The Boy Nanny

by Kelly Ann Rogers

 

Part 2

 

Chapter 5: Summertime's for Growing Up

I missed the spring, when the dogwoods and cherry trees flower in Central Park, because I was in bed recovering. By the middle of May, however, I was equipped with a cute new face and a very slim but rather curvy little body. Although I was weaker than ever, I was ready to go. Sheila and Amanda had planned my summer for me, and I wasn't going to spend it at the beach in the Hamptons. I still had too much to learn.

First, I was signed up to work for Sheila's hair dresser. "You need to know how to fix a young girl's hair if you are going to be her nanny," Sheila explained, "and Amanda's hair as well, so you can take care of her properly." So I became a part-time apprentice to Roberto, at his rather upscale salon on Columbus Avenue.

At first, I was treated as a worthless, albeit decorative teenager. I answered the phones and swept the floor. I was now dressed in a more trendy way, but still with short skirts, tight tops, and heels. I especially liked a pair of chunky, high heeled Maryjanes that made me feel very stylish. One of the operators instructed me as I did my own hair first thing in the morning, and then I sat up front, acting as receptionist and gofer for most of the day. But during the second week, I was taught to wash hair, and then to roll it, dry it, and blow it out. Combined with the lessons Mrs. Spinner had given me, I became pretty good pretty quickly. The operators soon came to appreciate the help I was able to give them.

While at Roberto's I also got intensive lessons in makeup. It's one thing to put it on yourself, another to do someone else. I became proficient at both, and, just like I had under Mrs. Spinner's tutelage, I changed my face, or did one of the staff's, several times a day. I learned I had a good eye for color and shading. I kept trying to figure out what Tommy might like and decided to make myself look more mature, figuring he didn't want to go out (go out!?) with a kid.

I learned something else in that salon too. Roberto found me in the storeroom early on the third morning, as I was beginning to stock the workstations for the day. I had stopped for a moment to check my lipstick. This was now a well ingrained habit, thanks to the way Mrs. Spinner's used her crop on the backs of my thighs when I didn't keep myself perfectly groomed. Fact is, I looked terribly cute. I had on a short, red tartan plaid skirt, white knee socks and penny loafers. On top I had a twin set in soft, white, angora. It consisted of a slightly cropped, sleeveless top with a scoop neck cardigan. I had a matching white ribbon in my hair.

As I stood at the mirror, lip pencil in hand, the cardigan slipped off my shoulder, leaving it deliciously bare. Actually, I was practicing, letting the shoulder slip and then trying to slide it back up to look sexy. I was searching for the move that makes men pant; innocent and provocative at the same time. Sheila thought she was embarrassing me by sending me out in provocative clothes, and here I was trying to look even sexier. Hey! I was a teenage girl, what do you expect?

As I looked in the mirror, pouting at myself to be sure the pencil line I was making on my lower lip was even, Roberto appeared suddenly, with a strange look on his face. As I turned, he simply stepped forward, pinning my back to the mirror, and kissed me hard.

"Listen Missy," he sneered, "you do what I want or I expose your little charade. Then I'll tell Sheila that you won't cooperate. I hear she's just dying to find an excuse to take you to one of those meat market bars on 10th Avenue. A sweet little boy like you, dressed all femmy," he flicked at my skirt, "won't last 10 minutes before some big old brute stuffs his fat prick up your ass."

I had sort of forgotten that I was a 24_year_old male, and I was strangely offended to have Roberto remind me. I struggled briefly, but he was far too strong for my now feeble body. He reached under my skirt and grabbed my dick through my panties, pulling painfully at both rings,

"I'll yank this off, you little bitch. Stop struggling!" He gave another brief yank. "I want you to change our attitude, now! I want that hot little valley girl inside you to beg for my cock, and then I want you to suck it like it was the most important thing in the world to you!" My eyes got wide for a second as I tried to understand what he was saying. Smack! Right across the face. "Now!" he growled and pushed me down.

I cowered in front of him, on my knees. I was stunned, more from the situation than the slap. Events had overtaken me. I was a powerless teenage girl. Worse, I was a boy, who was a powerless teenage girl. Thoughts of how I had forced Amanda down on her couch rushed into my head as humiliation roared up within me. I was overcome with remorse now that I understood how Amanda must have felt as I betrayed her trust with my own strength and need for sexual domination. I started to cry. What a worthless sack of shit I am. I have nothing to lose. He wants a valley girl? He's got one.

I straightened myself, wiping the tears with the back of my hand. "Can I, like, please, like, suck your dick, Mr. Roberto, sir?" I peeked up from under my eyelashes before raising my face toward his with my most pleading look. "I know it will be like, just sooo yummy. I do so want to, like, lick and kiss and like fondle it. Please Mr. Roberto, can I like take it out now? I don't want to wait any more." And I pouted like a six year-old who didn't get her ice cream.

"Now we're making progress," he taunted, "of course you can suck it Ashley, sweetie. I would never keep you from having something you want so much. My sweet little pansy."

Stung with the shame of being called pansy, I lifted both my hands to his crotch, fingers spread on either side of his penis. My nails were really red this morning and they somehow looked right being there. I brushed his covered penis with my nails and watched it grow. Wow, did I do that? I turned my head sideways and planted a kiss right over the head, which was pointing almost straight up.

"Take the zipper down with your teeth," he ordered, breathing more quickly now.

I moved the flap of his fly with my lips to uncover the zipper, lifted the tab up by working my tongue under it, and grabbed it with my teeth. His pants were tight; it took me a number of tries to get the fucking thing down, and because I was rubbing my mouth all over his dick while I was working, it kept getting harder. Once I had the zipper down, I started to work on his belt. But Roberto couldn't wait. He pushed my head away and quickly unbuckled his belt and the top button of his slacks, and let the pants fall to his knees. He was wearing black nylon jockeys that were bulging with his erection. I licked its maybe six inch length with my whole tongue flattened hard against it. He moaned.

I reached up and pulled his underpants down and his erection started to swing out into my face. I lurched up before it came all the way out from his body, and grabbed it with my lips, sucking it in as if my life depended on it. I slid my hands up the backs of his thighs until I was cradling his ass. Then I pulled myself up and licked all around the head with my tongue. His precum tasted salty as I tried to stick my tongue right into the tip of his penis as if I wanted more. I tentatively tried to draw more and more of his penis into my mouth while I licked and sucked. After sliding it in and out only three or four times, Roberto grabbed my head and pushed. I gagged and he backed off a little. Then he came. Just like that. I swallowed some of his cum, and some ran out of my mouth and down my chin.

His dick quickly softened and he ordered me to lick it clean. I licked it from the base to the tip a couple of times and then concentrated on swirling my tongue around the tip for a few moments. "That's enough," he pushed me away. "Get cleaned up and go back to work." The whole episode couldn't have taken even three minutes. I wiped his cum off my chin with my fingers as he walked away. All I could do was sigh, fix my hair, and lipstick, and go back to work.

I never told anyone what happened, and he fucked my face almost every morning after that. I made believe I was like the many other women whose bosses had used their power to demand sex, but who felt too ashamed or trapped to admit it. Like many of them, I blamed myself. The good news is that he could barely last a minute before he came, so I was always done quickly. It even made me feel a little superior to him, in a deluded kind of way.

