The Degradation of Chris
by: Ami Lamida
TiedUpTV@Hotmail.com

 

Chapter 2

The day after my ordeal I thought about playing sick, but I thought better of being at home by myself all day. If the pervert was really watching me, he might know, and then he’d have the whole day to abuse and molest me. So I bit the bullet and went to school, after another long, hot shower and a thorough scrubbing of every inch of my skin.

Nobody at school seemed to suspect anything, though I think I was probably more anti-social and paranoid than usual. But nobody said anything, which is just fine with me.

When I got home, I left the door open while I checked out the house. I wanted to be able to make a fast getaway if I glimpsed the nasty dude who had done those horrible things to me. The worst part was that I felt guilty about what had happened. I knew I didn’t cause or deserve it, but I had obviously enjoyed some of it. That’s what scared me the most.

I continued my house checking routine for several weeks after the incident. Then one day when I walked through the door, I found an attractive woman sitting on the stairs inside facing the front door. I was extremely nervous at first, but she obviously wasn’t the bad guy and she quickly eased my mind.

"Hi. I’m Monica Moran from Child Protective Services. Don’t be scared. Your mom let me in. She’s upstairs in her bedroom. I wanted to talk to you alone about some crimes being committed in the neighborhood."

The implications raced through my mind…crimes? Does she know about my ordeal? How much did she know? I decided to play it cautious. I really didn’t want her or anyone else to know what had happened to me, but if there was a chance that the perpetrator might be caught, I wanted to help catch him. I told her, "I don’t know about any criminal activity, but if I can help, I will."

She just looked at me and smiled. My shock had worn off enough that I was able to take in more details about her. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, very professional looking. She had a pleasant face, though she didn’t seem to wear much makeup, which would have given her a stern visage had she not been smiling. But her skin was smooth, and behind her large round glasses, she had bright, blue eyes. She was attired in a plain gray wool jacket and skirt with a pale yellow dress shirt underneath revealing her average yet perky breasts.

Her most attractive feature was her legs. Though they weren’t skinny or long, they were exceptionally well defined under her shiny beige hose. I could see part way up her skirt, and she appeared to have smooth, grand curves from top to bottom. Though she wore matte black patent flats, her feet seemed smaller than average.

I attempted to focus on her eyes as I asked her, "What did you want to know?" Beautiful girls always made me nervous, and beautiful women usually make me speechless. But she had already set me at ease with her first words, so I moved all the way inside, dropped my bag and shut the door. I tried not to gawk.

She paused before she explained, "We’ve been tracking an ex-con named Joe. He’s a very elusive rapist who has been known to go after high school-aged girls and sometimes boys. We think he is residing with a friend somewhere in this housing complex. Have you or your friends seen anybody suspicious in the area or encountered anyone strange?"

"I’m not sure," I lied. "What does he look like?"

"He’s a large, muscular man, unshaven usually, mid-thirties, dark hair. He’s been known to break into homes and hold residents captive until he’s done with them, and often as not, he slits their throats."

I could feel my face getting hot. It sounded like my attacker. I was still embarrassed about what had happened, but I wanted so bad to tell somebody about it. It had been a nightmare. Holding back tears, I asked, "Why does he do it?"

"Who knows? Twisted mind, I guess. The man doesn’t seem to have any sense of decency. I think he especially likes to humiliate his victims."

My emotions came rushing forward. This woman already had some experience with this criminal, so my story wouldn’t be too unusual. I felt the sudden sense of a great weight being lifted. I let go of my restraint and began to sob.

Monica seemed to understand. She extended her arms in invitation, and I willingly accepted. She hugged me and I stayed in her embrace until the flood of tears ebbed. Then she put her hand to my chin and raised my head to meet her eyes.

"I know it was horrible," she said, "but you have to tell me what happened. We’ll never catch this guy until some brave young soul helps us. Do you think you can be brave?"

I nodded numbly. Her eyes seemed to be the most compassionate and gentle eyes I’d ever seen, though she never lost her seriousness. I thought if my mom was like that, this would have been over already. But she was up in her bedroom, probably thinking I did something bad. A thought struck me. "Do my parents have to find out?"

"No. This is between you and me. Now tell me where it happened and don’t leave out any details, no matter how unimportant they seem."

