by Audra Black
Once this was done, Mistress Lita was completely naked, just like Greg. His cock deeply approved of their mutual nudity as it grew harder and harder with each passing moment.
“I will not have you ejaculating while you bathe me,” Mistress Lita said. “That is completely inappropriate for a slave toy, and she grabbed hold of his balls and twisted them sharply, digging her fingernails into them, and making him scream like a woman in labor. The pain was so excruciating and intense and went on for so long that he actually blacked out.
When he came to, he was lying in the shower, cold water streaming down into his face and through the fountain of water he looked down and spied a silver ring around his cock.
Mistress Lita shut the water off and allowed Greg to examine the curious contraption more closely. It was heavier than it looked and there was an additional ring imprisoning his testicles, with a tiny padlock securing the deal and keeping it all locked tight. Greg looked up at Mistress Lita in wonder.
“That is a chastity cage. It will prevent you from cumming without my permission. It will make both of our lives easier, while we are here. Say thank you, Mistress, for the gift.”
Greg didn’t feel at all thankful for Mistress Lita’s gift. The rings were uncomfortable, tight, and awkward. Yet as long as they came off once their session was done, he decided he could live with them. “Thank you, Mistress for the gift,” he said, though rather stiffly.
“You’re Welcome. Now don’t just lie there like a rag doll. Stand up and begin to bathe me with your tongue. I want that tongue of yours to clean up every inch of me, inside and out. Your chastity rings will ensure that no one gets pleasure from this activity except for me, as is right and proper.”
Greg roused himself and stood uncertainly. Should he start with her forehead, with the top of her head? He decided to focus on the skin and began licking her forehead in long wet lines. He fretted her eyebrows a bit to get a small piece of cum or smudged eye shadow, or something, he wasn’t sure what it was. But he removed it, then licked the space between her eyes and even down the bridge of her nose. He thoroughly licked both her cheeks, then her chin and ears and neck.
When it was time to lick her lips, Mistress Lita meshed her own lips into his and kissed him, deeply, almost longingly. It confused the hell out of poor Greg and caused his entire genital area to erupt into flames. At least that was how it felt to Greg.
Mistress Lita pulled away from him and smirked, “remember, slut-toy. My pleasure must always result in your pain. You don’t realize it yet, but you were placed on this earth to serve me. Just as was Gordon Graham. He thought he called the shots. He thought he could get away from me, but he was wrong. That is the second lesson you must learn, today. Don’t respond. Continue on with your bathing.”
Greg was speechless, anyway, and a hard knot was tying itself in his stomach. What had he gotten himself into here? It had all begun innocently enough, he though as he obediently began licking his mistress’s neck.
Although, from the first moment she had indeed taken control. With her monetary demands he had already become her financial slave. As he moved down to tongue-bathe her shoulders, he had the sudden worry that he was never going to be allowed to go home.
Mistress Lita turned around to give Greg easy access to her backside. He began licking her back, starting from the top and sliding down in long wet swipes. His crotch was burning less, but his tongue was really starting to cramp up. Yet there was still so much goddess to worship. And she was a goddess, Greg told himself as he continued licking her body.
If Mistress Lita was a goddess, then her body was a temple, and being allowed to touch it with any part of himself was truly an honor. He knew this, he felt it in his burning cock and balls as he began licking her beautiful, pert, shapely, delicious ass. That ass had sat on his face once and he recalled the delight and discomfort of the memory.
That was how everything was with Mistress Lita. There could never simply be pleasure or simply be pain, the two must always coexist together. That’s just how it was, Greg decided, when you were chosen by the divine. GAWD, that hurt, Greg’s mind shouted as he licked and loved the inside of Mistress Lita’s ass crack.
The rings, apparently didn’t prevent him from getting aroused, just from getting any satisfaction out of that state. Plus, mind-numbing pain for his trouble. Greg knew licking her front side and breasts could only mean even more excruciating pain, so he took his time, angling to get every inch of her breastbone, and every centimeter of her boobs, almost nibbling on her hard, erect nipples.