The bad news is that it made me feel like a whore again. And I got some kind of perverse pleasure from that too. I reveled in my shame. So, I tried to be "professional" with Roberto, practicing my technique and giving him a little show of moans and seductive body language, writhing around at his feet like I was in heat. This wasn't a whole lot different from what I used to do for the women who took me out. Except, of course, that with the women I was engaged in normal heterosexual sex and this was more like . . . , like . . . , what else can you call it, homosexual sex. Well, it wasn't like homosexual sex, it was homosexual sex, and I did my best to act like I enjoyed it. I told you that I was a good actor.

I didn't say a word to anyone because I felt sure that Sheila had given Roberto permission to do this and because I believed that I deserved what was happening to me. I was a victim now, and being a victim was restorative for me. For months I had been consumed with guilt because of what I had done to Amanda. Being punished like this helped to relieve that guilt. This was another component of my penance.

At 2:00 on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, I went to cooking school. Actually, it was more like a school of culinary arts. This was fancy stuff, advanced techniques in kitchen skills my mother had never even heard of. Here I wasn't the frivolous teenager. I took this seriously, and I loved it because they took me seriously. They worked with lots of people in "domestic service," so I wasn't really a novelty, except maybe for my apparent age. But I am smart, and Mrs. Spinner had already taught me many basic techniques. I learned quickly, and I flirted with the teacher in a sophisticated way that he enjoyed. He was nice enough to flirt back without doing anything else. So, all in all, things went fine. By the end of the summer, I could have cooked in the restaurant where I used to wait tables.

At 4:00 was dance class. When Sheila told me I would be going I was elated. I had been working out again with Tommy and my body felt fine, although I was much weaker than I used to be. At 5'6" and now 115 pounds though, I was very trim and athletic looking. My tits (yummy) where growing along with my hips, but I was a long way from what you would call "womanly." The studio was up the street from Lincoln Center where I had trained before. Then it hit me.

"I can't go there," I stammered, always afraid to question Sheila. "Aunt Sheila, please, I used to dance there when I was . . . was . . ."

She cocked an eyebrow at me questioningly, but I couldn't say it. "A man?" She finished for me. I reddened with shame and broke down in tears. God, I cry like a baby at the least little thing.

She laughed, "Yes, you did, and I hope your friends there remember you!" She smiled at me brilliantly." I do so hope they'll make fun of you. But dancing again was your most fervent wish. I've arranged it, and you're going! And I'm sure you'll love it, won't you?" She cocked her head and arched that same eyebrow at me.

"Oh! Yes Aunt Sheila!" I lit up with forced glee despite the dread in my heart. I knew the look on her face all too well. "I'll. . . like. . . just love it. It's . . . like the best thing that could like happen, like, ya know? Like, for me?" I took a deep breath, feeling a little less panicky than a few moments ago. Falling back into my teenybopper persona somehow helped me to calm down, sorta like being with a familiar friend. Oh well, I might as well get something out of this.

"I saw some darling leotards in the store last week, can I like get some new ones? And like leggings to go with them? And I need ballet slippers! What colors should I get? Pink, I want pink, and white . . . Pleeeaaaase Aunt Sheila? . . . . Pleeeaaaase?"

I stared with big round eyes, tried out my new pouty smile (I really did like the way my lips curled up in the corners now), and swayed my upper body back and forth with my feet turned in and fixed in place, like a six year-old. It always startled me when I threw myself into one of these little girly scenes. It's like I'm possessed . . . , or that I had no shame. Well, I guess I proved that already with Roberto. It's just that I'm getting so good at this 'act,' I don't even have to think to do it anymore. It's my natural response.

For her part, Sheila always loved to see me debase myself when she forced me to act so intentionally girlish. Usually she would ask, "Where's our big bad rapist now, little girl?" This time she started to laugh instead, and then hugged me. "You're so sweet Ashley. Yes we'll get you outfitted properly, and buy some adorable leotards and a darling little bag for you to carry all your things in. I just love to shop for you." And she gave me a big hug.

I'm sure she didn't realize it, but that was the first time she had shown me any emotional or physical intimacy since this whole affair had started almost six months ago. She had been a major part of my life before, and when she emotionally threw me away after I had raped Amanda, a big hole was left in my heart. Her small show of affection on that day filled my heart right back up again, so quickly it almost burst. I hugged her back like I was clinging to life itself.

And so I found myself doing hair (and being forced to give blow jobs) in the morning and dancing ballet, en pointe, in the afternoon. I had variety in my humiliations. Like most ballet classes, this one was almost all girls, nine of them. But there were three young men in this class as well; it's just that one of them, me to be exact, was on of the girls. For the first class, I showed up in a pink leotard, white tights, and pink toe shoes. I had matching ribbons and barrettes in my hair, and although it was pulled back, Sheila demanded that I always wear it down and loose in back. The other girls, of course, were groomed for function. They wore their long hair up in tight buns or pinned up braids.

Sheila had set everything up with the teacher ahead of time, so I was introduced as Ashley, but everyone was told who I really was. That would have been bad enough, but not bad enough for Sheila, who saw to it that I also wore a long "Juliet" skirt. It was several layers of the thinnest white organza that slipped around my waist and went down (Thank God!) to mid calf. It flared out beautifully when I turned and flounced when I raised my legs. I was by far the most feminine looking person in the class. I also had one of the biggest sets of tits; my B cup bras were very full by that point. Ballet dancers are almost all small, and they all wear sports bras. I was still in a pushup, with a low-cut leotard, so all of a sudden, I felt like I had gigantic breasts. I was so embarrassed when they jiggled and bobbled while I danced. The other girls teased me unmercifully at first. You know, those cutting little comments tossed out of the side of the mouth as we danced side by side, or when we were changing.

"Nice tits honey, they make you look sooo graceful," or, "Hope all that jiggling doesn't hurt 'em," or, "Tits on a rapist. What a good idea. Yours are just right for you. They will keep growing, won't they?"

And then there was, "What a darling little skirt, sweetie. You are decked out to attract the guys aren't you? Or is it Janey, the redheaded dyke over there you're after?"

Janey had her own reason to look down on me, "What kind of faggot are you? You try to be a girl but you're not one everybody knows it. You're pitiful."

But after a couple of weeks most of the nastiness stopped. First, I think they just got bored, especially because I never rose to their bait. Second, my dancing improved rather rapidly, once I got the hang of the posture and lines required of female dancers, and once my feet got used to all the toe dancing.

At first, simply because she wanted to humiliate me, the ballet mistress worked especially hard with me on my feminine presentation and movements. And even though I wasn't really in the same league as the best of the other girls, I was pretty graceful before too long. And then, she began to enjoy teaching me because I actually listened to her and tried to learn what she was teaching. I threw myself into it. Being forced to be a girl was bad enough. But if I had to be one, I certainly didn't want to look like a boy in a dress, or a tutu, to be more exact. Besides, I had already learned that by throwing myself into my role, I could actually get some enjoyment out of it. I needed approval in ballet class just as I did in the rest of my life. If I had to get it by being the best female dancer I could be, so be it.

