Silken Embrace

by Christina Shelly

  It is then that she very gently, even lovingly, begins to peel the thick strip of white duct tape from Annette’s soft voluptuous lips. Once it is removed, she extracts the pair of white silk panties and Annette gasps with a deep and sensual relief. Christina leans forward and very gently kisses her beautiful transsexual slave on the lips, a kiss that almost immediately transforms into a desperate hungry embrace and the erotic intertwining of mouths and tongues. Christina’s cock presses into Annette’s nylon-sheathed tummy and she cries out her renewed and profound desire.

  They part and a smile of quiet sex madness passes over Christina’s sultry mouth.

  ‘It’s time to give those lips a different form of exercise, my love.’

  Annette nods, knowing exactly what is required. She allows Christina to roll off her splendid, buxom form and fall onto her back. Within seconds, the gorgeous redhead has reversed the geographic order of this particularly sexual encounter and is on top of Christina. They kiss again. Christina’s hands rest on Annette’s large breasts as they strain against their deceptively gentle nylon prison. Annette then begins to slide the baby doll up Christina’s own pneumatic form. Her own superbly designed breasts are slowly revealed and Christina gasps with a supremely aching pleasure as Annette leans forward and begins to smother them in gently sissy kisses.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she gasps. ‘Oh, please.’

  Annette laughs gently. ‘You’re making far too much noise, my pretty daisy. Now it’s your turn to be silenced.’

  Christina’s eyes widen with a simple erotic acceptance: yes, they say, please gag me!

  And Annette obliges, taking the damp panties and quickly shoving them into her willing mouth. She leans across the bed and, from the bedside table drawer, extracts the roll of white duct tape that was used so effectively to silence her. She quickly tears off a long strip and pastes it very firmly over Christina’s mouth. She smiles as the she-male’s eyes widen with a dark and deep masochistic pleasure.

  ‘Now we can get down to business.’

  Annette slides down Christina’s gorgeous form, her soft lips peppering the beautiful she-male’s flawless skin with hundreds of tiny teasing kisses.

  Christina squeals with girlish delight into the gag and her cock arches hungrily upward once again, desperate for a new release. Annette’s nylon-sheathed form brushes against this enraged and starved sex and Christina’s entire body rises up in a new desiring fury.

  Annette presses Christina’s body down and lowers her head over the throbbing purple head of her lover’s stiff cock. She gently licks the head and places a tormenting kiss upon it. Then, in one swift expert movement, she takes Christina’s sex into her mouth, a deft deeply pleasurable swallowing that leaves the older she-male stunned and trapped inside a blinding white light of ecstasy.

  Annette’s precise ministrations have an immediate impact and Christina explodes into her eager mouth within a few seconds. Annette accepts the erupting flow of hot salty spunk with aroused enthusiasm, swallowing every last drop as if it were the golden liquid of life.

  And, eventually, Christina is spent; and now it is Annette’s turn to fall onto her back, to sink into the soft silk sheets, the taste of Christina filling her mouth and spreading over her body and soul like a mist of dark deep desire.

  Then they sleep. For how long? Neither knows. All that Christina does know is that when she awakens, Annette is upon her again, helping her up onto her knees. Then the transsexual beauty is taking up a very obvious and inviting position. She is now on her hands and knees, her bottom presented, ready for the most intimate of invasions. Still erotically gagged, Christina wiggles forward and uses her hands to part Annette’s buttocks. Her cock rises up once again, revived, ready for this latest penetration; a highly trained tool of sissy pleasure.

  Yes, the night stretches ahead and, as Christina slips her cock into Annette’s more than willing behind, she knows they have only just begun.

  7

  Donna and Amelia Blakemore behold Céline with dark vengeful eyes. Céline stands directly before them in the living room of Ms Blakemore’s quarters. She is completely naked and her wrists have been tied tightly behind her back. Over the last twenty minutes she and Sophie have been forced to strip. Céline has then been forced to put a sobbing, begging and rather pathetic Sophie into a black rubber bondage suit. This, plus the two long coffin-like wooden boxes set out on the floor, were the indication of a simple terrifying fact: they were to be shipped out of the country and taken, most probably, to one of Mr Aziz’s African slave processing centres.

