****
Tranny Spinks was a hermaphrodite. He didn’t like drugs and wanted out of Jake’s cartel. Jake had wanted a well-rounded business, which catered to everyone’s tastes. He’d given Tranny only one option to join. Tranny counted himself a success. His business interests catered to the gender-benders, homosexuals, bisexuals, she-males, and people like him. Who lived and worked in twilight Soho. He stood in front of his mirror studying his slim naked body. His cock still moist from his fuck last night, his thoughts focused on Jake’s party. Not on the young black on the bed behind him. Tranny had the light copper skin of mixed parentage and the long, slim figure of a mixed gender person. He could, when the occasion demanded. Perform the functions of both sexes. He was in constant demand by both genders, whatever their persuasion. Tranny could be whatever his clients wanted him to be. He could take it up the arse, in the cunt or mouth, and give it back too. He preferred men to women because he liked to feel their stiff cocks in him. Yet, every now and again, he wanted to surprise a woman, when in drag, with his live six-inch dick. Depending on his mood and her persuasion.
He fascinated doctors. Some, after asking him to cough, wanted him to do other things for them too. His favourite fantasy was to be the meat in a sandwich with him fucking the woman or man and the man fucking him. His good looks ensured he was never short of lovers of either sex. His partners never felt any guilt about what gender they were fucking either. The women could use his body as a man. The men, as an attractive woman. The gender-benders, lesbians, homosexuals, and she-males, as either. He considered himself the perfect sexual tool. It would take a strong-minded person to refuse him once they’d committed themselves to sex with him. Not knowing who he was until he was naked. If you didn’t realise who Tranny was, you couldn’t tell the difference. Once aroused, who gives a fuck anyway?
Tranny glanced at the young black man on the bed. “You’d better leave Bobby. I’ll see you next week. Thanks, for a fucking good night.”
“It’s cool Tranny, same time next week? Wear the red dress when you fuck me. I dig a woman fucking me.”
“Okay, Bobby.”
Tranny had hated his father. Thank Christ, he’d pissed off when he did, or I would have killed the bastard for sure. He loved his mother with a deep affection though. She accepted him for what he was and loved him as both a son and a daughter. His mother was the only person in his complicated life he loved and could trust. He’d bought her a small neat flat on the other side of town. There he visited her once a week for Sunday dinner and dressed according to his mood at the time. She knew nothing of the life he led or his business and never asked. It gave him great pleasure his mother blamed his father for what he was. When she’d caught his father abusing her Tranny over his bed-end one night. She’d kicked him in the balls then kicked him out onto the street.
After that, Tranny had never seen his father again, nor wanted to. He discovered his attractiveness to both sexes at school. He was never confused by his sexuality. As some of his adolescent classmates seemed to be. He had no shortage of experimental sexual partners at school, both male and female. He sometimes wondered if he’d been responsible, apart from Bobby. For any of his other young lovers. Emerging from their pubertal experiments as rampant bisexuals. He said aloud, “Tonight. I’ll dress like a woman.”
Tranny could feel his body becoming aroused at the thought of a man’s cock inside him. His hands wandered upwards to his breasts. He fancied Joe Mallion. The feeling of Joe’s giant dick in his mouth or arse always made him sweat. But he knew what Joe thought of men or anything not made of malleable woman’s flesh. He forced himself to forget about Joe. Joe would not only kick my balls in. He’d kick my cunt, arse, and teeth in too. Anyway, I fancy a brother tonight, a long black sausage will go down well.
He would dress to suit, something light to show off his colour to the blood, something tasteful and French. He cupped his small succulent breasts with his hands, pinched their hard nipples, then ran his fingers down his body to his six-inch cock. It’s like a long over-developed clit. He began to masturbate himself to erection. He could feel the excitement and tension building within. As his cock hardened to its full length under his expert fingers. He increased his speed. With his other hand, he began to frig his cunt and watched as his cum hit the mirror. Fuck me! Some lucky black bastard’s in for it tonight, and all three holes if I have my say.
