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| Secret of the
Strongman (first three chapters -- transgender story) By Nancy Rose This is a story for adults. It deals with dark sexual fantasies, especially forced feminization. Don't try any of this stuff at home. If you are under 21, do not read this. Prologue He picked me up easily, bear hugging me in his big meaty arms. My red-high-heeled feet left the floor as I wrapped my stocking covered legs around his waist. We kissed, and I felt so loved, so protected. While one of his big arms held me aloft, another reached down and pulled up my mini-skirt. I always wore crotchless panties for easy access. He slid into me with little effort. Just a few weeks earlier, this would have been amazingly painful. Now it was ecstasy, to be full of him, to give him pleasure, to once again let him take whatever was left of my manhood. How could I resist him? After all, he was World's Strongest Man. ----- Chapter One I was the PR guy at a lovely resort on a small Caribbean island. My big project of the month, of the entire year, was the World's Strongest Man Contest. Our little hunk of paradise was about to be invaded by huge men with names like Olaf, Sven and Jakua. These guys came from around the world (mostly the eastern European countries and Samoa) to pick up engine blocks and boulders and beer kegs. They would run with these weights and throw them and see how long they could keep holding them up until either their arms were ripped from their sockets or they just dropped them. The event was beamed around the world and watched by just about everyone except for Americans, who favored strongmen killing each other (football, wrestling, boxing) rather strong men just being strong. It was a high visibility event for the resort, so it was important to put on a good show, provide energetic crowds and keep the press happy. Other than that, I couldn't have cared less about who was the world's strongest man. Until I saw the world's strongest woman, Ivanka Gerrman. She was six-one, had the high-cheek-boned face of a super model, the beautiful green eyes of a cat, and the body of a woman who could bench press four hundred pounds before her morning cup of coffee. God she was sexy. I'd never seen anything like her. Her hair was done in a jet-black pageboy. She wore a black, skin-tight spandex mini dress, which would have made a normal woman look vulnerable. But the way it hugged her every muscle, the rippled abs, the rock hard glutes, she looked strong and sleek and almost painfully sexy. She really was the World's Strongest Woman. They hold the competition in Iceland every year. Ivanka had dominated the field three years running. She looked like she could hold the title for another decade. The downside to this, the most intense crush of my life, was that she was married to the World's Strongest Man, Gerald Gerrman, 300 pounds of muscle, a huge, mustachioed hulk of a man. But she still smiled at me as she walked off the plane, even though she was hanging onto Gerald's arm. He didn't mind. Why would he have any reason to feel insecure? Why would he be concerned about me at 5'8'', 150 pounds and a good wind could pick me up like a kite? I gave all the strongmen competitors and their entourages (made up of wives, girlfriends, coaches, trainers and masseuses) their room assignments. I handed the envelope to Ivanka, and she smiled, causing me to lose the power of speech. "Thank you," she said in a Germanic accent that was just as cute as could be. I couldn't speak, so I just smiled dumbly. ---------- It was at pre-competition lunch that she winked at me from across the room. She was sitting at table with her husband and four other Strongmen. The room was full of gargantuan bearded men. It looked like a feast for Vikings and their mates. Her husband didn't seem to notice. I said, "Me?" and pointed to myself in disbelief. She nodded, laughed a bit, and winked again. Then she got up, kissed her husband on the cheek -- he barely seemed to notice as he was talking to another huge bearded man about training techniques or vitamin supplements or perhaps the best methods of raping and pillaging -- then walked to the exit, giving me a come-hither nod before walking out. What else could I do but get up and follow? I found her outside in the hallway. "Hello," she said. "I've noticed you watching me." "Me? No, I've just been amazed by all the competitors. And you look, well, you are stunning. I just..." "Would you like to make love to me?" My jaw just about hit the floor. "What?" I asked. "You can if you like. You're cute. I think I would enjoy you." "I'm sure I would enjoy you also, but your married to man who could use me to pick his teeth." "Don't worry about him. You'll be doing him a great service." "Come again?" "Let's go to my room and I'll explain." What else was I going to do? Say