Christina whispers a submissive ‘Yes, Mistress. Anything for you.’
Helen smiles and there is a moment of strange, almost reflective silence, a moment during which Christina finds herself looking at the other mistresses, especially at the plump exquisite frame of the amazing Ms Blakemore, her ample proportions sealed tightly in a white nurse’s uniform, matching hose and relatively low-heeled leather pumps, the white providing a strikingly contrasting means of emphasising her gorgeous brown-skinned face and huge honey-brown eyes, together with her thick gleaming frame of silken black hair.
Then her eyes turn to Mistresses Céline and Sophie. Céline is another striking negress, but with very short cropped hair and an athlete’s highly trained and precise figure; the multimillionaire businesswoman whose own international fashion house is behind the secret distribution of Senso; a cruel and very beautiful woman whose dark sadistic imagination Christina has sampled on more than one occasion. And then there is her lover, Sophie, the leader of the French Radicals, a notorious feminist philosopher; a vicious but utterly gorgeous lesbian intellectual with long black hair tied in a tight, almost painful bun by a thick red ribbon band, her eyes a cold, emotionless and icy blue, her thin lips stained with dark cherry lipstick. Both she and Mistress Céline are wearing trouser suits, carefully cut to show off their perfect forms, both made of expensive Italian silk. Céline’s is red and Sophie’s white. With the addition of high-heeled patent leather colour-coded boots, the two women resemble members of some harsh unforgiving lesbian army.
‘Annette is in your quarters,’ Mistress Helen says. ‘Go to her now.’
Christina curtsies, takes one more look at the stunning women and wiggle minces sweetly from the room, her dancing bottom a visual feast that none of them can resist.
As the door closes, Helen turns to Ms Blakemore. ‘I want all the fully trained sissies operated on as quickly as possible. By the end of the week.’
Ms Blakemore’s eyes betray surprise and shock, but she nods her acceptance of this final terrible command.
Christina rushes back across the entrance foyer to the lifts that will take her into the bowels of the house and the heart of the SMC training academy, the underground chambers that have been carved out of a series of tunnels built at the end of the Civil War. As she descends, she ponders the shocking news of the Moderate rebellion and the intensification of the TSC programme. She is all too aware what this will mean, both for her and all the other sissies of the SMC; but she will accept any order from Mistress Helen and her gorgeous all-powerful colleagues, even the removal of the final physical symbol of masculinity. Indeed, in some deep dark corner of her masochistic mind, the idea of TSC is strangely exciting.
She discovers Annette on the large oval bed that they have shared for the past two years. She has been sealed in a Senso pink rubber body glove and positioned on her back. She looks like a rubber snake girl, apparently armless, her legs held prisoner in one single ultra-sheath of slender but very powerful rubber. A pink very sheer nylon hood has been stretched over her head and through the nylon Christina can see that her mouth has been packed with a fat panty gag and then sealed shut with a thick strip of white duct tape.
The elaborateness of her bondage points to only one person: Mistress Helen, a woman who takes a particular and very powerful pleasure in turning her sissy slaves into bizarre bondage sculptures.
As soon as she sees Christina, Annette begins to squeal angrily and desperately. Her beautiful emerald eyes widen and bulge, her helplessly sexy wiggles increase. A cascade of ‘mmmmmmmpppphhhhs!’ fills the room. Yet, despite her deep love for Annette, a love that has been tested on more than one occasion by her close association with Mistress Anne and the she-male’s apparent adoption of many of Anne’s less attractive character traits, Christina makes no move to free her from this teasing, perverse bondage. Instead, she drinks up the hyper-erotic spectacle of Annette’s torment. She moves towards the bed, her eyes slowly crawling over the cocooned perfection of Annette’s form, her tightly restrained and now threatened sex stretching desperately against the walls of its fiendish rubber prison. She places a hand on Annette’s rubber-sealed toes and then begins to run a blood-red index fingernail along the smooth sado-erotic contour of her carefully packaged legs, walking further along the edge of the bed as she does so. Annette’s squeals of despair and anger lessen, and her nylon-covered eyes follow Christina’s progress with fear and desire.