  One of the two boxes is now nailed shut. The pathetic desperate mewings of Sophie can still be heard from deep inside, despite the fat black rubber ball gag filling her mouth and the eyeless black rubber hood covering her pretty face. Before she had been forced to fit Sophie into the sleek second-skin rubber body glove, Donna had teased two very substantial vibrators into Céline’s cunt and arse, both covered in the skin irritant she and Sophie had planned to use on the sissies. More of the irritant had been applied to her nipples and then she had been carefully consumed in the inescapable black rubber. And all the time Sophie had been begging, first ungagged and then gagged. She had offered to do anything to avoid her fate and had even turned against Céline. Yes, she had been a terrible coward and her punishment had been to be cocooned and boxed without mercy. By the evening she would be on the way to a future of terrible and utterly perverse white slavery.

  But now there were only the three of them. She looks into Amelia Blakemore’s eyes and knows she is finished. The ample negress points the loaded Glock revolver at her and Céline knows she will use it without hesitation. Céline’s only chance now is to wait for her moment. Probably not now, but during the coming days. At some point there will be an opportunity for escape, an opportunity she would take without a moment’s hesitation. Then, by any means necessary, she would find her way back here to settle all the scores with the bitch Blakemore and her blonde whore.

  ‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asks, a highly rhetorical question.

  Donna laughs bitterly, recognising a hint of fear in Céline’s always calm and confident voice.

  ‘First of all, have a little fun, and then get you boxed up and ready for a little journey.’

  ‘To meet Mr Aziz,’ Ms Blakemore adds.

  Céline nods wearily, already bored by her fate.

  But before she can say anything else, Donna shoves another of the huge black rubber ball gags into her mouth, pushing it roughly and deeply past her full blood-red lips. The gag prises open and fills Céline’s mouth totally. Despite herself, she squeals with shock, fear and discomfort as Donna secures it in place by buckling the two black leather straps very tightly together at the back of her neck.

  ‘Not so sure of ourselves now, are we?’ Donna spits, noticing the first signs of fear in Céline’s lovely coal-black eyes and pushing her towards the bed. ‘It’s easy to dish it out, but, as you’re about to see, it’s not so easy to receive it.’

  With this, she shoves Céline forward onto the bed so that she bellyflops onto the silken-sheeted surface.

  Donna rolls Céline over onto her back. Then there is a strange silence as Donna contemplates the simple erotic perfection of her body. She is without doubt a very beautiful woman. Donna’s look softens. She sits down on the bed next to the increasingly uneasy mistress and runs her hands over this muscled, tanned, yet also silky and flawless form. Donna’s blood-red nails glide across Céline’s firm well-proportioned breasts like scarlet-coloured blades, gently teasing Céline’s helplessly erect nipples before moving onto her neck and then the flushed and bulging cheeks of her very beautiful face.

  ‘I don’t understand how a woman can be so beautiful and so evil at the same time,’ Donna whispers, clearly impressed by Céline’s physique. ‘But that’s because I’m naïve. That’s because I’m weak. But I’m learning, Céline. I’m learning from you.’

  She removes her hand and Ms Blakemore steps forwa
rd. She is carrying two vibrators, the SMC vibrators that are used every day on their hapless sissy slaves, exactly the same as the ones she was forced to insert into Sophie a few minutes before.

  ‘We thought the best way to make you understand the error of your ways, the political mistake you’ve made supporting the Radical cause, was to help you understand what it is like to be a victim of the violence you apply so easily to the she-males. Yes, let’s regard this as a bit of empathy training.’

  Donna slips off the bed and her place is very quickly taken by the stunning buxom Ms Blakemore. It is then that Céline tries to sit up and kick out violently at Donna. Donna avoids Céline’s feet, then rather deftly steps forward and grabs the black beauty’s long legs by the ankles. At the same time, Ms Blakemore leans forward and pushes her back onto the bed. She drops the vibrators and then pulls the gun from a pocket in her crisp erotic white uniform. She slips the gun between Céline’s legs, pressing its cool metal tip against her thickly haired sex.

  ‘Don’t make me pull the trigger, bitch.’