no? -------------- She was surprisingly gentle in bed. She was the dominant one to be sure. I was clearly under her command. "Kiss here. Lick here. Move like this." I was more than happy to comply with her gentle directions. It was certainly worth the price she had asked me to pay. Though the price did seem steep at the time. She wanted me to do something, something for Gerald. And I wasn't sure if I could do it. But she talked me into it. "Every man, at one time or another has experimented sexually with another man," she said. "This will be just a strange, funny night that you'll always remember." This was the deal: In exchange for a night of pleasure with her, I would perform oral sex on Gerald. Why? Well, it turned out Gerald came from gypsies and believed in certain kinds of magic. He believed that he could take a small part of my manhood if I performed oral sex on him. He needed all the manhood he could muster for the competition. Ivanka said this was typical for Gerald, a kind of pre-competition ritual. He wasn't gay, or even bi. He just had this very odd belief. She promised me it would be easy. She would help me. "Just pretend it's a big something that tastes good," she said. "It's simple. I'll even pour honey on it if you want." She talked me into it more easily than I care to admit. I needed to have sex with her. She could have asked me to jump off a building and I would have. After Ivanka and I had wallowed in pleasure for a few hours, we cuddled under the blankets. She felt so good, so strong. I liked having my arms around her. She kissed me on the forehead. "Are you ready little one?" she asked. "I guess," I said. She phoned Gerald. ----- Turned out he was a very nice guy. We chatted for a few moments. I was feeling awkward but he was perfectly at ease and did his best to make me feel better. "I really do appreciate this," he said with a German accent. "I hope your sacrifice was worth it. Did you enjoy Ivanka?" "She was marvelous," I said, "That pleases me," he said. "I want you to enjoy this relationship as much as possible. I'm not one to force anyone to do something they're not comfortable with. Are you displeased at the thought of losing a piece of your manhood?" "I, uh, well, I'm not really familiar with, this, uh, magical procedure. It doesn't involve surgery or anything does it?" "Oh no," Ivanka said. "You just perform on Gerald orally. It's nothing that millions and millions of people don't do everyday. You won't be hurt in the least." "Of course not, little one," Gerald said. "All you'll feel afterward is a little ... lighter. I've done this many times. Those who service me never regret it. You might feel a bit different afterward, but who wouldn't after such an intimate experience with another human being?" Looking at Ivanka's gorgeous legs helped me muster my courage. And I was starting to feel comfortable with Gerald. He was such a nice guy, so friendly and gentle. "I'm sure I can do it then," I said. "Then let's waste no time," said Gerald. "Ivanka, prepare the little one." Ivanka took my hand and led me into the bathroom. "Please take off your clothes," she said. "I have to be naked?" "No, but you must dress as I say." "Okay." I took off my clothes. "Very nice," she said. "You have a very pretty, very elegant body. I enjoy looking at you." I blushed. "I'm no he-man like Gerald," I said. "No need to be insecure. Your body holds a different kind of beauty than Gerald's, but it is beautiful nonetheless. Now, we should hurry. Gerald is waiting. Understand?" She placed a gold chain around my neck. On it was a gold flower, beautifully crafted, with a small diamond in the center. "The legend has it that the wearer of this charm has the ability to turn from a man into a woman, much the way a flower goes from male to female. This charm has been in Gerald's family for more than 300 years." "Wow. It's beautiful." And it was, the craftsmanship was incredible, the petals were so thin and smooth. The diamond, though small, seemed to glow with a light of it's own. And wearing it, well, did make me feel a little feminine, delicate. "We must put a bit of make up on your face," she said. "Why?" "Because Gerald likes women, and for him to do what he must, you must look at least a little feminine." "You didn't mention this before." "Little One, the better you look, the quicker this will be. If you look too boyish, Gerald will never finish and you'll be on your knees for hours. Is that what you want?" "No. No I don't." "Then let me prepare you, please? Don't worry, you'll be pretty." "That's not really what I'm worried about. I just feel weird about this. All this talk of taking my manhood and now you're making me look like a girl." "Let yourself be vulnerable, little one. You are safe with us, among friends, and we would never hurt you or shame you. Just relax. Enjoy this. Not everyone has an opportunity to feel how