Slowly, even teasingly, the intruder unbuttoned the panel that gave access to Sandra's greatest secret. But if, as seemed to be the case, this man knew all about Sandra's true identity, then what lay in store for her was no secret. This made her arousal all the more…interesting.
He finally pulled back the panel and almost immediately, from the layers of soft padding, Sandra's rock hard sex popped out, a large, one eyed sex snake whose clear excitement was a terrible confession of Sandra's now ambiguous feelings about her ordeal.
His eyes widened and a small, harsh laugh escaped the mask.
'Very impressive,' he whispered.
Utterly exposed and helpless, poor Sandra could only watch as the intruder then produced a small black sports bag. He placed it on the bed and from inside took what looked like a white toothpaste tube. He placed this close to Sandra's tethered legs and removed his gloves. Sandra immediately noticed that his large, elegant hands were a dark brown and her heart skipped a beat. She was in the hands of a tall, powerful black male!
He retrieved the tube and eased from it onto his right index finger a line of clear gel. Sandra moaned helplessly into the gag and arched her back in a manner that actually pushed her aching sex towards his hands. He laughed and leant forward. Then, to her utter astonishment, and helpless delight, he grasped her stiff sex in one large hand and began to smear the gel over its bulging, purple head with the other.
She squealed and bucked with a furious pleasure as he worked the gel into her sex, her eyes stretched wide with sexual arousal and amazement.
'Calm down, princess,' he whispered. 'You really are a wild cat. I'll have to make sure you're tied more elaborately from now on.'
He continued to work the gel into the shaft of her sex. Tears of aching need poured from her pretty sissy eyes. She was now only a few seconds away from coming violently. He seemed to sense this and suddenly released his wicked grasp.
'That should do it,' he said, returning his attention to the bag. As she moaned with a terrible frustration, he produced a pink rubber sheath.
'The first thing you'll lean is the meaning of total restraint. True submission begins with the control of the body and the body's desires. As my slave, you will always be aware of the inescapable reality of my power.'
He then began to slip the sheath over the head of Sandra's sex. The beautiful, helpless and utterly infuriated she-male squealed and wiggled as her captor gently slid the soft rubber sheath down the length of her greased sex. Never had she experienced such sheer physical pleasure. As their eyes met again, she saw his desire for her, the dark pleasure this was bringing him. It was almost, in a weird, terrible way, like they were making love!
Once the sheath was tightly secured over the full length of her boiling, rigid sex, the intruder took three silver rings from the bag. Sandra watch - fascinated and appalled - as he teasingly demonstrated how each ring clicked open and shut. He placed two of the rings down on the bed, keeping the largest to hold over her face like a talisman of doom.
'Cock rings,' he whispered. 'A potent weapon in my arsenal of control, sweetness. From now on, you will wear them at all times, except, of course, when I require your sex for my own pleasure.'
Then he grasped her testicles and she screamed with shock and outrage into the fat panty gag. Holding the two delicate balls of flesh in one hand, he quickly snapped the ring into position around the full circumference of her scrotum. The tightness of this restraint was felt immediately, and the pressure applied caused her balls to bulge angrily. Then he applied the two other rings – one to the base of her sex and one to the space beneath its bulging, rubberised head. Both were also very tight.
'The rings make ejaculation utterly impossible,' the intruder said. 'You can be stiff, but never stiff enough to come. The rings therefore ensure excitement, but never completion. Your frustration will be severe, my love, but frustration is an essential part of the lesson of restraint.'
Poor Sandra looked down at her imprisoned sex and moaned fearfully. She then stared at her captor and felt an awful masochistic pleasure. Even as he had bound her and restrained her sex, even as he had used overwhelming physical force, there had been the most bizarre and paradoxical gentleness. He wanted her in this way. He wanted her bound, gagged and restrained. And he wanted her as what she was – as a she-male. His desire was quite overwhelming, and for a moment she thought she might lose consciousness.
But then he returned to the bag and her nightmares returned, for now he held a knife, a viscous, gleaming, silver bladed hunting knife.