I guess that after a few weeks I just became another person in the class. Although I sometimes longed to dance some of the boy parts, just dancing was enough for me. I simply loved it, I adored it, I cherished it. There is a real thrill and a visceral sense of freedom in using your body in an athletic way, throwing yourself into a movement and feeling the joy of completing properly. So, unlike the other girls, who just wanted to get through practice with the least amount of effort, so they wouldn't get exhausted or hurt themselves, I threw my whole heart into it. I always tried hard. I think they admired me for that too.

Then, there were the guys. One was obviously gay. But strangely, both seemed to be attracted to me. Since I always tried so hard, they both wanted to partner me, which drove the other girls a little nuts. So I figured what the hell, the girls had been mean to me, why not I rub it in a little. I started to flirt gently with both the boys. I was subtle at first, but when Brent, the straight one, started rubbing his hands on me, I picked up my own level of enthusiasm a little. And the strangest thing happened, Jared, the gay one, who was much better looking than Brent, got jealous. He started to compete for my attentions. I wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it was kind of fun.

So that's how things went as we moved into the second half of June. I was learning to do hair, nails, and makeup at Roberto's. Oh, and I had become a really good cocksucker by then. Once I learned that he couldn't control himself, I started to do everything I could to get him to cum as quickly as possible. I started to time myself. I once got him off in less than 50 seconds. I didn't really understand why, but I felt kind of proud of myself. And what did it mean if I felt proud of myself for giving good head?

More normally, I was learning to cook, which I now thoroughly enjoyed, and some of my dinners brought me the most wonderful praise from Sheila, Amanda, and the others. Plus, I was allowed to dance. I was still Sheila's attentive, deferential personal maid on the evenings she was home alone, the demure, submissive dinner companion when Amanda visited, and Mrs. Spinner's assistant house keeper all the rest of the time. But things weren't that bad; they had almost settled into a comfortable pattern.

Chapter 6: The Darkness Before the Dawn

Then, toward the end of June, everything changed. Jared and Brent had talked me into walking by Jared's apartment on the way back from class one evening. I never went anywhere after class because Sheila wanted me right home. I had long ago given up the idea of running away, but she couldn't really be sure, so I was on a very short leash. I still don't know what possessed me to break her rules that night. Teenage girls should listen to their parents.

Once we were there, they sort of cajoled and dragged me upstairs. Once the door was closed, however, they didn't waste a moment.

"You know, Ashley," said Brent, his voice hardening rapidly, "Jared and I have been arguing for weeks about which one of us you really like better. Cause if you like me, then you're a straight girl, but if you like Jared, that means you're a gay guy."

"Uhh, well, you know guys . . . ."

"Shut up you stupid bitch." That was Jared." We're fucking tired of your teasing and we decided to figure this out our own way. We're both going to fuck you and see which one of us gets you hotter. He advanced on me as he spoke. I started to back up, but Brent had stepped behind me, and as I bumped into his chest, he reached around and grabbed my tits. . . . hard. He started to pinch my nipples and I screamed.

Smack! "I said shut up you stupid bitch!" It was Jared again and he was angry. Worse, he now had a knife. He waved it in my face and I shut my mouth, even though tears were running down my face from his slap. He turned the knife so the cutting edge of the blade was facing away from me, slipped it into the top of my leotard and cut the fabric right down to my crotch.

"You gonna get the rest of your fucking clothes off or you want me to finish" He was flushed and breathing hard. He cut my bra off. As my tits dropped free, he grabbed the left nipple and twisted.

"Ahhhh," I screamed again.

Smack!! He hit me again and I fell down, sobbing.

"All right," shouted Brent, "I came here to get laid, not beat the shit out of anyone. Stop hitting her." Jared flared up at him for a moment and then calmed down.

"Fuckin' A," said Jared, "Let's get laid. You ready to cooperate, bitch?"

I nodded my head, sobbing quietly, and slowly started to pull my now shredded leotard down my legs. As soon as it was off, Jared grabbed me by the wrist, tore my tights and panties down, saw my locked up dick, and started to laugh. "That's fucking pathetic. You must be a fucking girl. No guy would let that happen to him." He threw me over the arm of his sofa, which, thankfully, was padded, and pulled his pants down.

"Wait, I shouted, at least let me get you wet. You don't want to hurt your dick do you? I g. . . give good head?"

"Offering to give head, huh?" I guess you might be worth something after all." He pushed me onto the floor and sat on the couch. "Get on all fours, crawl over her and get to work."

His prick was a lot thicker than Roberto's and a little longer. I was hoping that if I brought him off with my mouth, he might not be able to get it up again to fuck me. I wanted to bring him off fast and get this over with, so I went right to work. I licked him up and down to get the whole shaft wet and then ran the tip of my tongue around the head a few times, like I did with Roberto. The skin was silky soft, but musky as hell. After a couple of short tentative strokes into my mouth, I suddenly drove the whole thing all the way in and as far down my throat as it would go. He went nuts.

"Aaaah, aaah, ah. . . , you fuckin' bitch, you been holding out." He looked up at Brent, who was behind me. "She swallowed the whole fucking thing in one move. She's a pro! She's a fucking pro! Aaaaaahh!" I had done it again. I was trying to gain control, but he wasn't going to let that happen.

"Do it my way bitch!" He grabbed my head and started fucking my face. I could barely breathe as I heard the squishing sounds of his dick being pulled from my mouth only to be jammed in again a moment later. He changed the rhythm and he changed the depth. He kept it up for quite a while. Jared was not Roberto.

By now, I had my hands on his thighs for balance as I knelt with my ass on my heels, my tights and panties around my ankles. I almost bit Jared's cock when Brent grabbed my hips and lifted my ass into the air. I started to panic and tried to yell, but nothing came out but muffled moans. I was going to get fucked and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I guess I should be thankful he lubricated both of us. But when he pushed his dick into my ass, it felt like a hot poker. I screamed again into Jared's cock. He laughed and said, "Oooh that's good baby, do it again."

"Relax, you stupid bitch," grunted Brent, who had his back arched and his head back as he pushed into me. I don't care whether I split you open or not, but you'll feel a lot better if I don't." So instead of concentrating on the prick in my mouth, I concentrated on the one about to enter my asshole. You can relax it if you have to, even if it hurts. The burning sensation never really went away, but as he pushed into me, and then started to stroke, the pain started to lessen.

After a few moments I was panting with the effort, and every time Brent pushed in I grunted. Jared must have decided he liked that rhythm, because he fell in time with it. He buried himself to the hilt at the same time Brent did. I thought the two cocks would meet somewhere in the middle of my body they were pushing so hard. I was completely at their mercy, just trying to breathe.

Brent came first, grunting and stiffening and losing his timing. I couldn't really feel him cum, but all of a sudden, things got way more slippery. "I thought you would never finish said Jared, pulling his prick out of my mouth and pushing me to the floor. The man's staying power was amazing. "Put your face on the floor and your ass in the air. Time to finish your test, bitch." I can already see that Brent doesn't have what it takes to satisfy a slut like you." And he mounted me. He grabbed my tits after a few moments and pumped away.

I just wanted it over now and tried to excite him by twisting my ass and clenching the muscles around my rectum. "I knew you'd love it, you bitch," he shouted as soon as he realized what I was doing. "Keep it up. Let's see if you can make me cum." So I did. And before too long he did.

As his dick shrank back out of my ass, he pushed me away and I fell to the floor exhausted and in pain. I was afraid they weren't done with me, so I started to sob. "They'll be looking for me; they'll be looking for me."

