As she pulls them up her freshly hosed legs, she knows she is performing an erotic dance for her master, a teasing inversion of the striptease that is both the creation of an illusion and its destruction. As the thicker, elasticated edge of the panties traverse the rigid outline of her cock, she watches his mouth open slightly and a glaze of helpless need cover his eyes.
After the panties, she takes up the rubber mini-corset. Richard climbs from the bed and walks over.
‘I think you’ll need a hand with this.’
He takes the corset from her and tells her to turn around. As she does so, she feels his hot hands wrap around her narrow waist and his lips brush against her neck. She moans with deep sensual pleasure and falls willingly into his embrace.
Then, trapped in his arms, he carefully slips the corset around her waist. She sighs with delight as he begins to pull the two sides of the corset together, as they press against her lower torso and erotically constrict her waist.
He binds the corset in place and turns her round. She faces him with wide, desire-streaked eyes. He leans down and kisses her, a kiss she accepts with a desperate surrender. Her knees turn to jelly. Her hard, tormented sex presses into his thigh.
‘Take me,’ Eve whispers, ‘please take me.’
His hungry smile widens. ‘Soon, my sissy petal. But not now. We have a very special party to attend, and if you don’t hurry up, we’ll be late.’
She nods, disappointed, but also sure he is right. She sits down on the dressing table stool and feels the plug sink deeper into her arsehole. She moans helplessly and leans forward to put on the striking white boots. Then she is back on her feet, mincing across the room to the dress, the boots inspiring the most feminine of walks via sweet sissy totters and an outrageously erotic wiggling of her pert bottom, a wiggle which captures Richard’s gaze and refuses to let it go.
She takes the dress from the hanger and holds it against her body. Instead of a zipper, it has a line of white pearl buttons that run from the neck down to the edge of the billowing skirt. She slowly releases the buttons and pulls this grand, beauteous creation open. Then she takes a nervous, excited step into the unknown, a step into the dress’s quivering ocean of frou-frou petticoating and a step into a new stage in the story of Eve. She pulls the dress up her sparkling, hosed legs and then over her waist. Eventually, she manages to wiggle the dress up the rest of her body and over her shoulders.
‘Help me,’ she whispers, overcome by the sissy beauty and softness of the dress.
Richard steps forward and buttons up the rear of the dress. The bodice section tightens around her already tightly constricted waist and against her perfectly flat chest. She turns to face him again and his eyes say all there is to know.
Eve wiggles back over to the dressing table and applies a blood-red lipstick to her pale lips. She uses a powder puff to add a touch of colour to her exhaustion-drained cheeks. Then she takes the wig from its stand and carefully slips it over her head. As she pulls it into position, Eve notices that Richard is again fiddling about in the sports bag, but she is more interested in her reflection. So she totters back to the wardrobe and the full-size, built-in mirror.
She stares at the reflection with something approaching genuine elation. Without the carefully constructed and generous bust provided by the body-shaper, there is a strange, yet beautiful androgyny at the heart of Eve, a perfect, clear expression of the swirling ambivalence that has always been at the very core of the true she-male being. I am not whole, she thinks, but I am. In this erotically sissifed state she is pure enfor
ced femininity accepted. She feels the vital narcissistic thrill that the most intense moments of self-observation have brought her. She stares at her round face and her large, sky-blue eyes, at her bloody, perfectly shaped lips, at the aroused blush lighting up her cheeks. A face perfectly framed by the mass of carefully sculpted curls that is the sissy wig. She beholds the intricacy of the dress and its tight grip on her slender, petite form. She feels a wave of helpless sexual excitement consume her as she ponders the beauty of her long, flawlessly formed legs wrapped softy and tightly in the sheer embrace of the sparkling white tights, legs that lead to small, dainty feet bound tightly in the fetishistic and erotically elegant ankle boots.
Then she is aware of Richard standing directly behind her. She turns and, without any warning, he shoves a fat, pink rubber-ball gag deep into her mouth. Her eyes widen with shock, she squeals and tries to escape. He wraps a free arm around her waist and holds her firmly. The ball gag is fitted with a single, elasticated, white rubber strap, which he manages to pull over her heavily wigged head and snap in place. She looks at him with betrayed, angry and terrified eyes. He smiles at her with a heart-stopping cruelness. She feels her sex stretch even harder against the painful restrainer. And before she can do anything else, he has lifted her off her heeled feet and bound her wrists tightly behind her back with a length of pink silk ribbon. Then she is carried over to the bed and thrown on to it.
She releases a series of well-muffled pleas, her panic melodramatic, part of the game he now so obviously wants to play, the game that will let him recover the power that was lost during her dressing. He smiles and shakes his head as she wiggles her hips and kicks her feet.
The Secret Self Page 22