the opposite sex feels." "Alright. Alright. Do what you must." She worked quickly, using what seemed like just about everything in her well-organized, and large, make up kit. On went foundation, all over my face. Then my eyes, huge false lashes, mascara, liner, a brownish eye shadow. She even plucked my eyebrows just a bit. Then a lip pencil outlined my lips, filled in with bright red lipstick. "Gerald is a very conventional man," she said. "Bright red lipstick turns him on." The thought of my bright red lips turning on Gerald shook me a bit. Were painted lips enough to push me to the other side of the gender spectrum? "Now a wig," she said and brought out a long blond curly thing that looked as heavy as it was beautiful. "I'm a brunette, so we'll make you a blond, just to give him some variety." "Does it have to be so long?" I asked. "You won't have it on for long. I know Gerald fantasizes about long blond hair, so this will be perfect." On it went, the weight of it, the warmth of it, and the curls dangling in my face, made me quite aware that I now had a crown of feminine hair. "We're almost done," she said. "Slip into this." It was a white lacy babydoll nightie, delicate, accented all over with little bows and lace flowers, created to turn a woman into a symbol of virginal female sexuality. "Do I have to?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "It's not going to hurt you." She slid it over my hairless body. It lightly caressed my chest. The lace flowers at the bottom barely went below my rear, my small member dangled just below the hem. "You look lovely," she said. "You look like a fairy from a legend, at once masculine and feminine." "In my country, the word fairy has a negative meaning." "In my country fairies are magic. People love them because they are so special, and so powerful." "Am I ready?" "All you need are the shoes," she said. "Gerald loves high heeled shoes." She gave me a pair of shiny white pumps with ankle straps and five-inch heels. They were the sexiest shoes I had ever seen, and she wanted me to wear them. "There's no way I'll be able to walk in these," I said. "Oh don't worry. I'll help you." I put them on and stood, feeling much taller and very vulnerable because not only was I wearing this wispy breath of a garment, but I was off balance and felt as if I could topple over any second. I almost did when I looked at myself in the mirror. I was beautiful. There were still hints of the male, the flat chest, the dangling thing between my legs. But the rest of me, so pretty, so thin, hairless and pail, looked feminine. The bright, batting eyes. The red lips. The ass and thighs nice and curvy. Toes pointed into sexy shoes. I looked better as this almost-girl than I had ever had as a boy. The thought shamed me. I almost cried. "You are beautiful, little one," she said in my ear. "Do not look so sad. I adore you like this. Looking at you makes my heart race." "I'm not a man." "Not tonight my little one. Not tonight. Feel good. Feel beautiful. Let yourself become a new person." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll try. I'll really try." "Now you are ready," she said. Part of me wanted to run out the door, but I had to do this. I had promised. It would be quick and then I could leave. It'd be this great story I'd probably never tell anyone. She took me by the hand and guided me back out into the hotel room. The lights were off. I could make out the hulking form of Gerald sitting in an easy chair. "Come, little one," he said softly. I froze for a second. Ivanka whispered in my ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Go to him." I took a deep breath and walked to him. I felt like a virgin bride on her wedding night, nervous and afraid. I stood in front of him. He gently took my hand. "You are so beautiful," he said with some surprise. "You are truly a vision. Seeing like this, it makes me happy that you are giving this gift to me. My little babushka, thank you for being so beautiful.' "You're welcome," I said and blushed. I felt flattered. I even think I batted my eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked. "As I'll ever be, I suppose." --------- Chapter Two "No need to fear," Gerald said in his deep voice. "This will be easily done. Just get on your knees." He firmly pulled my hand, not forcing me, just guiding me. I dropped to my knees. His thick, hairy legs were spread around me. I felt surrounded by his manliness. I felt small and weak, and it didn't feel entirely bad. I looked at it, that stiff hunk of flesh between his legs. It was huge. I couldn't take my eyes off it. It struck me how beautiful it was, so straight and simple, elegant even. He touched my face, running his fingers along my cheek. God, he was gentle. "My pretty little one, why don't you start by giving it a kiss? That should be simple enough." I stared at the head if it, all