The pain subsided somewhat as he moved down to her long legs, ankles and feet. He had no objections to this part of her body, but after having spent time between her areolas everything else felt anti-climatic.
“That’s all for now, slut-toy,” Mistress Lita decided. “I shall wash myself, go kneel over there in the corner and bring me my towel when I call for it.”
Greg, grateful for a break, crawled out of the shower and knelt in the corner she had pointed to. He couldn’t see his mistress from that vantage point, but he could hear the sound of the water running and her occasional moans of pleasure. She hadn’t moaned once during his ministrations, which worried him somewhat. Was Mistress Lita growing bored with him, already? Did he do a bad job? His tongue was almost swollen now from the mad overuse of the last few hours. Greg vowed to try harder to please his goddess.
Mistress Emmeline and Graham the Doll
Meanwhile, down in the living room, Mistress Emmeline was having quite a bit of fun with her new dolly.
“You have very feminine features, anyone ever tell you that?” Mistress Emmeline asked Graham.
“No, Mistress,” he said nervously. He didn’t know Emmeline at all, but he could already tell she was different from Mistress Lita.
“Well, you have,” Mistress Emmeline said firmly. “With the right outfit and a bit of makeup you would look just like this doll I have sitting on my bed at home.” Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “would you like me to turn you into a doll, Graham Gordon?”
“No, Mistress,” he begged. As much of a coward and a wuss as he was, Graham was still a man, and the thought of being transformed into a woman horrified him.
“Well, too bad, because that is what I am going to do to you. Strip off your clothes and I’ll strip off mine. We are going to switch outfits.”
Graham wanted to protest but knew doing so would be futile. So he complied. He tore off his tie and his suit coat and collared shirt. Then he pulled down his pants and his boxers and lastly, his socks and shoes.
Mistress Emmeline unbuttoned her skimpy maids outfit and causally removed it all with one quick gesture of her hand. She wore nothing underneath. She had tiny, flower bud breasts, but still Graham couldn’t help gasping in admiration at the total package. Mistress Emmeline was a perfectly proportioned elfin beauty.
“The first thing we need to do with you is give you boobies,” Mistress Emmeline said, and I happen to have a pair of gel ones in my apron. She picked up her maids uniform from off the floor where she had carelessly flung it and rummaged around in large white pockets until she retrieved two flat looking gel packs.
“These work a bit like magic, but luckily, I trained as a magician’s apprentice before going to work for Mistress Lita.” And she took those gel packs and she pressed them firmly onto Graham’s chest. They were cold and he shivered, but they weren’t too scary yet. He wondered how Mistress Emmeline would inflate them. They felt smooth to his touch, no buttons or pulleys or air holes to inflate them.
Mistress Emmeline stepped back and smiled. She said, “A bra cad a bra, a bra ca rest, change that gel into breasts.” Then she clapped her hands together three times and Graham screamed like a woman.
He screamed and he screamed and he screamed because when he looked down at his chest he could see and he could feel real, live boobies. And she’d made him a D cup, at least. Graham closed his eyes and tried to tell himself he was dreaming. There was no way any dom
inatrix could change his manly, hairy chest into the smooth, heavy, cleavage-filled chest that he had now. There was just no way!
Yet when he opened his eyes and looked down again there they were in all their glory. Thankfully, his cock was still there, looking so wrong hanging below his buxom breasts.
Graham screamed again. “Please, tell me these aren’t permanent? You won’t leave me like this, will you?”
“I don’t see why you’re so upset. I think you look gorgeous. I would kill for perfect breasts like yours. Mistress Lita might even be jealous, yours are so scrumptious.”
“But I’m not a woman. I’m a man. I’m a man,” Graham cried.