‘You look perfectly gorgeous, my love,’ Christina whispers, her high carefully manufactured little girl’s voice another surgical gift of the Bigger Picture and the dark genius of Ms Blakemore.
Annette’s eyes widen even further, confusion replacing fear and anger.
‘When Mistress Helen told me about your awful fate . . . well, at first I was so terribly upset. But then I thought about all the opportunities your transformation offered me . . . offered us. And now I have you before me, all to myself.’
By this point her hand has reached the space where, before, Annette’s large rather beautiful cock would have been pressed desperately against the film of strong rubber. But now there is only a perfectly flat curve, a feminine space that Christina teases with her finger. Then Annette begins to squeal again, much louder, more desperately. She tries to sit up. But her bondage makes any kind of significant movement impossible. There is a look of wild angry sexual arousal in her eyes and Christina presses against the telling space a little harder.
‘Ms Blakemore once told me that she had designed a special sissy sex for TSC cases. She felt it was the least she could do for the poor victims of such a terminal punishment. An ultra-sensitive vaginal orifice that would allow extremely powerful, if somewhat unusual orgasms, and would be particularly receptive to all forms of stimulation.’
Annette seems in shock now; her fear gone, replaced with pure sex trauma.
‘I don’t think you’ve had a chance to experience the potential of your new pussy, judging by your reaction. And this is only the beginning, my love.’
Tears of sexual agony begin to leak from Annette’s beautiful green eyes and through the slender film of nylon, creating sex crystals that sparkle in the powerful white electric light.
Christina releases her erotic grip and gently helps Annette to sit up.
‘You’ve been punished unfairly, perhaps,’ Christina whispers. ‘But now you must move on, and so must I. You know I love you, Annette. You know I have always loved you.’
Annette nods weakly, her eyes now filled with a mixture of intense sexual arousal and helpless adoration.
‘Mistress Helen has given you to me, to be my lover and plaything. The potential for ecstasy is considerable. It will be like when we first met. But only many times better.’
As Annette moans her need, Christina gently unrolls the stocking hood, revealing the gorgeous redhead’s hot pink face and the very thick and broad strip of duct tape that is so effectively and sensually sealing her lips tightly shut.
‘How lucky you are, my pretty sex pet – to have Mistress Helen’s panties filling your mouth. Do they taste nice?’
Annette nods weakly, her eyes now pinned on Christina’s large perfectly formed breasts as they strain sensually against the glistening tight material of the pinafore.
‘And this lovely body glove. Another of Mistress Helen’s wonderful touches. It really does do justice to your gorgeous boobs.’
Christina gently runs her free hand over Annette’s straining rubber-encased bosom. The redhead squeals with a furious delight and bucks helplessly. Then Christina places a long hard kiss on the tape gag, directly over Annette’s sealed lips. The redhead’s emerald eyes widen with shock, joy and angry need. Christina then steps back and admires the lipstick imprint on the gag before carefully easing the rubber body glove down over Annette’s slender girlish shoulders. Annette nods her head eagerly. Yes, she is saying, yes please! Christina hardly takes her beautiful brown eyes away from Annette’s own sparkling green orbs of bottomless sis
sy need as she eases the Senso rubber glove over Annette’s large ultra-sensitive breasts. The perfection of Ms Blakemore’s erotic art is revealed in every soft curve of these two very beautiful boobs. Christina, as she has done on so many occasions before, leans forward and places a gentle kiss on each, running her tongue over each long hard nipple as she does so. Annette wiggles and squeals, crying into the pungent mouth-filling panty gag with a savage dark and endless fury whose molten core is animal sex.
Then Christina slides the glove down over Annette’s slender surprisingly muscular waist and the first sign of the changing becomes apparent. For at the base of her stomach is a small light line, an already barely visible scar. Annette’s gasps and wiggles stop. It is as if her desire has been frozen by an icy cloud of horrible undeniable truth.
Christina smiles reassuringly. ‘This is where we get to find out how lucky you are, my love.’
Then, in one hard tug, Christina pulls the body glove down over Annette’s hips and thighs and immediately reveals the redhead’s new sex.