  Céline’s eyes widen with a renewed fear and she stiffens. Donna then pulls her legs apart.

  ‘Time to warm her up,’ the beautiful petite blonde teases.

  Ms Blakemore smiles and nods. She places the gun on the bed between Céline’s legs and then takes up one of the vibrators. With a quick flick of a button set into its base, the device is buzzing, its long curved head a wicked image of helpless pleasure inducement.

  At first, Ms Blakemore uses the vibrator sparingly, teasing the edge of Céline’s sex with an expert attention that soon lights the fire of a helpless arousal. Céline tries to resist, to hold a fixed angry stare directed at the lovely plump negress. But resistance really is quite useless. Céline has always secretly desired Ms Blakemore, despite everything, and soon her stern gaze melts and moans of a reluctant but inescapable pleasure begin to slip past the fat black rubber ball gag.

  As Céline’s arousal becomes more apparent, Ms Blakemore’s smile widens, the gentle maternal smile that has melted so many sissy hearts.

  ‘There, there,’ she whispers, a soft caring ministration hiding a very obvious sexual tease and something else: the potential for sudden remorseless cruelty.

  As Céline falls into the trap of her own desire, her sex moistens and Ms Blakemore begins to work the wickedly buzzing vibrator inside her. Within a few seconds, Céline is squealing with an intense angry helpless pleasure, her eyes filled with a desperate animal pleading. She has surrendered completely to Ms Blakemore’s erotic treatment.

  There is a bag on the bed near to the writhing figure of Céline. This is Ms Blakemore’s ‘dark bag of tricks’, containing the tools of bondage and torture. From inside the bag, Donna extracts a white metal toothpaste tube.

  ‘OK. Turn her over.’

  The vibrator is now lodged completely inside a sex-immobilised Céline, and Ms Blakemore takes her by her broad firm hips and gently turns her onto her stomach with no resistance. She then parts her thighs to provide unhindered access to her back passage.

  Donna hands the tube to Ms Blakemore and takes a pair of white latex medical gloves from the bag. She rather expertly slips these over her hands before taking the tube back from her beautiful buxom coconspirator. She then squirts a line of clear gel out of the tube into her right palm. She dips the index finger of her left hand into the gel so that here is a thick globule of the substance resting on its latex-sheathed tip. Then, with a smile of evil concentration, she leans forward and slips her finger into Céline’s exposed anus.

  Overwhelmed by the sensual ministrations of the vibrator, Céline is – at first – hardly aware of this new intrusion. But as Donna pushes deeper inside, the additional pleasure of anal stimulation becomes unavoidably apparent.

  Ms Blakemore holds Céline by her hips as she wiggles with renewed excitement. Donna then very carefully coats Céline’s anal walls in the gel.

  By the time Donna slips her finger from this darkest, most intimate cave of desire, poor Céline is in a state of complete and utter sexual distress.

  ‘The gel is a powerful skin irritant,’ Donna explains. ‘Something to take your mind off the vibrator in that naughty pussy of yours and the one that’s about to be shoved up your arse.’

  Céline stiffens suddenly, already aware of the strange tingling beginning to creep over the walls of her back passage. Yet before she can fully register the true extent of the gel’s impact, Donna has taken another, thinner, smaller vibrator from the bag and, as Ms Blakemore holds the Gallic beauty in place, begins to slip it inside her twitching arsehole.

  Soon her squeals of pleasure have transformed into renewed well-muffled moans of outrage. As Donna forces the vibrator inside Céline’s arse right up to its flat plastic hilt, she flicks on a small switch built into its base and it too begins to buzz angrily.

  Now they have to act quickly. As Céline begins to struggle with the collision of the real powerful pleasure induced by the vibrators and the increasing irritation spreading through her anal passage, an irritation now beginning to express itself as a painful burning sensation, Donna extracts more lengths of rubber-coated cording from the sports bag. As Ms Blakemore continues to restrain the wiggling moaning Céline, Donna sets to work tightly binding her long, statuesque legs at the ankles, knees and lower thighs with the cording. This has the effect not only of securing her legs, but also of pressing the two vibrators tightly into place. Céline’s arms are then further secured with more cording at the elbows and just below the shoulders, a painful and deeply restrictive binding that leaves the beautiful ample mistress almost completely immobilised.