She squealed with renewed terror and he laughed another cruel, unforgiving laugh. He squatted over her and grasped the hem of her lovely mini-dress. Then he began to cut the dress from her body.
'You won't be needing this, my pretty,' he whispered. 'This is a big girl's dress. You're not a big girl, Sandra; you're a sissy. Sissy Sandie. And sissies have very special and pretty costumes all of their own. I've a whole wardrobe waiting for you at my house.'
Eventually the dress was in shreds and discarded on the floor. He also cut the panties and the petticoat free, leaving her in just the sexy cross dresser's corselette and the lovely sheer tights.
He placed the knife on the bed and began to stroke her long, nylon sheathed legs, paying special attention to her inner thighs. She moaned with pleasure and tried to understand what was happening to her. This man appeared to be working with Amanda. He had watched her, and now he had come for her. He seemed an educated man, yet foreign; his accent, she now realised, was African. He had spoken of his house: not only was she to be bound, gagged, stripped and restrained - she was to be kidnapped! And the thought, to her amazement, filled her with a terrible sexual arousal.
'You were expensive, Sandie,' he said, continuing to caress her legs. 'But you're worth every penny. I have very specialised tastes, and you really are the most appropriate means for their satisfaction.'
So now she knew: she had been sold into sex slavery by Amanda! This was her wife's cruel revenge. She squealed into the panty gag and shook her head, a not very convincing attempt to demonstrate her horror, her terror.
'Yes,' he said, 'you make a very convincing damsel in distress. Bound, gagged and tormented. It'll be a real pleasure training you to be my maid and sex slave.'
His hands returned to her rubber and metal imprisoned sex. He delicately slipped it back into the corselette and rebuttoned the panel.
'But before pleasure, there must be education. Now, to remind you that I'm your master, you will be spanked. Then you will be prepared for the journey to my home. We will leave as soon as Amanda returns and I have paid her. You will spend the night suitably packaged and secured.'
She looked at him with fear and desire, with amazement and need. She whimpered girlishly into her gag and her heart pounded with a terrible sissy ambivalence. As his powerful hands gripped her body and turned her back onto her stomach, as he pulled her down the bed and then over his firm, broad thighs, her sex fought its restraint with a brutal hunger. Yet the only response was a tightening of the rings and a severe discomfort. Her eyes watered with pain, and she knew this was only the beginning.
Once he had her tightly tethered form held firmly over his knees, he spent some time stroking her upper thighs, before, very suddenly, administering a hard slap to her bottom. She squealed with shock and pain and he burst out laughing. A hand gripped her tightly tied wrists to hold her in place and then the spanking continued: 12 hard, brutal and totally unforgiving slaps that left her quivering with pain and a deep, inescapably masochistic excitement. Soon her pert, always feminine bottom was wobbling in its hose and corselette prison like a sexy jelly, and the more he spanked her, the more aroused and submissive she became. She felt his obviously large and very hard cock press into her stomach and imagined it inside her. She wondered what it would be like to suck him, and she knew she would find out very soon.
Then she was lifted to her high heeled feet. She was made to stand before him, despite being so
intricately and tightly bound. She swayed nervously on the stiletto heels and stared up at his impressively broad chest. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and she felt utterly and deliciously helpless before him.
His eyes caressed her she-male form with a perverse sexual hunger. It was now very clear he was deeply attracted to transvestites, and to this transvestite in particular. Sandra was intensely aroused by such blatant desire.
'You're a fine specimen,' he whispered.
Then he took up the roll of silver tape and pulled out a long strip, but did not tear it free. Instead, he spread it over the tape already covering her lips and ran it around her left cheek and then beneath the black page boy wig. Eventually, he had made a complete circle of Sandra's head, a process he repeated three times, until her entire face beneath her nose was covered in tight silver duct tape. This had the effect of squashing the panty gag even deeper into her mouth and making any sound other than the most pathetic of squeaks impossible.
She looked at him with renewed fear. He laughed and then, to her surprise, quickly pulled the wig from her head.