The two she-males stare at this final act of feminisation with wide, expectant and anxious eyes.
Christina had anticipated more marking than the very slight scar on Annette’s lower stomach. Yet, amazingly, there is hardly any other evidence of the recent major operation. Instead, the two gorgeous she-males find themselves looking at a near-perfect vagina, silky smooth and strikingly realistic.
Annette sobs with shock and regret into her gag and stares longingly at the lovely, buxom and clearly very aroused Christina. Christina very slowly places a hand over the dark pink slit. Annette moans with an immediate sexual excitement into the fat panty gag. Her eyes widen and plead with Christina.
‘Incredible,’ Christina whispers, now tracing the straight line of the slit with her index finger and inducing much louder squeals of helpless angry pleasure in her gorgeous she-male companion, knowing as she does so that, thanks to Mistress Helen’s latest command, she too will soon be similarly endowed. Paradoxically, the thought of such a changing causes her threatened sex to strain even harder against its layers of sensually inescapable restraint.
Then, for the first time, Christina notices something on the bed next to Annette, something that causes her eyebrows to rise in amused surprise.
‘Now you will come to realise what a wonderful gift this new sex is, my sweet,’ she whispers, leaning over Annette and picking up the strange erotic device that has been placed next to the lovely tethered sissy.
She holds up what at first looks like a pink leather belt. Then its true function becomes shockingly apparent; for built into the centre of the thick length of leather that runs from one side of the belt to the other is a long, wide and ribbed dildo. Annette moans with genuine fear and also dreadful sexual anticipation into her tight fat gag. Christina knows she is still fitted with the standard sissy anal vibrator; and once the belt is fitted, she will be amply stuffed in both orifices! And this is, of course, all part of Helen’s dark plan for the lovely she-male.
By the belt there is a large jar of clear lubricating gel. Christina rests the belt back on the bed and then carefully eases the body glove down over Annette’s long, perfectly shaped legs and over her cute girlish feet with their gleaming painted toenails.
She notices that Annette’s ankles have been bound together with pink rubber cording and then, for the first time, realises that her wrists have been secured in a similar fashion behind her back at the wrists and elbows. Thus, she is utterly unable to resist what happens next: Christina scoops up a large globule of the gel and uses it to lubricate Annette’s new sex, to prepare it for the erotic intrusion of the phallic belt.
Immediately, the poor ultra-transformed she-male is hurled into an abyss of unbearable pleasure. The true erotic potential of the sensitivity of her sex is made almost astonishingly apparent by Christina’s deliberate caress, her finger slipping deep inside and teasing out a wet moist warmth. Annette bucks and squeals furiously, her eyes tightly closed, her head shaking angrily. This is too much, even for a sex-drenched graduate of the Sissy Maids Academy! Her large breasts bounce wildly, her wrists fight the unyielding rubber cording. She is falling helplessly into an abyss whose essence is the dark unclear space between agony and ecstasy. And this is only the beginning.
Annette’s eyes pop open as soon as she feels the cool tip of the dildo press against her moistening and carefully widening sex. She looks down between the U of her ample boobs and understands immediately what is happening. She shakes her head angrily, clearly terrified by the size of the proposed intruder.
‘Don’t worry, my sweet, it won’t hurt a bit. Indeed, just the opposite – crystal pure pleasure of the highest order is guaranteed, thanks to the kinky genius of Ms Blakemore.’
As the dildo begins its journey into the depth of Annette’s sex, the poor she-male seems to freeze as if dead, a sudden violent stiffening that initially concerns Christina. She hesitates. But then she sees the slight nod of Annette’s head and continues, knowing now that poor Annette is experiencing a pleasure so furious, so intense, so profound, that she has lost the ability to express its true devastating power.
Then it is pushed fully home, and Christina secures the belt in place, pulling its lower strap between the poor sex-incensed sissy’s legs and securing it by pulling it tightly between her pert, always so spankable buttocks and clipping it to the back of the tight thick waist band.
Once her kinky work is done, Christina steps back to admire the elegant beauty of the gorgeous redheaded she-male and also to wallow in the pleasure of her ‘melting’ – the gentle move from the shocked rigidity of the initial insertion, to a gradual relaxation and entry into a realm of pure, immediate and truly powerful sexual pleasure.