Tranny had tried to fuck himself once, but a stiff cock was too hard to bend into a ‘U’ shape. My cunt should have been on top. Life was good for him, and it could get better if Jake’s invitation meant anything. He felt guilty about the drugs bit though. The cartel knew but didn’t give a shit. They’re only interested in what I can bring to the partnership. The bastards. Cupping his breasts again. He drove his guilt from his mind with his fingertips and new thoughts. Tonight, Tranny you’re going to be Marie-Antoinette. The French Queen whose breast shape was immortalised into the form of a champagne glass. Marie-Antoinette, the beautiful Queen who’d lost her head under a guillotine. Fuck me! Whoever comes home with me tonight is going to lose his head up my arse, or my name’s not Tranny Spinks. He laughed at his little joke and started to dress.
First, a favourite pair of cream silk lace panties. Then the cream silk period dress, Tranny’s mother had made him. It showed off his small breasts and cleavage just enough to look exciting. He wore no bra, his currant-sized nipples added enough point through the thin material. To attract the right kind of man, or woman, by their twin appeal. Like Marie-Antoinette, he was proud of his breasts. Like her King. He too toyed with the idea of having a set of champagne glasses moulded from their shape for his mother. Who liked to guzzle a bottle or two at Christmas? The thought excited him. He ran his hands over their perfect symmetrical shapes up to his long, slender throat. He hesitated. Then dipped into his jewellery box for a six-strand choker of yellow pearls. And a matching jewel-encrusted tiara. These he complimented with a pair of pearl drops hooked into his small elegant and chewy ears. They look like cum drops hanging there. He placed a little pearl choker around his right ankle. With a pearl ring added to each pinkie. There that should cover the rectum. He giggled I mean the spectrum.
His dark brown hair he styled into ringlets, which fell to his slim well-shaped shoulders in light, springy coils. He not only looked attractive, he felt attractive. I wish I could fuck myself. He wouldn’t be sleeping alone tonight. If it happened to turn into a club sandwich, then so what. What I fancy tonight is a nice big juicy black salami sandwich. What I imagine I usually get. He glanced at the clock, time to go. He had time for a drink before the taxi arrived. I hope it’s not Bonsy Brown. I’ll have to beat him off with a club if he sees me dressed like this. Still, he had a cure for Bonsy; a quick pull will cool his ardour some. He felt like a walking advert. He didn’t care though. Like Joe, you had to advertise for the right people in the right way. If they didn’t get the message, they weren’t worth the fucking. As a last resort, I can always get physical under the table with my hand and bring things to a head. If they still didn’t get the message, fuck them. I’ll wait for someone else.
When the taxi arrived, it was Bonsy. With a groan of resignation, He knew he’d have to do the necessary or Bonsy would ruin his dress. “For fuck’s sake Bonsy! Keep your greasy hands off my tits. I have a party to go to tonight.”
Bonsy wouldn’t take no for an answer and refused to leave until he’d had a knee trembler over the sink. “Come on Tranny you know you like it, and you know how I like it, so please hurry. Get your fucking bum over the sink…I won’t charge you for the taxi.”
With a sigh, Tranny gave in. Besides Bonsy was too big to argue with and if he didn’t get what he wanted. He would rip his mother’s dress to shreds getting it. “Okay, Bonsy get your cock out.”
Bonsy had his cock already in his hand, and it was dripping hungry. “Legs apart Tranny here I come.”
“The Vaseline’s in the cabinet over there.” He could feel his sap rising. Two
pumps later, he heard Bonsy gasp and felt the warm spurt of Bonsy’s come through his condom. I should have sucked you off instead.” “For fuck’s sake Bonsy, that was too quick.
“It’s your damn dress Tranny, I couldn’t help myself. No one can make me come as you do. I only have to look at you, and I feel like fucking the arse, mouth, and cunt off you.”
“Well, for now, my arse will do. It will cost you another month’s free trips Bonsy. You owe me for six months already.” He didn’t mind Bonsy giving him a quick one now and again, it kept Bonsy happy. He knew Bonsy didn’t go with anyone else because he was in love. And I do need my transport.
“It’s worth it Tranny. It’s always worth it to you. I’d be your personal chauffeur if you let me, I’ll even marry you.”