"They'll find you when we're done with you," sneered Jared.

"Well I'm done," said Brent. He had already put his pants back on. I can see the bitch is gay by the way she worked to get you off." He spit at me.

'Sore loser,' I thought.

"Oh shit," mumbled Jared, what fucking time is it? I have to get to work. Get dressed and get out of here, you slut. I could tell you loved it. We're doing this again. Soon!"

'No fucking way,' I thought, looking at him in wonder. He must have thought it was a look of desire.

"Yeah, I can see it in your face, you loved it."

Are all men so stupid? I hobbled to the bathroom and cleaned myself as best I could. I stuffed some toilet paper in my ass to stop the leaking and the bleeding. I pulled my tights up, they were a mess, but I didn't have any others. I put on a light pull over top. It barely covered my ass. I hobbled out the door without a word.

I staggered from Jared's apartment to the elevator. But while it descended, I managed to get enough control over myself so that I was able to get a cab to take me back to Sheila's. The doorman looked at me aghast, as I staggered past him as quickly as I could. He must have called Sheila because by the time I got to the door, she was waiting. I was very late; she was really pissed off. She started to shout at me as soon as I had gotten the door part way open.

"You stupid little twit, where the fuck have you. . . ?" Then she saw me. "Oh my god, what happened to you?" She saw the bruises on my face. "Oh no, someone beat you!" Her expression turned from anger to surprise to concern in about two seconds.

I collapsed into her arms, breaking down in tears. "They raped me, I wailed through my tears. They both raped me."

"Oh my poor baby, oh my poor, poor baby, Come with me let me help you." She led me to my bed and checked me out. It didn't take too long for her to find my poor torn asshole. She patted it clean with a warm wash cloth, put me in a short nighty and panties with a liner, which she of course had to fetch from her own bathroom. She sat with me for a few moments, stroking my hair.

"I'll be right back." She returned a few minutes later and put an ice pack on my left cheek and then continued to clean and comfort me. Amanda showed up about ten minutes later, and Abigail Pierce shortly after that with her black bag. I didn't even know doctors still carried those things. Awhile after that, Brenda McLain, a lawyer friend arrived as well.

By then, I had calmed down. I wasn't crying anymore, because I had fallen out of my Ashley persona, dropped back into my male self, and withdrawn. I was being stoic. Plus, I was angry. I knew in my heart these women had caused this to happen to me, and I didn't want to open myself up to them emotionally, certainly not now.

Abigail checked carefully, inside and out, and put something into my rectum. "You'll be OK Ashley. It will just take a few days. I put a suppository in your rectum to soothe it, and I'll give you something to help you sleep. Would you tell us, who did this?"

I didn't even look up. "Who did it? Are you fucking crazy?" My voice was rising so quickly it cracked. "You stupid bitch, you and your fucked up friends did it. Look at me. I'm pitiful. I've lost 30 pounds, I've no muscles left, and look what you did to my cock. You ruined it! You set me up with Brent and Jared, just like you did with Roberto."

"Roberto?" All four shouted at once, obviously surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh give me a fucking break!" I winced, the bruises on my face objecting to my shouted sarcasm. "You know damn well he's been forcing me to give him head. He fucks my face every fucking morning and told me you'd put me to work on 10th Avenue if I complained. Don't try to tell me you didn't fucking give me to him! You fucking gave him permission and you know it!" By then I was screeching, oblivious to the pain. But as soon as I stopped shouting, I broke down into tears again.

"No Ashley, we didn't." Sheila's calm, but firm voice cut through my sobbing. "We never would have done that. We intended to punish you, not let other people rape you. That's what you did to Amanda, or did you forget?" I could hear Amanda somewhere else in the room. She was crying too.

"That's fucking bull shit and you know it!" I shouted back. "I may have overstepped my bounds with Amanda, but I never hurt her, or hit her or pulled a knife on her, or threatened to give her away to perverts. That's what you did to me!"

"Well welcome to fucking womanhood," shouted Amanda. "Now you know how I felt, fucking powerless while you did what you wanted."

"OOHHHH," I wailed, remembering her eyes when I wouldn't stop, and my own fear when Jared waved his knife in my face. I cried in great heaving sobs, now having a hard time breathing.

"Yes, now we both know how the other feels, you selfish shit! You ruined it for both of us." She started to cry. . . "And I'm so sorry." She wrapped her own arms around her chest and her tears ran freely now, "I can. . . never . . . . forgive myself for . . . for . . . what happened to you."

"Oh honey," Brenda was at her side, her arm around Amanda's shoulder," you didn't do anything to him. You can feel sorry for him if you need to," she cast a withering glance in my direction. "But don't ever blame yourself for what happened."

I was truly startled so I backed off, "Maybe Jared wouldn't have hit me and threatened me with a knife if you had set me up," I conceded quietly, "He wouldn't have had to." Amanda and I looked at each other with sad eyes.

"And at least you're not pregnant," Brenda hissed, stalking from the room. I deflated quickly, my anger dissipating as the awareness of my own failures arose to take its place. The male stoic fled in the heart beat it took for that to happen. I began to cry again.

"I'm sorry," I wailed, "I'm sorry." They had me totally helpless. I had just been raped, and I was crying that I was sorry. Not only had I become a woman and a victim, but I was blaming myself too.

"OK, Ashley goes to sleep." I felt a needle pierce my arm. Amanda came over to the side of the bed.

"May I sit with you until you fall asleep?" She caressed my hair. I just nodded and closed my eyes. A moment later, I opened them. "I wish I could comfort you too." I sobbed for a while, regretting all the things I had lost. Then I fell asleep.

Chapter 7: A New Day and other treats

My rape was a watershed. Afterwards, Sheila began to treat me like a daughter and the others like a favored niece. Amanda was both solicitous and anxious. I was still a teenage girl, but no longer one to be demeaned or belittled. Quite the contrary, everyone, even Mrs. Spinner, seemed to be looking out for me and trying to reassure me. They let me dress a little more demurely. They didn't demand that I flounce around so much. I got a lot more affection and support, less criticism for little things. I guess they sort of treated me like a regular kid. As my rectum healed, my emotions started to even out a little. My natural cheerfulness started to return and the once-enforced chirpiness started to reassert itself on its own, much to my embarrassment.

I was really lost now. During the time I had been forced to act like a girl, and been punished when I failed to do it right, I could accept what was happening without too much guilt. After all, I wasn't in control. Now . . . , I didn't know what was going on. No one was forcing me, but I was behaving like their little girl anyway. I was an emotional wreck (who wouldn't be!), and really needed the support of all these people who had been hell bent on feminizing me. I didn't have the energy or courage to defy them. I took the path of least resistance; I no longer had any will to fight back.

But, I never had to go back to Roberto's shop, which I heard had closed shortly after my rape. By the time I was ready to dance again, my class had disbanded, so I decided to take some time off from that. I continued with my cooking classes and worked out at home to tapes that Tommy got for me.

In the middle of July, Sheila decided to take Amanda to the beach for a long weekend. Mrs. Spinner was away too, so I was left with Tommy, who was to keep an eye on me. I straightened the apartment after they left and eventually found Tommy sitting in the kitchen, reading one of his ever present exercise physiology books. I was putting the cleaning supplies back under the sink when he spoke. I couldn't believe what he had said.