Soon, rather than squealing and wriggling, she is lost in a complex sex ballet, a beautiful strangely solemn writhing. Christina watches this performance with an increasing sense of arousal. She has an immediate and terrible need to join Annette. Then the thought enters her head: the thought of taking her restrained sex and using it to penetrate Annette, to have the most bizarre form of heterosexual sex imaginable!
But then the door to the room opens and Mistresses Céline and Sophie enter, followed by the beautiful, buxom and very tightly secured Pansy.
Christina, surprised by this sudden arrival, curtsies deeply.
‘Excellent!’ Mistress Céline cries. ‘You’ve secured the belt and made our lovely princess fully aware of the advantages of her radical transformation.’
Christina whispers ‘Yes, mistress. I think she likes it.’
Sophie laughs cruelly. ‘Yes, of course. As will you all!’
Pansy gives Christina a look of concern and helpless sexual excitement. Christina returns her gaze with one of intense sex hunger laced with fear. This is because poor Pansy has been placed in tight and obviously very uncomfortable bondage. Her arms have been lashed painfully behind her back with pink rubber cording at the wrists and, very cruelly, below and above her elbows. Her slender ankles have been fitted with pink rubber shackles secured together by a small length of thin silver chain. A very fat pink rubber ball gag fills her pretty girlish mouth and her cheeks seem stretched to bursting point. Her eyes are watering with the strain of the gag combined with the pressure on her arms and the desperate precarious totter that the hobble demands. And to make things even worse, a thick pink leather collar has been attached to the high neck of her dress, fixed to which is a chain leash held by Mistress Céline, who is dragging the poor sissy forward as if she was a particularly pretty pet poodle!
As usual, Pansy is very finely and erotically attired. She is dressed in a bright pink maid’s dress of very fine shimmering satin that appears painted to her ample, sex bomb figure. The dress has the required heavily be-frilled high neck (mainly hidden by the collar) and is very short. The skirt, barely reaching the tops of her thighs, rests on thick pink and white frou-frou petticoating that rises up at a very severe panty-revealing angle. Indeed, her fri
ll-laden white silk panties are virtually on full display, and her legs are revealed in all their statuesque glory right from the edge of the panties all the way down to the shackles and white silk-lined leather ankle boots with eye-popping six-inch-high heels. Her hair had been dyed a soft strawberry blonde and bound in a tight bun with a pink silk ribbon. Over the dress she wears a very tight white silk pinafore bound in place at the base of her spine with a huge bow. In addition, she is wearing beautiful white lace gloves. She looks utterly stunning and highly distressed!
‘It seems so unfair on poor Pansy that you should be having all the fun,’ Sophie says, her voice heavy with cruel irony.
Christina instinctively flinches as Mistress Céline draws to a halt a few inches from her and then runs a bloody-nailed index finger across her silken pale cheek.
‘You look more beautiful each time we meet,’ she whispers, her eyes filled with sadistic arousal, her voice framed by a sheer inescapable threat. ‘And beauty like yours is always heightened by suffering.’
The senior maid realises that she is trapped and can do nothing to escape. She has indeed suffered at Céline’s hands on more than one occasion, and knows she will suffer again now.
‘Blakemore and Donna can do nothing to help you now, my sweet. They are helpless now that that fool Jane has acted so impetuously. Ashcroft has fled and Eleanor Groves has quietly disappeared back to America with her arrogant swine of a lover. The Radicals have control, of the Bigger Picture and you. If the Moderate sympathisers seek to resist, they will also be meeting Mr Aziz.’
The light burning in Mistress Céline’s jet-black eyes is the dark orange of casual evil. Christina feels her heart thump wildly and her knees buckle. She is terrified, yet her erection is stronger than ever!
‘If you think Blakemore will be coming to your rescue, you’re mistaken,’ Sophie adds. ‘She is already making preparations for your final terrible transformation. By the end of the week, you and Pansy will have reached the same point of no return that Annette is now so beautifully experiencing.’
Silken Embrace Page 5