'I prefer to see your own hair, my little sissy flower.'
He threw the wig onto the bed and took a brush from the dressing table. He then carefully styled Sandra's very short male hair before returning to the dressing table and sorting through Amanda's stocking and tights drawer. He returned with a heavy (50 to 70) denier nylon stocking.
'This will make a suitable hood,' he said, stretching the stocking open and then pulling it down over Sandra's head, covering her face completely.
Suddenly, she was looking out at the world through a mask of thick black nylon. She moaned with fear and twisted pleasure, astonished and so deeply aroused by this man's perverse imagination.
"Can you breathe, my sweet?" he asked, his deep voice filled with genuine concern.
She nodded, her girlish nostrils flaring with a kinky passion.
He then retrieved the roll of duct tape and knelt down by her tightly tethered ankles.
She watched through a scented nylon haze as he began to wrap one long continuous strip of tape around her nylon sheathed legs, starting at her ankles and gradually working his way up past her knees and towards her thighs. When he reached the middle of her thighs, he tore the strip free from the roll and returned to the sports bag. What he then extracted from the bag inspired a moan of true amazement from poor Sandra; for the intruder held a large, pink plastic vibrator before her, a fierce-some sex rocket that filled her sissy heart with a painful sexual arousal.
He held the vibrator before her pretty she-male face and flicked it on. A low-level electrical buzz filled the room. Her eyes widened with a deeply sexualized fear as he then once again knelt down and carefully squeezed the vibrator between her thighs. He then edged it upward so that its buzzing tip was pressed against the gusset of the corselette, just at the point where her buttock cheeks parted. She squealed with an instant and powerful pleasure as the vibrations seemed to soak through the gusset and deep into her anus. As she moaned and wiggled with terrible, bottomless pleasure, he resumed the wrapping of her legs in the thick duct tape, thus squeezing her thighs tightly together and forcing the vibrator even harder against the gusset.
During the next few minutes, poor beautiful Sandra was expertly mummified in the duct tape, wrapped from her ankles to her neck in the glistening adhesive tape, her arms, tied tightly behind her back, completely disappearing behind the silver layers. And thus she was eventually transformed into a she-male cocoon, out of which her captor intended to create a beautiful sissy slave.
As he stood back to admire his handiwork - his eyes filled with a dark sexual joy - Sandra felt a sense of supreme feminine helplessness. As the vibrator drove her utterly insane with its fiendish teasing, as she moaned and wiggled, as she swayed on her high heels, she experienced a moment of blissful happiness. Her femininity, so severely oppressed by Amanda, was finally being allowed to flourish in this spectacle of ultra-bondage and abduction. She imagined her future with this mysterious man and felt a very deep contentment.
He then stepped forward and picked her up. She moaned with pleasure as he easily carried her over to the built in wardrobe that covered an entire wall of the bedroom.
At the far end of the wardrobe was a slim single compartment. It was just big enough to contain a small, slender human being. Her captor slid back the door to the compartment and then very carefully inserted her insider.
'The batteries in the vibrator will last for at least 8 hours, maybe longer. It's nearly 8.00pm now. I will come for you when Mandy returns. We will be on the road by 9.00am and at my home by mid-day. Then your training can begin in earnest, my sissy darling.'
She looked at him with love and fear. She was to be mummified and entombed for 12 hours!
'Don't worry, my pretty sissy, I will return for you. But tonight you must understand the true nature of restraint and of my power. Enjoy the vibrator, and think of tomorrow, because then we will begin to use special anal plugs to stretch your arse, and thus to prepare you as a receptacle for my own sex. Also, let your mind fill with the sweetest, daintiest baby girl costumes imaginable. I have filled two wardrobes with lovely sissy clothing. And then think of the never ending bondage, the tightest restraint, the total restriction. Think of all of this, and think of your inescapable future.'
She was squealing with desire and terror by the time he slid the wardrobe panel shut and plunged her into absolute darkness. She was yet to see his face, but she already knew she would do anything for him, that she was his willing slave.