"Would I what?" I blurted out. I admit that I was confused a lot of the time, who wouldn't be? Seven months ago I was a young man on the make, now I'm a teenage girl who can't do enough to please her "Aunt Sheila and Mistress Amanda." I'm so chirpy and cheerful I could puke. But I'm pretty sure I hadn't been having any auditory hallucinations yet. Still, I couldn't quite believe what I'd just heard.

"Could you, like, please, like, say that again . . . like, please?" I stared at Tommy like he had just arrived from another planet, pausing with my hand still by my ear as I pushed my hair back away from my face. The longer it got, the more it fell in my face, but Sheila insisted I wear it loose most of time. She wanted me constantly fussing with it. It was almost to my shoulders now; I had to fuss with it every time I moved my head.

Tommy looked back at me gently, he was always gentle with me, but he was clearly amused at my response. "Would you go out to dinner with me tonight? And then we can go for a drink, or dancing, or . . ."

"But, but . . . Sheil. . ."

"Sheila says it's OK." He overrode the beginning of my objection. And I knew from the way he said it, that what he meant was that Sheila wanted me to do this.

"Well, like . . . for real?" I was stalling, trying to figure out what was going on. Tommy had just asked me to go out to dinner, and I didn't have any real choice but to obey. So, I let my reflexes kick in, which by now had me in my teenage girl's persona, which of course had me agreeing to anything Sheila wanted with enthusiasm. This was a well learned lesson. It didn't matter what I thought, if Sheila or Amanda wanted me to do it, I wanted to do it, like a lot.

"That would be, like, like way cool. Like, no one ever takes me out to do anything." What did I say? Tommy was asking me out on a date, and I didn't go out for dates with guys. And besides, all the guys I'd had anything to do with recently had raped me one way or another. Did this mean it was Tommy's turn now?

"Good, he said earnestly, I was hoping you would say yes." How could he sound so sincerely pleased and look so grateful about me agreeing to do something I had no choice about? I was still staring at him like he was from outer space, when he brought me back to reality.

"It's 6:30 now. We'll leave in an hour. Look sophisticated. I don't want to be seen out with a kid." He turned to leave the kitchen, but stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. "And drop the dopey lingo, I'm not Sheila, and she's not here. I want to go out with you. Try acting your age, like a young woman who doesn't want to be mistaken for a school girl."

"Uhhhh," I was truly befuddled now, "OK. Sure, I'll be ready in an hour . . . Sooner if you want," I blurted out. God, I hated it when I tried so hard to please people, even when I didn't want to.

"An hour will be fine Ashley. And close your mouth; it's been hanging open long enough. I'm going to show you how a real man treats a date." And then he winked at me! I must have looked like a dimwit. I certainly felt like one.

What the fuck was going on here? He said he wanted to go out on a date with me. Who the hell was "me" anyway? I'd been force fed teenage girl for so long now, that I could barely remember the guy who had gotten himself into this disaster by raping someone he really liked. And now this guy, who has only known me as a little girl toddler and bubble-headed teen age princess, wants to go out with me? And I have to act my age, like a young woman? I've never been a young woman. How the hell does a young woman act?

I had a flashback. I was six years old and spinning round and round on the swing behind the Roosevelt Avenue School trying to get dizzy. When the swing stopped, I got off. Now that I was standing still, the world started to spin. For a moment I could see my old red brick school building tilt onto its side and slide away up into the sky. The school, of course, didn't go anywhere. Instead it had been me who had tilted to the side and slid away. I was too dizzy to stand and had fallen over sideways. A second later I had smacked my head on the ground. Now, walking back to my room, I felt like the world was tilting and sliding again. Even though I wasn't dizzy, I grabbed the door handle to keep from falling. As I regained my balance, I suddenly realized that I had to be ready to go out on a dinner date in an hour and I didn't have a clue about what to wear! Oh Shit!

What was I going to do? Up until now, someone had always told me what to wear. And since I was only 14 or 15 (Who could tell? I'd never had a birthday as a girl). I had been working really hard to look, to look, well . . . , young. Now I was supposed to be sophisticated. What the hell did that look like?

Without really thinking about it, I wandered over to the closet and opened it. I should have known. This too had been planned. There was a garment bag hanging on the back of the closet door. A shoe box was on the floor beneath it. As I pulled the bag out, I saw an envelope attached to the zipper. It was Amanda's stationary. I kicked my shoes off, sat on the floor with my legs curled under me (just like a dumb teenager), and tore open the letter. Definitely Amanda.

Dear Ashley,

Or, I would so much more like to say, "My dearest Ashley." Tonight is an important one for you. Your first date! Tommy has been waiting for this for so long. Think about it for a minute. He has cared for you since your punishment began. He's been a perfect gentleman the whole time. At first, that is what we paid him to be. But Sheila and I didn't anticipate what was going to happen.

First, you have become so adorable! Oh my darling Ashley, you were always sweet, even when . . . , well . . . , when you were a man. We all cared for you, until you broke my heart with your hateful behavior. So, when your lovable personality started to reemerge in a girlish way, it was no surprise that Tommy started to care for you. We all did, even though we had promised you to Tommy from the outset. That was supposed to be part of your punishment.

I guess we could have predicted how it's turned out, but we didn't. We made you into a girl, and you expressed that by flirting with the only person who was being nice to you. You're so charming, just like you used to be, and a little bit sluttish too, just irresistible! He started to just adore you. We wanted him to fuck you, of course, to get even with you for what you did to me. But he wouldn't. He finally convinced us to let him do things his way. He was going to seal your transformation into womanhood by making love to you. You were going to love it, to adore it. You'd never want to go back.

Then you got raped and abused by Roberto. Tommy was livid, and so upset for you. And then so mad at us! He was just furious because we were going to make him rape you. He told us we were worse than you, or Roberto, or even that shit Jared. He could partially excuse you, because you were drunk when you raped me, and the others simply acted out of lust. We had planned, carefully planned, to have you raped by Tommy. He said it was cold-hearted. He was right. And he hates himself for having ever considered doing it. So, he won't touch you. That's one thing you don't have to be afraid of.

I know you're confused, but whatever else happens, do treat him nicely. He's earned that. Sheila and I will never forgive you if you hurt his feelings in any way. That's all we ask of you.

But I believe you'll want to ask more of yourself. Think about Tommy and what he means to you. He cares for you deeply, Ashley, and if your behavior is any indication of how you feel, you care for him too. Once you understand what you both mean to each other, I think you'll want to do more than just what we ask. You'll want to make love to him. How could you not?

Your mistress, Amanda

By the time I finished, I was in tears. Like, Duhhh. What else do I do these days when I'm under stress, or confused, or scared. But I better stop. I don't want my eyes to get to red! Oh shit! Oh shit. Ohhh shhhitttt. What the fuck am I going to do?

Well, I guess getting dressed would be a good idea. That might take my mind off what I was feeling. So I took the clothes out of the bag and laid them on the bed. First was the dress. I almost fainted when I saw that it was a white a halter top of the lightest fabric. It had a short, swingy skirt that barely came to mid thigh. This was definitely not the little girl look I had been cultivating under Sheila's tutelage. There were French cut stretchy white panties, sooo soft, but no bra! Oh God! My tits would be bouncing all around.