I vividly recalled every detail of the events of two weeks back. It felt as if it had just happened. She listened patiently and kept reassuring me with her touch on my shoulder or arm. She directed me to show her exactly where everything happened, and when I told her the man carried me upstairs, she said simply said, "Show me," and gently led me upstairs to my parents bedroom.

When we got there, I didn’t see my mom so I assumed she was busy in the bathroom. I quietly asked Monica if we could ask her to leave the room. I still didn’t believe my parents would treat me the same after they found out.

"That won’t be necessary," she said calmly. I looked at her feeling a bit shocked and dismayed. Did she really mean for my mother to know everything? Did my mom already know what she was here for? I was starting to get the feeling I should never have opened my mouth. I was about to find out how right I was.

"You can come out now, Joe." A man appeared at the doorway to the bathroom and suddenly I sank to my knees. It was the pervert.

Monica had seemed so nice. How could she betray me to him like that? What power did he have over her to make her do it? But the real shock was yet to come.

"Well, kid, I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut about what Joe here did to you," Monica continued. "Even though I should let Joe rot in prison for acting without my consent, I just couldn’t let him have all the fun. He told me all about you after I beat it out of him one night, and I was intrigued. I had to meet this ‘sissy-boy’ he told me about. I must say, I am not disappointed."

I was too numb to resist as Joe, grabbed me about the arms from behind, pulled me to my feet and held me facing Monica. My mind was too detached from what was going on to make my muscles move. I was still trying to sort out the implications, when Monica explained.

"I can see my little sissy-boy is confused. You see, Joe here is a very bad boy, but he’s my boy. I control him – MOSTLY," she said with extra venom to Joe. "But occasionally, when I’m off at work, he does things he shouldn’t – or at least things he shouldn’t do without my permission. Do you understand what I am saying? I am in control here. I am the mistress and Joe does my bidding."

"That’s right," Joe chimed in. "She’s MY mistress, and now she’s yours too. She’s the executive type now, but she used to be quite a burglar. She’s great with all kinds of locks." He pulled me up slightly and tilted his head till I could feel his hot breath as he whispered in my ear. "You probably thought you had it rough with me. She’s far worse than I am. Now you’re going to find out what pain really is."

"That’s quite enough, Joe," said Monica, as she threw a withering look at him. Then smiling at me once more, she continued, "He’s quite right though. You are my slave now – my new sissy-boy. There is no end to the embarrassment and pain I could cause you and your loved ones if you don’t obey me. Think about it for a minute. Would you rather endure a little pain for the sake of your friends and family? Or would you rather endure the pain, AND make your friends and family suffer as well?"

Now I was speechless, and a few moments passed while she waited for me to answer. Suddenly her smile was gone, replaced by a stern grimace. She stepped forward gracefully, then slapped my face hard. My face stung and tears welled up again in my eyes.

"That was lesson number one. Never look me in the eye unless I command you to. Each infraction of my rules will bring you swift and painful punishment. You will look at my feet from now on. Study my feet well, because you will be worshiping at them from now on. You will address me as "Mistress’ or ‘Mistress Monica’ at all times. Joe there is my servant, but he still ranks above sissy-boys, so you must follow his instructions as if they were mine. You will not become a servant man like him. That is too much honor for you. Instead you will become a sissy slave for life. You will from this day forward give up any ideas of becoming a man. The sooner you learn your place, the easier it will go for you."

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, and I guess that’s what started me struggling. It never really occurred to me that I would never escape. It was just a survival instinct that took over. Little good it did me. Monica simply nodded towards the bed and Joe seemed to immediately know what to do.

He led me over to my parent’s four-poster bed and tied my wrists to a post with some 3/8" cotton clothesline. It was thin rope and it bit into my wrists. He then proceeded to strip me using the knife he had used previously.

I finally found my voice and screamed, "NO! Why are you doing this? What have I done to you? Let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone." But by that time, I was completely naked and helpless.

"Oh, I know you won’t tell anyone. One of the lessons you will learn eventually is that I am your goddess. You must keep in mind that we know where you live, we know your parent’s schedule and we know where you go to school. One word from you will destroy you and everything you hold dear."

While she spoke, Joe had been fondling my body. He pulled hard at my left nipple, and I let out a yelp. "Joe, that’s enough," Monica reproached him. "Sorry mistress," Joe replied, looking like a hurt puppy. "Get my riding crop," she ordered.