Mistress Lita cocked her head quizzically. “Are you sure about that, Gretchen? I don’t think a man could have beautiful knockers like yours.” Then she laughed and said, “Gretchen will be your new name from now on. It fits your new status perfectly.”
“What will my wife say?” Gretchen asked. “His wife was extremely closed-minded on her best days, so there was no way she would ever accept his new body.”
“Put on the maids outfit, Gretchen. You might have to stretch it a bit to get it over your chest, but I sewed it myself out of material that is guaranteed not to break.”
Gretchen sulked. He didn’t want to wear that skimpy, white maid’s uniform. He wanted to put his suit back and on so that he could try and hide what had been done to him. He wanted to lessen the impact of this life-altering transformation, not make it worse.
Suddenly, he gasped, as Mistress Emmeline smacked his cock with the edge of her black boot. “Do as I say or I will cut off your cock and balls, too.”
Without delay, Graham tugged the maids outfit from Mistress Emmeline’s arms and pulled it on over his head. It was tight and he had to do quite a bit of tugging to get it to go down over his cleavage. Once it was down all the way, his breasts tumbled out of the outfit like there wasn’t anything holding them in place at all.
The worst part was that the skirt was so short that his penis hung below it, an unseemly, gangling sight.
Mistress Emmeline stared down at him critically. “You will need to wear a special pair of panties to hide that cock of yours,” then she approached him and pulled out a large pair of white panties with a long sheath sewn into the inside.
“Put these on and slide your dick into that dick holder. That will hold it in place and prevent it from peeping out and giving everyone a shock.”
Gretchen was suspicious at how prepared Mistress Emmeline was to turn him into a female. Nevertheless, he obeyed. The sheath was a snug fit, but not nearly as uncomfortable as a chastity device could be. Once they were on, his skirt just barely covered his panties, but surprisingly there was no bulge and he somehow felt better when looking down.
“Next, we need to do something about those hairy legs of yours. Luckily, I’ve got just the thing,” and then she reached back into his apron pocket and pulled out what looked like a box of band aids. “I will stick two of these onto both your legs, let them work for a bit, and then when I remove them all your hair will go with them.”
Gretchen thought this sounded painful, but honestly, now that he thought about it. His legs would look a lot prettier without hair covering them. He hadn’t wanted to become a woman, but since he already was becoming one, he might as well go all the way.
While the hair removal stickies were doing their job, Mistress Emmeline had him sit down on a stool in the kitchen while she began applying makeup to him. Bright red lipstick, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, blush. She was serious about it like Gretchen’s wife always seemed to be when she applied her own makeup.
Lydia wasn’t due home until tomorrow, the same day as the housekeeper, cook, and gardener. Would Mistress Lita and Mistress Emmeline still be there when Lydia and the servants came home? How would Lydia react? Would she blame him for everything? Call him a filthy pervert and leave him? Was part of him hoping that she would?
The only true downside he could see was the news media hearing what happened and spreading the news far and wide about the kinky senator who cheated on his wife and liked to dress as a woman. It would demolish his entire political career.
Gretchen knew he should be much more concerned about this, angry, furious even. Yet while there was a part of him that certainly did care and that was currently raging and cursing over his predicament. There was another part that couldn’t wait for Mistress Emmeline to hand him the mirror to see what he looked like. Would he be beautiful? Would he feel like a real woman or like a man all dressed up? Never in a million years would Gretchen have chosen to do something like this to himself, but now that it had been forced upon him, he felt an odd, delicious thrill over doing something so wrong and taboo.
“You’re almost done, Gretchen. But first, we need to do something about your hair.” Mistress Emmeline said. Then she put her hands on her head and tugged. Gretchen stared in shock as Mistress Emmeline’s beautiful blond locks pulled off of her head. Mistress Emmeline had been wearing a wig this entire time?
Mistress Emmeline placed the wig onto Gretchen’s head and pressed and patted it into place. It held amazingly well and as Gretchen plied his fingers through his new blond locks, they felt totally real.