“No! Give me a minute to clean up Bonsy. I’ll be with you shortly.” He washed his buns over the bidet, fussed his hair, and changed his panties. Locking the door behind him, he joined a happy and satisfied Bonsy in the taxi.
“Where to Tranny?”
“Jake’s Place. I’m late now because of you.”
“Sorry.”
****
Amanda Stevens at thirty-six was still beautiful. Her long red hair and green flashing eyes reminded anyone who met her of a famous movie star of the forties. She had been a nymphomaniac and brothel owner then. Now a part of Jake’s crazy Cartel and doing well. As part of the first interviews with her young male employees. She insisted they give her a knee-trembler over her desk in her private office. Which was essential for their future employment. She needed to see if they had what it took to be a sex-starved elderly woman’s insatiable toy boy. She’d tested the last one on her desk. Where he had shown promise. Now in the bedroom in her private apartment, he had passed with flying colours. She had failed and worried because she had not climaxed again.
She glanced at the youngster on the bed behind her massaging his sore cock. He had tried everything to make her come but to no avail. Something’s still missing. All her life she’d searched for that elusive something. Never satisfied and never content because she couldn’t accept, she was bisexual. Beautiful, successful, and wealthy, with everything money, could buy, except sexual fulfilment. She glanced again at the young, exhausted human Ram who lay on the bed. His flaccid cock in his hand, he was looking at her buns. Well fucked and empty, his bigger than average cock had done her no good.
He noticed Amanda’s glance and said, “I don’t know what you want from me, boss? I’ve tried everything to make you come, even fucked you in the mouth and arse...I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault Will.” He’s young enough to be my son, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve tried all the colours, shapes, and sizes, yet...When I feel I’m about to come, I fizzle out like a damp squib. It must be mental. I’ve even fucked my Shrink over his desk. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with me, or he’s not telling me the truth, the bastard. He likes to blow his tubes in me every session to see if I’m any better.” She sighed. “Look at you, half my age, with a cock like a donkey Will, and still nothing happens.” She started to cry with frustration. “I want so much to come as a woman it’s become an obsession.”
“Let’s give it another go boss?”
“No, your cock looks a little swollen, excuse the pun. I get so frustrated and depressed when things don’t work out. I don’t even become wet anymore. It’s not the size of the cock because I’ve had some of the longest, the biggest, and the thickest up me… And in all colours.” She smiled. “You have one of the biggest and thickest Will.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“You can start work tonight. I have a randy old girl of seventy-five in Spain who wants one or my Rams to service her for two weeks, expenses paid. She likes her sex, so don’t let her wear you out, Will.” She pointed to his cock. “I’ll need that in me when you come back, so get yourself fit. With her, I guarantee you will be. The tickets are on the desk. Expect a marathon fuck from me when you get back. There’ll be a bonus in your pay packet this week. A little something from me for trying to please me last night.”
“Thank you, Boss, I’ll keep her happy, and I look forward to my return.”
Amanda was an excellent boss to her flock. Yet, a hard woman when it came to business or if anyone got in her way. For her white slaves, she cared nothing. They were business, and their bodies on the hoof were worth a fortune to her. She’d been with Jake now for the past six months. She liked the money they were making together. In another few years, the cartel would own half of London’s sex business. After Jake had eliminated some of the competition first. Who was she to ask questions if one of Jake’s competitors disappeared? In mysterious circumstances mostly? She was safe if she played along.
Now, where’s that fucking dress? Tanis’s thoughts focused on Jake’s fancy dress ball. Her melancholy had disappeared. She became a little excited about Jake’s birthday party. She took a quick shower. I hope I meet someone exciting tonight. Someone who can make me come. Again, her negative mind took over, He’d have to be someone special; even so, I must not lose hope.
In the past, knowing who she was, a woman would approach her for sex. She would always decline. “Sorry, I understand why you’re attracted to me, but I’m not like that.” She’d always felt a little guilty, as it was an accepted part of the brothel business to take clients from both genders. Some of her straight girls hadn’t liked sleeping with a woman either. If they refused, she fired them. After the first few times. The girls who did. Looked at it as a pleasant way of frigging themselves by using another woman’s hands and body as a sexual tool. Some even becoming bisexual. She’d thought about sleeping with Shelly her bisexual secretary. I wonder what it would feel like to let her loose on my body. I know she fancies me. She might even be in love with me the way she ogles me. Fuck it!