Joe lifted a briefcase that had been sitting by the bed and opened it. Inside were many devices that I had never seen before. They looked like instruments of torture out of some sci-fi horror movie. Sitting on top of it all was a short, thin riding crop.

"This is a riding crop. It is generally used on horses. Do you know why it is used on horses?" Without waiting for an answer, she brought the crop down hard on my exposed butt cheeks. I let out a high-pitched scream. The pain was intense. Monica explained, "It is terrifically motivating – even to horses. Are you feeling motivated yet?"

"I’ll do whatever you want. PLEASE!" I pleaded.

"That isn’t what I asked you. I don’t think you fully understand your predicament yet. Joe, let’s have a gag for our sissy here so he can’t scream and alert any neighbors."

Joe rushed to obey, pulling a complicated device from the case that looked like a bunch of leather straps including one wide one that had a red rubber ball attached to it. He brought it close to my face, and I locked my jaw tight. He merely reached around me and pulled hard on my penis. I let out a yelp, but was immediately muffled by that red ball. Then he began to fasten the main straps around my head and fasten them. There was a strap that came under my chin and another in the shape of an upside down ‘Y’, which was brought up over my nose and forehead and buckled to the back strap. As he pulled it tight, it forced me to bite down on the red ball. I couldn’t move my jaw even slightly and my tongue was pressed back in my mouth. The only sound I could make was "nnnnnnh".

Just as Joe finished, I squirmed to the side and hopped onto the bed to get out of the reach of that evil crop. Mistress Monica just sighed and said, "Joe…" Immediately, Joe pulled some more ropes out of his pocket, snatched me by the ankles, and pulled me off the bed. He bound my ankles roughly together, stood me on my feet, and then bound my knees to the bedpost. Then he stepped back.

My weight was mostly on my knees, though my toes were touching the floor. I was forced to stick my butt out slightly to get any kind of comfort. Then the first of many strokes came. Each one burned and I felt as though I was bleeding from a dozen open cuts. I’m not sure if my struggling caused it, but the crop rarely struck the same place twice.

Though the cropping only lasted for a few minutes, it seemed like eternity. When it was over, I felt like I’d gotten a full body workout and every inch of my backside was in pain. I was completely spent. They just left me hanging there from the bedpost while they prepared for their next torture.

But Joe didn’t go back to the briefcase. Instead, Monica retrieved a large, white rectangular box that had been sitting on my Mom’s dresser.

"I hope you are ready to be a more respectful sissy. I don’t want you to think I’m always this hard on my sissies. If you are obedient, there will definitely be rewards. Of course, there will still be pain, but not as much, and you will learn to enjoy it to some extent."

"Anyway, because this is your first real lesson, I went shopping and I got you this," and she pulled the lid off the white box. She pulled away some white tissue paper to reveal a folded garment of silk bows and lace. I didn’t know what it was yet, but I knew it wasn’t for a boy. I could only blink my disapproval. "Consider it an initiation gift."

She lifted the frilly thing out of the box, and I saw that it was a dress. "Pretty, isn’t it?" said Monica. I only blinked. It was indeed pretty. It was the kind of dress that a young girl would wear to a summer wedding if she were a flower girl. It was almost all white. The upper half was done all in flowery lace. The short sleeves were gathered in with pink ribbon tied in a bow, creating ruffles at each sleeve. The collar was high, with what must have been stretch lace at the neck. Another thin ribbon was laced through the collar with a bow at the front. A wide pink ribbon tied into a bow at the back separated the top half from the bottom, which was all white satin, evidently puffed up with crinoline.

But despite the fact that it was a gorgeous dress and looked like it might fit me, not only was I not a girl, I was not eight years old. Apparently, Mistress Monica intended to humiliate me even more by dressing me as a child. I couldn’t take any more humiliation, and I screamed, "NO! NO!" Unfortunately, it came out as "nnnnnh!", "nnnnnh!". I pulled at my bonds, but tied as I was it turned out looking like I was humping the bedpost.

Naturally, Monica preferred to see it as a compliment. "Oh, you like it, do you? Yes, I can see you can’t wait to get into it. But we mustn’t be hasty. You must dress and act like a proper young lady. So first, your training bra," she said, as she held out a skimpy looking silky white bra. She laid it on the bed.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I got some extra special panties for our young lady. You are going to look so cute in these." She held up white silk panties, covered in ruffles - much like a toddler would wear over their diapers. I definitely didn’t want to wear those. "Nnnnnnh!" I cried.