red and round smooth. It didn't look all that unfriendly. I leaned over and touched my lips to the tip, a curious sensation, like kissing velvet. Gerald said, "Mmmmm. Your lips feel so nice and soft." I kissed it again, harder, letting the head go just a bit in my mouth. My heart sped up. My breathing became deep. A lust took over and I became aroused. I took it all in my mouth, the whole thing. It felt so big and full, and there I was on my knees, in a nightie and heels, serving this man and I must admit, and I felt good, proud even, that I was giving him pleasure. Then some kind of oral sex instinct took over. From that point, I just knew what to do, possessed by a forbidden knowledge I didn't know I had. In and out. In and out. I used my tongue, flicking the head of it. I licked his balls. When his shaft was in my mouth, I reached up and gently massaged his sack. The idea of him cumming excited me. I wanted to see it, to feel it, to experience the gratification. The whole exercise was very goal oriented. I wanted to achieve my goal. "Oooooo I'm so close," he whispered. "Ivanka, make sure." "Yes, dear," she said. I could feel everything from his balls to the base of his shaft grow tense. I knew what was about to happen and I panicked. Suddenly, the idea of swallowing wasn't all that sexy. I was about to pull away when I felt two very strong hands grab the sides of my head and hold me still. I pushed back as hard as I could, but I wasn't going anywhere. "You must swallow it all, little one," Ivanka whispered in my ear. Apparently, I had no choice. It squirted into my mouth, salty and gamy. Was there garlic in it? Maybe a hint of some kind of fruit. It was so strange. I couldn't help but swallow it. The head of his cock was so far back in my throat; the fluid was injected into me. It felt like he came for five minutes, then, finally, he grew soft, and I felt his manhood grow limp and shrink in my mouth. Ivanka's hold on my head eased and became gentle once again. "Very good, little one," she cooed in my ear. "You were perfect." Gerald was lost in his own little world. He sounded sleepy. "Yes, yes, yes," he said. "I can feel it. I feel it making me stronger. Have her say it Ivanka" And I was feeling weaker. The room started to spin a bit. Ivanka whispered into my ear. "Repeat after me," she said. And here is what I said as I swooned and tried to stay conscious... "Gerald's seed is in me, changing me, growing my femininity. In exchange for this delicate gift, I give my manhood to the giver, to Gerald. In the name if gypsy Goddess Addyessa, I pray, make me into the female image of the giver's choosing. Let it be." Then Gerald said in his booming voice... "I pray to thee Addyessa, to the one who has willingly given me his manhood, make her into the image of which now inhabits my mind. Let the agent of this change be my seed, which the little one now hungers for. And as her manhood flows to me, let my feminine energies flow into her. And let her name be Sasha." I felt surge sweep though my body, every muscles tensed. It seemed my every cell cried out. I fell backward and Ivanka caught me, then picked me up in her big arms and carried me to the bed. I had an image in my head of a pretty blond girl, 19 or 20 years old, thin and petite, with a small delicate face and huge blue eyes and plump red lips. I couldn't stop thinking about this beautiful creature. "Sleep now, little one," Ivanka said. "Sleep.' And, full of cum and with a warm satisfied glow, I did. Chapter Three I woke the next morning feeling lighter, refreshed, and strange. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was I smaller? Or was the room bigger? But it was just the fact that I was still wearing a flimsy, girlish nightie. Wow! What a weird night. It was definitely time to get back to the real world. There was a note on the bed: "Sasha, Thanks for a lovely evening. See you at the competition. Love Ivanka and Gerald." Holy shit. The competition. I was late for work. I found my clothes, slipped into them (They seemed a little small. Was I losing weight?) and dashed down to the pool area where the morning's weight lifting events were being held. Technically I was late, but I could just tell my boss I was off in search of a TV crew that had lost its way from the airport. I showed up at the pool in time to see Gerald's first lift, a giant log weighing almost 300 pounds. I watched him and was mesmerized. He was so big. So muscular. So beautiful. You could almost feel the masculine power surging through him as he hefted the log easily above his head. Watching the display of brute force made me tingly all over. I found it exciting in a way I never had before. "You aren't having a crush on my husband are you?" It was Ivanka. She was right behind me, wearing a skin tight, bright orange body suit and a lime-green, ultra-short skirt. She looked amazing