She could hardly move a muscle. She was utterly helpless to resist the attention of the vibrator. She shouted her joy into the soft panty gag. Her wife's revenge, to sell her she-male husband into sex slavery, was, strangely, her greatest gift. At last Sandra, so shockingly beautiful to Amanda, was being freed by submersion in the most intricate and perverse of restriction. There was a very long night ahead, and as her sex fought its fiendish restraint and the vibrator buzzed with what seemed to be an ever increasing power, she knew she would love every moment of it. Then, of course, there was tomorrow, and the strange, kinky adventure that lay in the days ahead, days that would see her become the perfect sissy and allow her to find true happiness in her truest identity.
9. The Silken Illusion
Mrs Parsons parked her silver Mercedes people carrier in the private lot behind the Silken Illusion boutique. It was nearly 1.50pm. Her appointment was for 2.00pm. Punctuality was just one of this beautiful woman's many virtues.
For someone watching her arrive, it would have been difficult to see anything out of the ordinary. A casual viewer may have been impressed by the spectacle of Mrs Parson's generous form as she climbed from the vehicle, particularly the long, black nylon sheathed legs that ended in a pair of strikingly high-heeled court shoes. But they would have seen nothing more extraordinary, unless they had moved closer, close enough to stand beside the plump beauty as she slid back the rear passenger door. Then they would have seen something very unusual. For on the back seat, wiggling and squealing, was a strange and highly animated parcel, or rather a pink satin sack with two white nylon encased legs, legs tied very tightly with pink silk ribbons at the ankles, knees and thighs.
The sack was in fact a specially designed pink satin body bag, its leg sections and neck heavily be-frilled with layers of elegant white lace. It was arm-less and tightly secured via a series of large pearl buttons that ran along the front, from just above the crotch area right up to the frilled neck. And rising from a small, Velcro-sealed whole in the crotch area was a narrow silver chain that ended in a pink leather leash attached to the head rest of the driver's seat. And, as a final touch of elegant perversity, the unfortunate inhabitant of this bag had his (or maybe her) head covered with a matching pink nylon stocking hood.
Mrs Parsons lent forward into the car and began to ease the leash from the headrest. The secret viewer would have been treated to the teasing spectacle of this gorgeo
us woman's very plump but still shapely backside straining against the black and white material of her knee-length Prince of Wales check skirt as she freed the leash and gave it one very hard, angry tug. The unfortunate parcel - her captive - unleashed a pained, muffled cry and then fell silent.
Mrs Parsons stretched a little further forward and untied the silk ribbon binding the human parcel's ankles. Her large, perfectly formed breasts, wrapped tightly in a cream-coloured cashmere sweater, pressed against the white nylon sheathed lap of the captive and a very male moan of helplessly intense pleasure leaked from behind the nylon hood. She then tugged on the leash once again and ordered her captive out of the car. Close analysis of the hood would have revealed two wide, tear stained eyes covered in opaque pink nylon, eyes filled with genuine horror. A muffled squeak of fear issued from a mouth sealed by a thick strip of tape, behind which was hidden a very special and mouth filling gag: a pair of Mrs Parsons' pretty white silk panties, worn the day before and now teasing her poor captive's mouth with her most intimate and womanly flavours. The captive shook his head and the squeak became a sustained squeal of terror. Mrs Parsons tutted loudly and gave a very long and even harder tug on the leash. A further squeal of very real pain followed and then the captive began to edge his way along the seat.
'You'll be spanked until your bottom turns the colour of a ripe cherry for that,' Mrs Parsons snapped, her beautiful ice blue eyes filled with a mixture of genuine anger and haughty amusement.
She hauled her captive to the end of the seat and lifted him out of the car, carefully helping him to balance on the smooth tarmac of the car park, a process complicated by the fact that his feet were sealed in a pair of pink patent leather ankle boots with fierce 4 inch stiletto heels and his knees and thighs were still tightly tethered.
Mrs Parsons quickly closed the side door and locked the car. She then tugged on the leash once more and led the unfortunate, desperately tottering human parcel across the car park.
Silken Tales Page 23