"Yes, yes. You may put them on soon." She continued to pull items out of the box. First, a pair of white tights, then a pair of white patent leather low-heeled shoes with a T-strap at the top and a pink ribbon below that, then a pair of gloves - white, lace wrist-length things that had ruffles around the wrist. She paused with each item to make sure I got a good look.

"Now you may put on your new outfit. Joe would you help him get dressed?" Joe untied the bonds at my wrists, knees, and ankles. As he held me toward Mistress Monica with my feet dangling above the floor, the back of my leg brushed against his crotch and knew that he was enjoying himself. If he wasn’t in his element before, he definitely was now.

He let me drop to the floor as Mistress Monica took a chair opposite us, crossing her legs and leaning forward. I must admit, her legs looked fantastic as the diffuse light danced across her shiny thighs. I concentrated on that as I went limp and allowed myself to be dressed by the goon behind me.

As he slid each item over my body, his hands would linger. He played with my nipples after the bra was on. He played with my butt after the frilly panties were on. He played with my crotch after the tights were on, but not for long. "Joe…" Mistress warned.

He returned his attention to getting my shoes on. They were narrow and hurt my feet, but Joe managed to buckle them. Then Joe slid the dress over my head, jamming my arms through the sleeves. He tied the bow at the back, then held each arm while he struggled to put the lace gloves on me.

When he was finished, he stepped back and grinned. The Mistress also seemed pleased. I just felt awkward and I looked from side to side, glancing at my pretty self as I did. I could have probably attended any child’s tea party looking like this, except for my size.

"I approve. You make quite an adorable sissy boy," Monica admitted. The praise only made me mad and I folded my arms and stared hard at the floor. "You don’t like it? Well, of course you don’t. We haven’t put the finishing touches on you yet." I couldn’t imagine what indignity they had planned for me next.

Monica stepped over to the dresser to fetch a small plastic case. It was easy to guess that there was makeup inside. She pulled out a bottle of something and began to shake it. "Joe, I don’t think I want our little sissy struggling while I do this. Would you please tie her tightly to that bedpost again, but facing the other way? Make sure you immobilize her head."

I was about to protest the use of the use of the word "her", but Joe grabbed me again. He backed me up to the bedpost and tied my wrists behind me with the post in between. He tied my ankles together, then to the bottom of the post. He pulled out a long rope, tied it to the post behind my knees. He began wrapping the long rope twice around my knees, and up across my crotch, around my waist twice, through my arms, crisscrossing at my chest, around my elbows, drawing my arms in tight, then around my neck 3 times and tied it off.

I couldn’t move any part of my body except my head, but that would have caused me some serious rope burns around my neck, and quite possibly strangle me. After he was finished, Joe removed my ball gag and knelt behind me on the bed. He grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and held my head still against the post.

Monica placed her makeup kit on the bed next to me and began to paint. First she put something flesh-colored all over my face. I didn’t see the purpose of that, but who can understand what women do to themselves? Then she pulled out a tiny brush and painted my lips red. She found a small, round pad and brushed some red powder on my cheeks. Then came the part that I hated the most - she started doing my eyes.

She pulled out that nasty looking contraption that Joe had tried to use on me before. She pried open my eyes. I would have flinched, but I was held tight. My eyes watered as she attached the device to my eyelashes and squeezed. When she was finished, she took out a pencil and began to draw on the tips of my eyelids. That part was actually worse than the eyelash part. At some point she may have poked me in the eye with that thing, but I may have been imagining things. She really concentrated on my eyes, mixing up colors of eye shadow until she seemed to be content.

When she was all done with my makeup, she turned again to the dresser and turned back holding a square box. She opened it and produced a blonde wig and some kind of nylon cap. The wig was long and styled in modest waves. The bangs had some slight inward curls and some of the hair had been pulled back and tied with a pink satin bow. It seemed she had this planned out very thoroughly.

Joe let go of my hair then, and Monica put the nylon cap on my head, making sure none of my hair stuck out of it. Then she put the wig on over that. She fussed around with some stray strands, and finally told Joe to untie me.