Amanda couldn’t explain the sudden feeling of wetness below and chided herself…I just not like that! She sighed at her thoughts as she stepped into a pure white see-through dress, which she fastened with a gold clip under her firm breasts, leaving them exposed to view. Next, she drew a thick golden sash cord twice around her hourglass waist. Then knotted it on her lower stomach in a 'V'. To let its two tasselled ends. Point the way to, ‘Heaven’s gate.’
She laughed, her mood brightening. Amanda slipped her feet into a pair of gold high-heeled sandals. Which laced high around her well-shaped ankles and calves. Afterwards, Half covering her breasts with a beautiful shoulder cover of huge emeralds. Mounted in pure filigreed gold. Which she had picked up in Egypt from a tomb raider. The jewels matched her beautiful green eyes and were her favourite precious stone. The comfortable weight of the collar pressured her breasts and pushed her nipples forward. Into two hard points of spirited blood-infused verve. She fingered her swollen nipples and whispered. “If they don’t bring the men’s bulges out, nothing will.” She released her long red hair to fall onto her shoulders. As Cleopatra had done in the movie and took another glance at herself in the mirror. Oh My God! Even I fancy myself. She could see a hint of her fiery velvet through the thin material of the dress. What surprised her more was the feeling of wetness inside her? Christ! What’s happening to me?
She knew she was a winner and wondered who would be in bed with her tonight. Whoever it is would have to have balls like a camel. Young, or prove to be an exceptional lover to stand a chance with me. Her nipples hardened to her thoughts. Her heavy necklace making them harder. Will they harden like this if I spot someone I fancy? She sighed. “I fucking hope so.” Happier now, her mind settled on who she was. I might not look like Queen Nefertiti. Even so, I feel like her.
Amanda’s mind switched to her businesses. Two large brothels decorated in the luxurious style of Georgian England. Plus, a shipping line. Not a bad company for someone my age. Her ships had become a magnet for Jake Blake’s interest. Because of the drugs, white slaves, and other secret cargoes they carried from Northern European ports. To the Middle East and Afr
ica. Her sales reps, who were all trained in the art of passive kidnapping. Picked up the naive and innocent young blond-haired, blue-eyed beauties. Who came from both sexes from all over Scandinavia, the Netherlands, and Germany. Promising them good jobs in the Middle East and Africa.
Once on board, and drugged. The captives sold to the highest bidders at onboard slave auctions. Who could put a price? On live good-looking young white slaves with the right credentials? If the buyers were foreign, wealthy, and asked no questions, they were her customers. She didn’t give a shit about her young charges. So long as they were all over the legal age of consent and she received the money up front. Most ended up on the streets or in sleazy brothels after their wealthy owners had tired of them or worn them out. The lucky ones found places in the harems and households of wealthy men and women who were kinder. Although they still had to pay the rent. All had to have passports to prove their ages, or she wasn’t interested. To be otherwise. Would only attract unwelcome attention from the international police. She wasn’t above the law. Jake might have one or two tame politicians in his pocket. Also, some higher ranks in the police with his funny handshakes; but, she had none. She was a woman.
Amanda poured herself a drink, held it up to her image in the mirror and said aloud. “Here’s to you my girl, long may you prosper.” She smiled, phoned for a taxi, and pulled her long black overcoat on to cover her dress. She didn’t want the taxi driver getting any ideas above his station. Or become distracted enough by her bare tits to crash. She poured herself another drink and settled down to wait. Now determined to enjoy the evening. Ten minutes later the taxi driver announced his arrival. Ten minutes later, she found herself seated at Jake’s table. Smiling at the close attention, she was receiving from both Jake and Joe. “How do I look Jake, Joe? Happy birthday Jake.”
Joe quipped. His dark, unfathomable eyes glued to her breasts. His dong springing to attention from its melancholic sleep. “Struth Amanda! I must compliment you on your half dress and superb bare tits.”
The Willing Prey Page 27