When I picked up the panties, I discovered that there was a key pinned to the crotch on the inside. I recognized it immediately. It was the key to my penis restraint. I quickly got undressed and ran to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the tub and reached under me to remove the tiny padlock that still held the head of my now shrinking dick to the ring in my perineum. I wasn't even distracted when my hair fell in my face or my tits swung forward as I bent over. I simply tossed my hair to one side and peered down though the small valley between my breasts as if I'd been doing it forever. I can't exactly say that my penis swung free when I unshackled it, it was too small to do much swinging anymore, but it didn't take me a moment to remove the jacket that had encased it for so long. I caressed myself; it had been so long. . . .

But I had no time for that now. I stood up for the first time in months without my penis being restrained. It didn't feel. . . . . . right. Well fuck it. I'm not putting that thing back on again. I threw it in the trash, turned on my heel, and headed for the bedroom. I pulled on the panties and the nude sheer-to-the-waist panty hose. Feeling a little sensuous, I slipped into an emerald green silk kimono that had been hanging in my closet, but which I had never worn. I stood up and caressed my breasts through the silk. Mmmm, that's so delicious. Starting to feel pretty good about myself, I went to do my makeup.

I sat down and looked at myself in the mirror. Who was this person? I hadn't taken (or perhaps, more accurately, hadn't been given) even a moment to reflect on that particular question for about six months. I knew that Sheila had kept me as busy as possible just to prevent me from doing too much thinking, but it had been too dangerous for me to want to do it either. I had to become a little girl, and if I had let myself wonder about who I really was, who knows what might have happened. I mean, you can't just turn a young man into a little girl without some psychic cost. And I was already a mess before this ever began.

First, I was struggling with my own failures in life. Then, I was filled with remorse and self-hatred for what I had done to Amanda. Plus, I had been drugged, punished and tormented for months, physically abused by Roberto, and finally raped. I was scared and confused. I was angry at my captors, but I desperately wanted their approval. They had systematically driven me away from my old identity and into a new one. They made sure I worked as hard as I could to become the little girl they were making me into.

Still not knowing who I was, but finding some comfort in a familiar routine, I did my makeup. Maybe a young woman would emerge with my made-up face. That's a ploy that used to work for me when I was acting. As I put on my costume and stage makeup, I inhabited my character, or he inhabited me. The difference was, when I was acting, I had always had a memorized script and well rehearsed character to inhabit. Now I was on my own. As I evened my complexion with foundation, I marveled yet again at how smooth my skin had become. The electrolysis had really worked. I cleaned up my brows with my tweezers and penciled them in. I just loved the arch they now made. Sheila had told me that they didn't do electrolysis on my brows because she wanted me to have to pluck them whenever they needed it, a little reminder of who I had been and who I had become. Like I could ever forget.

I penciled dark brown liner around both eyelids and smudged it out at the outside corners with a Q-tip. Brown eye shadow, heavier on the inside corners, then a sparkly cream up under the arch brought my eyes out even further. Then I applied mascara. I really liked mascara because I did have nice long lashes, and I especially like the way a carefully applied black made the lower ones stand out. And the thing was, when I focused on just a single feature, like my eyelashes, it didn't matter who I was, just getting the look right filled my entire consciousness. I concentrated on separating my lower lashes so each one was visible.

Then I skimmed a little blush on top of those nice, new apple pie cheeks of mine. I must say, that between the surgery and all the weight I had lost, my cheeks looked adorable. And finally the lipstick. I think something really red for tonight. I know that new "Cherry Crush" Sheila just bought me. As I raised the brush to my lips and moved closer to the mirror to draw the outline, I was again surprised at how full they were now. I still wasn't used to them. Roberto liked them though. He said they were sooo soft on his cock. I guess maybe that's why he always came so quickly. I giggled, amused by his inability to control his ejaculation for even a couple of minutes. Great Latin lover, ha!

OK, now I had to change the polish on my fingers and toes. I always found this a real chore, and realized I'd never finish in time. I'll be late for my first date! Then I had an insight! Tommy wouldn't mind. Tonight, he'll let me get away with almost anything. So, with a little glow in my soul (realizing for the first time at 24 what every girl already knows about guys by the time she's fourteen), I carefully rolled my pantyhose back down my legs and started in on my toes.

As I sat waiting for my nails to dry and examined my face in the mirror, I thought about what I was feeling and what I was going to do about those feelings. Tommy did make my heart flutter (Should I relish that or be embarrassed by it?). He had been my only source of emotional support and kindness for months. Did he do it because he was a nice guy, or because, as Amanda had written, he knew he'd get to fuck me eventually (Did that make me a desirable piece of ass?). Maybe his caring behavior was just an investment. As soon as that thought surfaced, I knew it couldn't be true. He was nice to me because he was a sweet guy, because he found me attractive (now that's a weird thought), and because I had been reinforcing his kindness with my flirtatious behavior. Yes, I had been behaving like a high school girl trying to grab the heart of some hopeful, but naive young boy.

But it was deeper than that. My flirting had begun as role playing, but it had progressed beyond that. I really felt glorious when Tommy responded to me. I craved his attention. And I suddenly understood why. He made me feel better about myself. I guess all of us become attracted to people who make us feel good. What could be more fundamental about human nature? We want to spend time with those people. We want to please them. Sometimes we fall in love with them too. But Tommy was a guy. If I was attracted to a guy, did that mean I was gay? Or, had I become a girl? There certainly was a lot of girl in me now, no macho at all. Yes, certainly more girl than guy now. But it really didn't matter, did it? My response to Tommy was about creating a basic caring interaction between two human beings. And for the past six months, he had been the only human being who would have me, and our relationship had nothing to do with sex.

As soon as I understood this, I knew what I would do. First, Amanda had directed me to be nice to him. I could do that. I'd love to! I just had to act like I had acted with all those women I used to escort around town. They liked me sweet and submissive. That's actually who I was. I could do that for Tommy, I really did want to please him. And I was ready, even eager, to take it a step further. I would no longer just be playing a role; I wanted to let my emotions out. I would find out soon enough how I felt about all of this.

By the time I had this figured out, my nails were dry. It only took a few more minutes to get dressed. Pantyhose, a halter dress tied behind the neck, and high heeled sandals with one ankle strap aren't that complicated after all (except for fastening that tiny buckle with long nails). I brushed out my hair and pinned one side back with a silver comb.

Earrings! Damn I needed earrings to match my outfit. I always left the small diamonds in the front hole. But I changed the second one from gold posts to small gold hoops and then put even larger golf hoops in the back hole. Cool. But then I had to change the comb, since I didn't want to wear a silver comb with gold hoops. I found a glittery barrette and used that instead of the comb. I threw my makeup into the little beaded shoulder bag that Amanda had included, and threw a lightweight shawl, also part of the outfit, over my shoulders. I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath, I straightened my back and hefted both breasts in my hands, closing my eyes and briefly caressing the nipples so they stoop up. Then I headed for the living room. Tommy knew I was coming because my heels tapped loudly on the wood floor.

"Hi baby," he said casually as I entered the room. I stood still for a second and then spun around, letting the skirt flair out.

"You like?" I asked, looking up at him with anticipation.