As I was untied, Monica said nothing. She just appraised me with a widening grin. When Joe was finished untying me, he too stepped back and had a spreading grin on his face. Though I was terribly uncomfortable and feeling like a side of beef about to be cooked, I no longer felt like running. After all, where would I go dressed like this?

After a few moments, Monica said, "You are darling. You must have a look at yourself." She gently took my arm and led me to the bathroom, where the full-length mirror stood. I gazed at a reflection that was no longer me. I didn’t even recognize my face anymore. Strange as it may seem, at that moment I became fully erect. I was turned on by my own mirror image.

I felt a strange change come over me. I felt free somehow. I don’t think anyone would have recognized that girl in the mirror. Even the people that know me best wouldn’t have known me without hearing my voice. The elation of becoming someone different and the excitement of feeling sexy made me momentarily forget my fears. But that moment of joy was to be short-lived.

"Okay sissy, I have given you a gift but don’t try my patience. You may look like a proper sissy, but your training has yet to begin. I think we’ll start off with learning how to please your mistress. Joe…" without another word, she turned back to the bedroom. Joe entered and dragged me away from the mirror to follow the Mistress.

As Mistress Monica resumed sitting, Joe held me at attention in front of her. There was an awkward silence as my anticipation grew. She casually threw an arm over the back of the chair and crossed her legs. Her face grew stern. "Let’s start with personal grooming. It’s tedious to clean between my toes every day. I think that will be your first useful function. Joe…"

It didn’t sound that bad. She had beautiful legs, and I wouldn’t be sad to be near them. But then Joe forced me down on my hands and knees. Mistress Monica raised her crossed leg a few inches towards my face. "You can start by licking my shoes clean."

"That’s disgusting!" I protested. Monica responded, "Joe…"

Joe reached around and grabbed my right wrist, twisting it up behind my back. The painful twisting made me arch my back and bend my left elbow. I almost fell on my face, but Mistress Monica stuck the toe of her shoe under my jaw and forced my head up. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way, but either way, your tongue is going to lick my shoes clean."

I nodded slightly, consenting. I began slowly licking the top of the patent leather shoes. It didn’t have a flavor really, but I still felt a little sick from the thought. I hoped that she would relent, letting me just like the top, but when I was done, she lifted her foot so I could access the bottom. As I began on them, I had a reason to gag. But Mistress would have none of that, "If you throw up on my shoes, you will lick up every bit of it, then you will be whipped to within an inch of your life."

I managed to control my gag reflex after that. I finally finished cleaning her shoes, when she ordered me to remove them. I did so. Then she ordered me to lick every inch of her feet clean and suck her toes thoroughly. I looked up for a moment waiting for her to remove her stockings.

"I can see you haven’t yet learned your manners. Joe, teach our sissified friend here that he is not worthy to look upon his Mistress’s face." Joe responded by wedging both of his legs between mine and spreading them uncomfortably apart. I was about to lose what strength I had in my left arm, but that problem was quickly solved. Joe grabbed my left hand and pulled it up behind me so that he held both arms in one hand. Then he wrapped his free hand around my neck and held me fast at the level of Mistress Monica’s dangling foot.

I felt Joe put a little pressure on my throat and before things got too foggy, I began sucking and licking in earnest. There was a slight flavor that wasn’t as bad as the shoe bottoms, and even became pleasant after a moment. Joe loosened his grip on my neck slightly, but yanked my arms up even higher. I winced in pain, but got the message and kept licking and sucking right through the pantyhose. Meanwhile, Joe got himself hard rubbing his groin against my butt.

After I had both of her stocking feet soaked with my saliva, she put both feet on the floor. I took this as a signal to stop licking, but couldn’t look up to be sure. I couldn’t exactly reach them anymore anyway, since Joe tightened his grip on both my arms and my throat. I thought I had done a thorough job, but I was not to be rewarded.

"Oh my," Mistress Monica pronounced. "You seem to have gotten my pantyhose all wet. They won’t be much good to wear anymore with your saliva all over them." She stood up, lifted her skirt, and pulled the hose off. "You may as well finish the job though. Consider this my second gift today. I’m going to let you taste the juices of your goddess. I guess I’m just in a giving mood today." With that, she picked up the hose and shoved the crotch end into my mouth, then wrapped the legs around my head several times, turning them into a sort of gag.