as always. "Oh hi!" I said, excited to see her and gave her a quick hug without thinking. It was just like two girlfriends greeting each other, which disturbed me a bit, but I blew it off. "He is exciting to watch," she said. "Is he not?" "He is quite the specimen." "Do you feel any different after last night?" "No, well, a little funny I guess. But I do feel so good. I can't describe it." "Perfect. You were just perfect last night. Gerald also felt very good about it. He will trounce the competition today. Will you stop by our room tonight?" My lust wanted to scream yes, but I was getting scared. It was all just too weird for me. I wanted to get back to being normal guy, a straight guy that liked sex with girls and didn't hunger for the cocks of large muscular men. "No thanks," I said. "I have just too much work to do before tomorrow." "As you wish Sasha. I'm sad to hear that, but you can always change your mind. I won't be at all surprised to see you tonight." "Right. Well, see you later." I got the hell out of there. She had a pull on me. I was so close to crumbling and begging her to see me again that night. I walk away from the pool and into the hotel. I was having a hard time keeping my pants up. I pulled my belt as tight as I could, and still, they kept dropping with each step. What was going on? I walked over to the employee lunch room, thinking I'd fatten up a little on a giant pastrami sandwich with melted provolone and thousand island dressing. I wasn't hungry. No, that wasn't right. I was hungry, but not for that gorgeous sandwich sitting in front of me. All I could think about, besides the embarrassment, was Gerald's huge cock, and the milk that came out of it. The image of that big flesh rod spewing white haunted me. I was turning gay, and I didn't want to be gay. What the hell was I supposed to do? I called in sick and went home. My boss didn't mind. With the competition underway, there wasn't much left to do. The preparation was the hard part. I laid in bed for a while, but couldn't get the image out of my head. I needed to do something. There was a knock at the door. My heart raced and my cock got hard. I hoped so much that it was Gerald and his lovely penis. I slipped into a pair of baggy sweat pants, that were not baggy a day earlier, and T-shirt and went to the door. "Hello?" I said. "It's a friend of Gerald's," said a deep voice on the other side of the door. "He wishes to see you." I squinted and peeked through the peep hole. There was a mountain of male flesh on the other side, as big as Gerald, blond spiked hair on a cinder block head that didn't have a neck but was rather looked cemented onto a structure that was a square and solid as small brick house. "Who are you?" I asked. "Jakua, of Sweden. Gerald says he needs to see you right away." This was news I wanted to hear, or at least certain parts of me wanted to hear. I wanted so much to tell him to go away, but couldn't. I was hungry. I could feel Gerald's cock on my lips. "Hello?" asked the beefy voice on the other side of the door? "Alright, alright," I said, trying not sound too anxious. I opened the door there was Jakua, a mountain of muscle, a little smaller than Gerald, but harder, more compressed somehow, dense. He looked bullet proof, as sturdy and immovable as a mail box bolted to the sidewalk. What was surprising were the beefy women standing behind him, one blond, one brunette, faces flushed with a little acne from steroids. (Just guessing about the 'roids, but it makes sense.) The brunette said: "he's the one!" and pointed at me. "I am?" I said. Jakua and his muscular femmes walked inside uninvited, closed the door and locked it. I was now officially scared. "How can I help you?" I asked. The blond (fairly pretty but brutish compared to my Sasha) fingered the pendant I still wore, the flower Gerald had given me. "He's wearing it," she said. "The pendant." "I'm in the room," I said, getting annoyed and even more frightened. "Could you please tell me what's going on?" Jakua spoke. "I don't believe in magic fairly tales, but my friends seem to think Gerald is winning today because of you, because you gave him something." "I didn't give him anything!" I said. "We know you did," said the brunette. "We heard everything, and even got a few peeks through the window. You sucked his cock as part of a spell. You gave him part of your masculinity. I'm a witch, and I know what you and Gerald are doing." "I didn't!" "Then why are you whining like a girl?" asked the blond. "And how did your face become so clear and delicate. Your look like a young boy or a young woman, a little of both yet neither." "Jakua," the brunette said. "It can't hurt anything. We should try." "Try what?" I asked. "I don't really want to," Jakua said. "He looks like a sissy, not a girl. I don't think I can." "You just let us make her pretty then," blond said. "Would