"Yummy!" He replied as he eyed me up and down and licked his lips. Then, as I walked toward him, adding as much sway to my gait as I could, he focused on my tits, which were bobbing up and down with each step, the nipples pushing out against the shirred fabric of the dress.

"Just like a guy," I said, as he finally looked up from my tits and into my eyes. "If you're nice, you may get to play with those later." And I gave my shoulders a little shake, to set my tits in motion again. Then I leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, grabbed his arm and said, "Let's go, I'm hungry."

Well, you won't be surprised to hear that this was a dream date. He treated me like I was a princess and I treated him like I adored him, which I did. I let my feelings out and they told me I was totally swept away by this man. So I relaxed and let myself go on instinct. Well, my instincts were apparently those of a teen age girl in heat. I flirted with him constantly, and never passed up an opportunity to be sexy for him. I held his arm with both of mine and caressed his body with my chest and hips as we walked. I rubbed my tits on his arm whenever I thought no one could see. I hung on his every word and ran my fingernails up his arm and through his hair. When we sat, I turned to the side and did a slow dance for him with my lipstick and little compact. I snapped it shut, rubbed my lips together sensuously, and peered up at him from under my eyelashes as if I didn't realize he was there.

"That was so perfect," he said, laughing, "Who taught you that? Keep it up and I'll have you on the table instead of dinner."

Perfect, I thought, as I turned to face the table, just what I was hoping for. And I smiled sweetly. As we ate, I never took my eyes off him.

Before we left the restaurant, I stopped in the women's room to pee and fix my face. As I stood at the sink, reapplying my lipstick and playing with my lashes, I noticed the woman standing next to me checking me out.

"I hope you brought some protection with you tonight sweetie," she said when I caught her looking at me in the mirror. The way you were coming on to that guy, I'm surprised he didn't just throw you down on the table and do you there."

'Well screw you, you stuck up bitch,' I thought to myself. "That was my intention," I said, turning back to the mirror, "and if he doesn't do me soon, I'm going to do him!"

Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. "Well!" she sputtered.

"You might want to close your mouth," I noted with only mild sarcasm as I dropped my tube of Cherry Crush (Really, who thinks of these names?) back into my bag and slung it back on my shoulder.

Her mouth snapped shut as I strutted out the door, wiggling my ass in her face. That was fun. But did I mean it?

After dinner, as we strolled along Central Park South in the muggy July night, I clung to Tommy's arm, thinking about what that woman had said. I was sort of appalled at how brazenly I had come on to Tommy so far. What was I doing? Now, he was going to want sex for sure. I had been so certain about what to do as I was getting dressed, but now, I was having second thoughts. I clenched my anus in a shiver of fear, remembering Brent's penis stuck deep inside. Then I felt Tommy put his other hand over mine. I looked up. He was beaming at me. No, this was the right thing to do.

"I've got a great idea, he said, "Let's take a buggy ride."

"Sure," I said, startled. "That would be . . . . romantic?" My voice got really small as I said that, but before I knew what was happening we were in the back seat of one of the many horse drawn carriages that line up across the street from the Plaza hotel. As the horse clattered its way into Central Park, and the lights of the city became lost behind the trees, he turned my face toward his and looked into my eyes. He started to speak, but I interrupted

"Shut up you wonderful man. Kiss me. I need to know . . . ."

He kissed me full on the lips before I could say anything stupid. Despite my best intentions, I freaked. I went rigid, my eyes shot open, and my hands flew to his chest. He pulled back immediately, looking at me with questioning eyes. Then I remembered what I had promised myself I would do, and softened with a sigh. I reached my hands around his head and pulled him back into me. After a couple of moments, he moved me to the corner of the seat and rose over me. I leaned back into the cushions and we kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Our tongues wrapped themselves around each other and into one mouth and then the other. I became hotter and hotter. I caressed his hair and mashed my lips into his. I rubbed my breasts into his chest. My hips squirmed all over the seat and against whatever part of him I could reach. When I finally got my hip on his now rigid dick, I almost swooned.

"Let's go home, quickly," I moaned.

"Soon enough," he kissed me again. The driver continued in his lazy path through the park, seemingly oblivious to the heavy petting going on in his back seat. About an hour later, Tommy had the carriage driver drop us at Sheila's building, and I dragged him into the lobby. The wait in for the elevator seemed forever. As soon as we got into it, I pulled his hands to my breasts.

"Please. ." I begged, "Take them, please!" He lowered his head, pulled the halter aside and started sucking on one. I never . . . My knees almost buckled, but he caught me just as the elevator stopped, and I again dragged him to the apartment door.

"What's your rush, little one?"

"Oh Tommy, I've never done this and I'm scared, and I'm hot, and I'm afraid I'll get spooked and not want to do it if you don't hurry." My voice was thick with urgency and edged with anxiety. He simply pulled me to him and kissed me gently, my back to the apartment door.

"No, we have all night, and the rest of the weekend. We're doing this right. I'm going to keep you hot and you're going to beg me to fuck you, otherwise I won't. But you will, and you're going to love it when I do. And when I'm done, you'll want me to do it again, and then again."

"Ohhh Tommmyyy, I sighed, reaching down to grab his prick through his pants. "Yes, do that, please do that. I've wanted you to do that for so long. And I've wanted to give it to you. I want you in me so bad. I want to please you!"

He opened the door behind my back and pushed me into the apartment. As soon as the door shut, he spun me away from him and reached around my body to put one hand on my breast and the other on my crotch. I arched my back to push my body into his hands, my own hand coming up and involuntarily grabbing my other breast while I rubbed the side of my head against his neck.

I arched my back to push my body into his hands, my own hand coming up and involuntarily grabbing my other breast while I rubbed the side of my head against his neck.

Tommy proved again that he really did know about nipples. Within moments, he had me frantic, but no matter how hard I squirmed, he wouldn't let me escape. I was getting frantic with need. "Please Tommy, fuck me now," I begged.

"Soon enough," he whispered. He let go of my tits, grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom.

Oh God . . . Things went just about as he predicted . . . And it was bliss. By the time Sheila and Amanda carefully peaked their heads into the apartment on Tuesday, I was in love. I had bedded some of the most elegant, sophisticated women in the city over the past two years. Who could have guessed that my greatest sexual experience would come with me in the sexy lingerie, on my back, and with my legs spread wide into the air. Once I got Tommy's stiff cock stuffed deep into my welcoming ass, I was in heaven.

When Tommy first got me into his room, he worshiped my body with his mouth and hands until I had just about turned into Jell-O. I thought he was going to suck the nipples right off my breasts, and the things he did with his tongue on my belly and thighs made me quiver and whimper in surrender. And he wouldn't let me do anything but hold him and caress his head and kiss him back when he kissed me. I begged and begged him to fuck me, but he wasn't showing any mercy. He just kept getting me hotter and hotter. I thrashed around in joy and frustration.

Finally, he said, "It's time. But first we have to clean you out. I want you smelling sweet for me." So he led me into the bathroom while I moaned my disappointment and proceeded to "douche" me. Well, he didn't just bend me over and shove a tube up my ass, he kissed and licked, and played with my asshole until I thought I would die if he didn't cram something up there real soon. Then he cleaned me out with a sweet-smelling woman's douche and lubricated me with a soothing jelly while I bent over the tub and wiggled my tight ass with its now soft, pale skin high in the air.