She was right, I could taste her juices. She must have enjoyed having her feet licked and sucked just a little. This gave me some small pleasure to offset the fact that I was gagged again.

"I have been too easy on you today. Before I see to my own pleasure, I think I will make sure you understand pain. Joe, bend our little sissy slut over and hold her there please."

Joe did as he was told, and Monica disappeared from my sight. Joe never let go of his grip on my neck or my arms and I was beginning to see stars. Mistress Monica must have returned, because I felt my dress being lifted in the back. A hand rubbed me for a moment between my legs before pulling my tights and panties down just below my butt. My butt checks were spread apart slightly, and I felt a finger playing with my hole. It stopped momentarily, then began again, this time rubbing in some kind of lube. Again it stopped, and in a moment I felt a hard object being thrust inside me.

I lost consciousness. For how long, I couldn’t tell, but when I came too again, Joe’s hands had slackened a little, and I could feel a hand lightly stroking my penis. I gradually became hard, and it soon stopped. There was a little bit more fumbling, and I felt something being fastened around my shaft and balls. It felt like a thin leather thong with a clasp, which it turned out to be. No sooner was it fastened, than I felt some pulling at some other strap between my legs, and the device in my butt seemed to dig deeper in while the thong around my scrotum and penis got tighter.

"Stand him up," commanded the Mistress. Joe stood me up and the strap between my legs pulled even tighter, increasing my erection and the pressure in my butt. My panties and tights were pulled up and my dress straightened.

"Tie him to the bed. Put him on his back with his hands and feet spread." Joe moved to do as commanded, treating me roughly as usual. I was bound hand and foot, spread-eagled again, but on my back. At least I knew the brutish henchman wouldn’t be screwing me up the butt.

"Kid, you’ve been pretty good. But you must learn to submit mind and body to me. You will now discover the pleasures of the flogger." She produced something similar to a whip, but it was short and had a dozen or so thin, braided leather strings hanging out of the handle. It looked like a whip times ten. She lifted the front of my dress. I could see the crinoline sticking up and through that I could see the ruffled lines inside my tights.

Lightly, she dangled the flogger over my crotch and ran it up and down my legs. It was a very light, tingling sensation and I actually enjoyed it. She smiled as she did it, but quickly her smile faded. "No more gifts for you," she said firmly.

She flogged me then, beginning with my inner thighs. Occasionally a strand of the flogger landed in the right place to be felt on my tender male anatomy. It normally would have made me go limp, but the damn strap around my genitals kept me from losing my erection. She continued flogging me down both legs to my ankles, increasing pace and force as she went. Eventually, I stopped jerking in my bonds as my legs started to numb to the abuse. A short while later, she must have grown tired and stopped.

Breathing heavily, she sighed, "I am now ready for a real man. Joe, you will now pleasure me on top of this pathetic sissy." She lay down right on top of me as if I wasn’t there. Her weight was easy enough to bear, and Joe climbed up from the bottom of the bed and began licking her pussy.

He stoked her legs and mine as he licked and sucked. He even stroked my penis occasionally, bringing pleasure and pain from the harness strapped to my crotch. When Mistress Monica shuddered and screamed, "Now. Fuck me now," the gorilla climbed on top of her, forcing all the air out of my compressed lungs. As he began to thrust, I was only able to breathe between thrusts, and I could feel Mistress Monica’s ass banging into my penis.

Despite the pressure of their bodies and the tearing of the ropes on my hands and feet, I very nearly climaxed, but I didn’t. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to, but something about that damn strap kept me from ejaculating. They kept on for what must have been 30 minutes, and finally with a monstrous thrust, it was over.

Both laid on top of me and my penis throbbed intensely. After a few minutes, Joe withdrew himself from Mistress Monica and climbed off us both. Mistress Monica slid off to my left side and snuggled up to me, whispering "Now that’s how a real man pleases his mistress."

She gave me a light kiss on the cheek and ran her hand down my torso to my swollen member. Her touch made me shudder, but still I was unable to cum. She idly stoked my penis for a minute, making the pressure even worse. "Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to relieve that pressure down there?" I did my best to produce a hearty nod. "Well, I don’t know… I guess I might allow it, but we can’t have you messing up your new clothes with cum, can we? Let me see what I’ve got in my bag of tricks…"

She rummaged around in her briefcase and I shivered and throbbed the whole time. "Aha!" she said, pulling out a long length of one-inch clear acrylic tubing. She pulled the pantyhose gag down and out of my mouth. While I was still stretching my jaws, she slipped one end of the hose into my mouth and held it there with her hand over my mouth and nose. "Don’t struggle now," she warned. "This won’t be so bad but the punishment for struggling will be."