“I have several different wigs at home, all made from human hair,” Mistress Emmeline explained. Then she went over to the pantry and withdrew a long, curly, red-haired wig and a black leather skinsuit, which looked exactly like Mistress Lita’s. “Lita said she packed a few things for me, in here, in case I needed them. That woman is spooky. It’s like she knew exactly what I was going to do to you even before I did.”
Mistress Emmeline changed into her new dominatrix outfit, and adorned her head with her new red curls. “There, now, let’s attend to your legs.” She crouched down and tore the sticky strips from Gretchen’s legs.
“Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeoooo,” he screamed, as all four were torn off at once. The pain lingered for a few minutes, yet as he squinted through it to peer down at his new hairless legs he couldn’t help feeling pleased. They looked much better now. He couldn’t believe how smooth they felt as he ran his hands down his legs. He didn’t feel like he was touching his legs, but the legs of a beautiful woman he had just met.
Mistress Emmeline helped Gretchen off his stool, then led him towards the mirror in the corridor between the kitchen and living room. He gasped when he saw his face reflected back at him. He wasn’t himself, anymore. He was a woman with gorgeous deep blue eyes and luxurious blond hair. He was so fucking hot he would gladly ask himself out on a date. The transformation was incredible. He couldn’t stop touching himself, or running his hands through his hair or cupping his boobs. Looking in the mirror it was just so unbelievable that it was him.
“What happens now, Mistress?” Gretchen asked, wondering if this transformation was truly permanent or simply for the weekend.
“That is entirely up to you, Gretchen. I think you look absolutely stunning as a woman and with your submissive proclivities I would imagine you would be much happier living life as a woman. But I don’t believe Mistress Lita would allow me to force you to remain as a woman forever if you don’t want to.”
Gretchen sighed. He didn’t know what he wanted to do and he was disappointed that such an important decision was being left up to him. Then he heard a noise behind him. It sounded like the turning of a key in the lock.
“Oh my gawd,” Gretchen cried, “Lydia is home now.”
... to be continued in Book 4
Submitting to His New Dominatrix Wife
Femdom Pain Club
Book 4
Audra Black
Mrs. Lydia Graham walked in the front door of her large, spacious, country manor house, and spied two strange women standing in her corridor, admiring themselves in the full length mirror. One was petite, with long, curly red hair and dressed in a skintight, black leather catsuit. The other was a short woman, with extra large boobies, dressed in a skimpy white maid’s outfit, with a full head of b
lond sunshine and ocean blue eyes.
Eyes the same color as her husband, Gordon.
Old blue eyes turned to look at Lydia, terror etched on her china doll face.
“Lydia, it’s me,” she whispered.
The voice was high pitched and unfamiliar to Lydia.
“I have no idea who you are or what you’re doing in my house. Did Gordon let you in? That bastard has really done it, this time. I am finally through with his lying, cheating ways. I’m done. I tell you!”
“I am Gordon,” spoke the blond bombshell. “Mistress Emmeline transformed me. But she says it’s not permanent if I don’t want it to be.”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but my husband does not look or sound anything like you. You’re gorgeous, and he’s a slob of barely masculine attributes.”
Lydia had no idea what the words she’d uttered, meant. But they felt mean, so she didn’t bother to explain them. She was so angry and disgusted with her husband, right then. How dare he invite hookers into her home when she wasn’t there.
He never had respected her, but to flaunt his perverted predilections in front of her face like this, was really taking the piss. And she would not stand for it any longer.
“Where is my husband?” She demanded. “I need to find him so I can kick him out of my house. None of you are welcome here, any longer.”
“Your husband is standing right in front of you, dear,” a strong new voice said.
Lydia looked behind her to see another tall, red-headed woman, in a skin tight, black leather dominatrix outfit. Every curve of her body was accentuated by the tightness of her suit. It looked so natural on her, it could have been her skin. This woman was dominance personified. She was regal and strong, and quite frankly, breathtaking.