"Put on the stuff that's in the bag behind the door and meet me back in the bedroom."

"No! I can't wait any more."

"Then hurry, I can't wait much longer either. My dick is going to burst any second."

It ended up taking me quite a few minutes to get ready because the outfit he had left for me wasn't simple. It was brides' lingerie, all in a creamy, off-white satin. I quickly pulled on the merry widow, which had push up cups that didn't even reach to my nipples, but instead presented them like jewels on a tray. Fortunately, it closed in front. All those months of training in my too tight corsets must have paid off. It was tight, but not constricting. I rolled the white stockings up my legs and attached them to the clips hanging from the corset. I rushed to pull the panties on, thinking, 'what the fuck do I need panties for, I intend to have them off in a microsecond anyway.' Then, the tall, white, spiked heels. I wasn't going to bother taking those off. Then I fixed my lipstick and carefully placed the white head band, which had a short veil on it over my hair. I just swiveled out of the bathroom door and stood there posed, caressing the door above my head with one hand, and my tummy and hips with the other.

"Oh Ashley, baby. Get that gorgeous ass over here. I'm going to devour you."

"Yes, you had fucking better, Tommy, you son of a bitch. You made me wait so long. And enjoy the way I look now, because I intend to be out of this stuff before I get to the bed."

"No. Don't touch anything. Just come here." He was getting really excited.

'Oh! Well!' I thought, 'my advantage.' I was a little calmer now. Now he wants me, but turn about is fair play. Two can play this waiting game, you know. I threw my arms over my head and posed like a slutty ballerina. Then I did a couple of pirouettes and skipped around the edge of the room, using little dance moves to sway and turn seductively just out of his reach. He was amused for a few moments, but then when I got a little too close, he simply reached out and grabbed me, drawing me to him by my wrist. He stood up, kissed me on the mouth, and keeping his lips locked on mine, lifted me onto the bed, depositing me on my back. Then he raised himself up and kneeled over me.

"Now," he said, and ripped the panties off my hips so quickly I squealed. He spread my legs and folded them back to my shoulders. Then he crouched over me and stuck the head of his raging erection at the greased entrance to my asshole. "Guide me," he said his voice soothingly soft. "Grab it and put it in yourself. I don't want to hurt you."

I did as he asked. I slid my right hand between us as he leaned his torso back, grabbed his dick, and pulled it toward my hole. I had the head against the sphincter.

"Now," I urged, "lean forward and push, gently." I really couldn't keep my hand between us, so I withdrew it, and used it and the other one to pull my legs back and out. Tommy rocked gently back and forth until he penetrated me just a little. It burned. He waited.

"OK," I said, "more. OH, OH, OH! I squealed with each push. "He wasn't gigantic, so it only took a few more thrusts before he was completely inside. "AAAAHHH," I let out.

"Does it hurt, baby?"

"Yes . . . No. . Yes! But don't you dare move." Just give me a moment. He rested his weight on the backs of my thighs while I got used to the stretching. "OOHHH, I'm so stuffed," I started wiggling my ass around to feel him in me. "Fuck me, slowly, please?" He started to move, just a little at first, and then more and more. He set up a peaceful rhythm of slow gentle strokes. He started off by simply rocking his hips and progressed slowly to actual in and out thrusting. My being was focused on my asshole and the feeling of his cock inside me. I had no idea . . . It could feel so good.... I felt like my insides were glowing.

"Ohhh . . . Tommy . . . You . . . . I . . . unnh," he pushed in, "Aaaaaahh," he pulled out. "Oh, it's wonderful . . . . Please! . . . . Go deeper!" I was starting to get frantic, but he kept control. I felt like I was at the edge of a gigantic orgasm . . . It had been so long . . . . I wanted it now!!

"Harder, DO ME HARDER! DO ME FASTER! DAMN YOU, DO ME FASTER!! FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME! AAAAHHHH AAAHHHHH, AAAHHHHhhhhh." My insides were ablaze and I started to tremble. I felt a throbbing behind my prick, which was now crushed between the two of us. I was thrashing around on the bed in an absolute frenzy. Then all of a sudden, I heard him start to grunt, he lost his rhythm for a few strokes, and I could feel him start to cum inside of me. I was so happy, so thankful, so needy, so grateful . . . I started to cry. "Hey, are you OK?" he asked, caressing my face.

"Oh Yes, oh yes, Ohhh yessss. I'm great," I sputtered through my tears. Just don't pull out of me. I'm so mixed up. This was wonderful. I never knew . . . ."

"Shhhh baby," he cooed. Tommy will take care of you.

And did he ever. We spent the next three days learning the ins and outs of each other's bodies. I couldn't get enough of him, and he was up to the job each time. My favorite was later that evening when I made him do me doggy style and my tits hung down from my chest and wobbled and swayed, and eventually thrashed back and forth until he grabbed them with both with his hands and threw me into the most stunning, powerful, gut wrenching, wonderful orgasm of my entire life. Oh! What a man.

All that shit about who I was, or what I was, or whatever, didn't seem to matter anymore. How could it have ever mattered? Everything seemed so clear now. I just poured all my confused, repressed, needful emotions into my lust for him. Sometimes I totally lost control and I cried. Other times I simply attacked his body. I couldn't get enough of his biceps or pecs, or that wonderful penis. I wanted it in my mouth or ass all the time, and I didn't even know why. I had never had a homosexual experience before, yet here I was completely in Tommy's control.

I was in love! Head over heels, blindly, mindlessly, in love with him. . . or at least in lust. It felt like a dam had burst inside of me. I felt cleansed and renewed. I felt like me, I didn't really care who that might be.

So when Sheila and Amanda peeked in on Tuesday night to find us cuddling on the couch because we were too exhausted to do anything else, they could both tell with a single look how I felt. They both stuck their heads in the door at the same time and caught me clinging to him, and giggling like the little school girl they were so bent on creating.

I started to lurch up off the couch as soon as I realized they were in the door, but Tommy confidently pulled me back into his lap with a big hand around my waist.

"Hello Sheila. Hello Amanda," he said with a smile as big as a crescent moon. "Say hello Ashley, and say thank you to your mistresses."

"Aunt Sheila, Mistress Amanda, Oh thank you, Oh thank you. You were so nice to leave me here with this wonderful man." Then I took a little risk. "Have you had him? He's amazing you know," and I kissed him.

"Yes dear, we know," they both laughed. Tommy laughed. I just sat there feeling a little stupid, although I wasn't quite sure why.

"Do you think she's ready?" Amanda asked Tommy.

"Oh yes." He smiled at me like a proud parent smiling at a three year-old. "I'm sure of it."

"Wonderful," beamed Amanda.

I smiled too, thought I wasn't sure why.

"Ashley dear," Sheila cut in. "We'll give you 15 minutes to finish with your sweetheart here and then another 15 to get into your uniform. We're home and you're still the maid, remember?"

I pouted.

"OK," she relented with a small smile, "you don't need the uniform. Just put on something that doesn't smell like cum. And for God's sakes wear a bra! And make sure you don't drip. One of the Tampax in my bathroom should fix you up.

I laughed. "I'm not dripping. I've had a Tampax in for two days. What kind of girl do you think I am?" I pouted again.

Everyone else laughed.

  

 

 

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© 2003 by Kelly Ann Rogers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.