I took a few labored breaths through the hose while she pulled my tights and panties and stroked my bare penis a few more times before reaching down and unbuckling the device held tight around my penis. Then quickly she held the other end of the tubing up to the head of my penis. Despite the awkward feeling of the hose on my sensitive head, I shot a full load into the hose. Mistress Monica even gave me a few good tugs for good measure then shook my penis a bit making sure she had milked me dry.

Then she held up that end of the hose and wiggled it slightly so that my cum ran down the hose towards my mouth. I tried to turn aside, but I was exhausted from everything that had happened, and Monica easily overpowered my feeble thrashing. I was held there watching my cum slide into my mouth. I tried to stopper the tube with my tongue, but I had to breathe, so in a matter of seconds I was tasting the hot, salty essence of my juices. It wasn’t as bad as I would have thought, and after a moment of trying to expel it, I realized it was best just to swallow and get it over with.

After I’d swallowed, Monica removed the tube and replaced my pantyhose gag. Joe and Monica both went into the bathroom to clean up and I was left to myself. Once again, I had been forced into a degrading situation against my will. Of course, this time it had been somewhat more enjoyable, but I still felt humiliated. Even worse, my old fears of being left dressed like that and bound returned and I tested my bonds again, but they held tight. All I could do is wait.

When they returned, looking refreshed and smiling, Monica said, "Well, what do you think Joe? Should we leave her like that for her parents to find?" I must have been able to convey my panic through my eyes and my struggles if their sadistic smiles were any indication. Joe said, "It would serve the little sissy right. Maybe if he gets kicked out of his house he could come and live with us."

"No," replied Monica, to my relief. "I think we’ll let him go. People are bound to discover just how pathetic she really is eventually. Go untie one of his hands." Joe moved to my left wrist and unknotted it after a minute. Monica continued, "But it is not becoming of a goddess to have to seek out her worshippers. Sissy Chrissy, you will leave your parents a note tomorrow morning. It will say, ‘Mom & Dad, I went over to a friend’s house to study. I will be home by 6:30.’ That will be more convenient for me and more fitting for you, plus it will give us a little extra time to play."

I looked away, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. I was already struggling at my other wrist for freedom and I just wanted it over. I had no intention of going to wherever their lair was. Then I heard several clicks and saw their accompanying flashes.

"This will make a nice souvenir for your parents if you fail to show up," Monica declared. "I think I will blow it up to poster size and have it delivered to their offices." I suddenly hesitated what I was doing and though about how those pictures would look. Could you tell that I was untying myself or would it look as though I was tying myself up like this? I was caught in a very compromising position, I realized then.

"I think you’ll show up though. Weak as you are, I don’t think you are stupid. Joe, leave our little slave our address." Joe threw a card at me and it landed on my chest. "Oh, don’t forget to bring all of the gifts we’ve given you – clean and properly wrapped." Then they both left, with me still struggling to untie myself.

They had left me a little more time this time to clean things up, and I was going to need it. I cleaned everything up in the bedroom, washed what needed to be washed, folded what needed folding, and then attacked the makeup on my face. I couldn’t manage to get it all off before my face was red and raw. I resolved to play sick that evening, staying in my room and even skipping dinner. My parents didn’t seem to mind much. It was just more confirmation to me that they weren’t that concerned with my welfare.

I didn’t sleep much that night. At intervals, I got up and scrubbed at my face. Even after I got all the makeup off, I scrubbed until it hurt. Then I stood at the sink and cried. I was no longer in control of my life and I wasn’t sure I could stand it. But I knew I would be at that address tomorrow after school. Despite the threats made against me, I was coming to need the punishment I was taking. It was a form of caring that I hadn’t had for a long time, twisted as it was. I wasn’t very much of a man, and I was starting to accept the thought of my sissy servitude.

Though it seemed like a dark road that I was being dragged along, at least along the way I would exact some pleasure to go with my pain.

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Ami Lamida. 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.