you all please leave before I scream," I said, which wasn't exactly a masculine thing to say. The brunette grabbed my arms and pinned them behind me. I yelled, but only for a second. Jakua shoved a tennis ball in mouth, corking me. Next, the blond produced a bottle of ether and a cloth. She soaked the cloth and pressed it to my nose. It was sickly sweet, then the world faded to black. I woke up. Things didn't feel right. I felt like I was being squeezed, especially through my rib cage and tummy. Everything below my chest felt tight, compressed. I couldn't move my arms and legs, quickly discovering that I was tied down to a bed in the hotel, legs spread and arms reaching above me, my best impression of the letter X. Consciousness lit up the dusty corners of my brain and I opened my eyes to discover two huge white mountains in front of me. I lifted my head from the mattress (they hadn't even bothered to give me a pillow), and saw my giant tits, which were underneath a white cotton school-girl blouse, complete with a school's regal coat of arms stitched on the left pocket resting on the peak of my left breast. They weren't actually my tits. I could feel the pressure of elastic and padding on my chest. The tits had a lovely heft to them, and swayed slightly when I moved. I figured they must have been either cheap water balloons are expensive silicon inserts. Either way, it was disturbing and oddly delightful to see them there. Then I remembered my predicament. I was tied to a bed, and seemed to be dressed as a school girl. By leaning my head to the side, I could see the short red-and-black plaid skirt, very short. I could see the lace tops of my white thigh high stockings. On my feet were shoes that resembled the black patent mary janes school girls wear, with a thin strap across the arch of the foot, but these shoes had cruel 5-inch heels. I wasn't going to do a lot of walking with those things on. I had to admit, they were very sexy. Whoever dressed me wanted a cross between a school girl and stripper. They had turned me into a cliché, that object of desire every man yearns for, and innocent with the potential for animal lust. I could feel the wig on my head, and smell the make up on my face. I wanted to get a look at myself, but there was no mirror around. By turning my head enough, I figured out that the wig was raven black and the hair was straight, a little longer than shoulder length and curled just a bit at the end. I guessed it was a Betty Page kind of wig, with short, straight bangs cut just above my eyebrows. There was a curious pressure in my groin, and I still couldn't figure out why I was having trouble breathing. Then it struck me. I must have been wearing a corset and a panty girdle, the corset cutting my waist in and the panty girdle pressing my cock up into me to no doubt create a girlish illusion between my legs. That goof Jakua said he'd wanted a girl, not a boy, or a sissy, as I recalled more clearly. It would seem that I had become that girl for him. And he wanted what I gave Gerald. That's what really scared me. I didn't want to be forced to do anything, and I didn't want that pig's cock in my mouth, and I really didn't want to be part of another bit of magical nonsense. These strongmen must have choked their brains with muscle if they thought magic was real, that they could take my masculinity and use it to lift heavy objects. What a ridiculous thought. The blond walked in, looking sexy and ugly at the same time, too many neck muscles, bags under her eyes, but lovely check bones and plump lips. She had a stiff black leather paddle in her hand. "Please," I said. "Just let me go. This has gone way too far..." SMACK. She slammed the paddle into my thigh, putting all her considerable strength into the effort. Pain shot through my entire body. I screamed, but soon had another tennis ball shoved in my mouth. Corked again, my screams went nowhere. The psycho bitch lifted the paddle again and swatted down onto my exposed thigh, nothing there to protect but a thin layer of nylon. "You're going to be a good girl aren't you." SMACK! "You're going to please Jakua aren't you?" SMACK! "He likes young girly girls, and you're going to be one for him aren't you?" SMACK! With each smack, I jerked against my bonds like I was being jolted with electricity. The initial shock of pain was followed by an intense heat that seemed to sizzle the fronts of my thighs. Tears rolled down my cheeks. It was the only protest I was allowed. The sadistic bitch was a terror. She enjoyed hurting me. I could see it in her eyes with each swat. She stopped giving me orders and just whipped me for a while, up and down my legs, that leather paddle not missing a single inch of flesh. The pain had driven me insane. It had become the only thing my brain could process, sting after sting. Finally she walked out the room, not even saying