  And this is only the beginning of her sufferings for, once she is bound, Donna produces a glossy black rubber body glove from the bag. It is exactly the same as the one Céline had been forced to imprison Sophie within.

  Céline, her eyes now wide with pained pleading and a desperate, utterly irresistible desire, looks at the bag. She squeals into the gag and shakes her head furiously, no longer indifferent to her suffering. Donna laughs, aroused by her captive’s much-deserved fear and pain, and Ms Blakemore grips Céline’s calves, holding them still so that Donna can begin to edge the glove over her feet and up her perfect silky smooth golden-brown well-muscled legs.

  Soon, the glove has reached her knees, a single sheath of thin yet highly durable and strong rubber which increasingly seals her body in a tight and utterly relentless grip. Then it reaches her upper thighs, her lower stomach and is being pulled up over her firm but still generous bosom.

  And, eventually, it is pulled up around her neck, snapped cruelly and simply in place, leaving her gorgeous form completely enveloped in soft, always teasing and completely inescapable rubber.

  Céline stares down at her cocooned form in true horror. Yet when Donna produces a matching eyeless hood, a new level of pure terror fills her lovely ice-blue eyes.

  ‘The vibrators have special long-life batteries that are used for industrial application. Running constantly, they should last for at least 72 hours. This should be enough time to cover your journey to the Sudan.’

  Céline’s eyes widen and she squeals into the gag, once again shaking her head violently, horrified not just by her bondage, but by the fact that she is to be shipped to the notorious Sudanese slave market of Mr Aziz. From here, she knows, escape will be virtually impossible.

  Donna then extracts the final item of kinky envelopment: an eyeless black rubber hood that exactly matches the glove in texture and colour.

  Without another word, she leans across the prone stunned form of Céline and begins to stretch the hood over her head.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she teases, ‘there are a nest of micro-filters around the nose area that will allow you to breathe.’

  There is a pathetic, desperate and strangely erotic pleading in Céline’s eyes just before they are covered by the hood. Donna, her own eyes lit with sadistic vengeful glee, pulls the hood down over Céline’s face and then her neck. The
hood is then sealed to the upper rim of the body glove via unseen adhesive fastenings.

  And what is left? A beautifully formed rubber sex snake, a creature of pure erotic being. A tightly bound, gagged and cocooned damsel in a particularly kinky form of distress.

  Donna and Ms Blakemore stand back to admire their devilish handiwork. Their eyes betray a fundamental and deeply sadistic arousal. As poor Céline wiggles and writhes, as slight kittenish moans of torment escape the silencing hood, the two captors experience a profoundly joint sense of justice and a much deeper darker sense of sexual pleasure.

  They carry her writhing form to the empty wooden box and place it inside, using leather straps fixed to the walls to secure her tightly and inescapably in place. Then the lid is secured and they regard the two plain white wooden boxes with sadistic satisfaction.

  ‘A job well done,’ Ms Blakemore says.

  ‘Very well done,’ Donna agrees, her arousal fierce, her joy obvious.

  ‘Aziz’s men will be here at midnight.’

  ‘That leaves us plenty of time to . . . relax.’

  Ms Blakemore smiles at Donna’s deeply suggestive words, her eyes filled with sexual promise. ‘I suggest we retire to my room. I tied Helen up before I came out and she’s probably quite desperate for a bit of company by now.’

  Part Three

  8

  By the end of my third day in Ms Gillette’s elaborate and perverse nursery, I have begun to understand the true nature of ultimate submission. Within the pretty pink confines of the large room, I have lost the last vestiges of control over my identity. Smothered in the most outrageous of babified frillies, tightly dummy gagged, most of the time kept in some form of immobilising bondage, my cock sheathed and tightly ringed, my arse plugged with the buzzing and ingenious anal vibrator, I have very quickly lost all sense of time and place. Indeed, by the end of the first 24 hours, it is as if my mind – the last essential part of any true consistent personality – is beginning to melt. And this, of course, is a quite deliberate effect of the torment I am being so cruelly and systematically exposed to.