good bye. I didn't have time to savor the feeling of not being whipped long for long. A minute later Jakua and the brunette walked in. The brunette gave a nod to Jakua and he grunted what seemed like approval. He stood by the bed as the brunette sat in a chair and watched. I tried to plead with my eyes, looking as pitiful as possible, trying to appeal to whatever humanity might have been within him, but it didn't work. In fact I think it excited him. He firmly rubbed my big tits. I couldn't feel a thing, but felt ashamed and helpless just the same. He ran his large hands down my hips to the hem of my skirt, which he flipped up, exposing my now smooth crotch, pressed flat by the thin shiny nylon of a white panty girdle. He slid his hand to where my mound would have been had I been a girl. He gently rubbed, exerting pressure with his middle finger where my clit should have been. It actually did feel good, and after the pain of the whipping, this pleasure hit me like a wave. I moaned and Jakua chuckled. I hated that I was responding to his oafish touch, but I couldn't seem to stop it. Every nerve ending was turned to maximum sensitivity. He slowly ran his hands up and down my body exploring its false curves and the smooth shaved skin on my legs. I rose to the top of a wave of sensual pleasure that grew higher with each second. I was being touched, explored, you might even use the word worshipped. I was Jakua's fantasy and he wanted to savor it. "Just get on with it," the brunette said form her chair. "You've been hard for 15 minutes now. Let's get this over with." Jakua leaned over me and looked into my eyes. "You will be a good girl, yes?" I nodded yes. "I don't want them to hurt you anymore. Okay?" I nodded yes enthusiastically. "Just do for me what you did for Gerald. Yes?" I nodded and found myself wanting to, once again hungry for cock, even Jakua's cock. He untied my hands and then my legs. I found it hard to move at first, aches dancing in my shoulders and hips, muscles sore from the hours of pulling against my bonds. Jakua took my hand and help me to sit up, then unsteadily stand. I leaned on his sturdy form and marveled at how solid he felt, how lovely it was to lean on his strength.. He lead me across the room to a large chair. "Kneel," he said. I did so. He dropped his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. His bulge, sheathed in Calvin Klein boxers, was right in front of my face. My mouth watered. "Remove my underwear using just your teeth," he said. I leaned in, pressed my face to his rock-hard abdomen, lumpy and tight, skin stretch tight across fist-sized rocks. I opened my mouth and caught the waist band with my front teeth and bit. I pulled down until my head was between his feet. The sight of the floor and his feet made me feel incredibly submissive and weak, and oddly peaceful. There was a comfort I didn't expect in being controlled so thoroughly. He stepped out of the underwear and sat in the chair. "Ask to suck my cock," he said. "And you better sound like a real girl. If I get soft before I cum, you will be whipped again." I had never tried to sound like a sexy girl before, but I had to try. I couldn't take another punishment. With a high pitched, overly girlish, and even lisping a little, I asked, "Can I please suck your pretty cock? Your girly wants sooooo much to suck your cock!" "Yes slut. Suck me." I attacked it with a hunger that surprised him, and me. I was all over it, kissing, licking, sucking. I had no restraint. I felt out of control, mad for this man's tool. The brunette got up and stood next to Jakua. "Before you cum, picture the girl you want this slut to be. Picture everything about her." "Yessss," Jakua said in barely more than a moan. "Now picture the masculinity leaving this slut and entering you. It is a blue light, traveling from the slut, though her mouth and into you through your cock. Picture it. Feel it flowing into you, strengthening you." "Yesssssssssss," Jakua said. His balls were rocking hard and ready to squirt. I wanted soooooo much to swallow. "Cum now," she said. His cock spurted into the back of my throat and I sucked it all down, soooo starved for that peculiar flavor. It tasted soooooo good. The room began to spin. I felt weak, sleepy. An image filled my mind. It wasn't the beautiful blond ice princess that Gerald had pictured, but a little girl, maybe 12, a thin bony frame with just the beginning of womanhood's curves. The only thing out of place were the giant tits on her. She was a pre-teenager with a tragically advanced rack of mammary glands. She was sharply pretty, with big eyes, and fluffy crimson lips. This was Jakua's image of the girl I should become, and for a few seconds, I felt as if I was her, her identity branding my brain. The room spun and I fell to the floor, wishing it would stop. Once again, blackness came. TO BE CONTINUED |
