The Degradation of Chris

by Ami Lamida
tieduptv@hotmail.com

 

Chapter 4

 

I was very high up. I could not make out any faces in the crowd that had gathered to laugh, point, and whistle at me. I felt the blood heating up my face from hanging upside down so long. I’m sure I would have covered my face with my hands had they not been tied tightly to the opposite elbows behind my back. Of course, that left me an excellent view of my outfit and my predicament. My outfit turned out to be more embarrassing than my predicament. It was a full ballerina outfit – pink, wrist-length leotard, pink tights, a fluffy pink tutu, and silky pink toe-shoes. I could feel the material brushing against my nipples, and my breasts had grown to about a ‘C’ cup. This had been well-planned to embarrass and degrade me, down to the spreader bar holding my ankles wide apart and the ball gag with the rather large penis dildo protruding from the front.

My inverted body swayed and spun on the crane’s hook in the cool breeze. I shivered momentarily, as much from fear and anxiety as from the cold. I could feel the bulge in my tights straining to push itself erect past the unyielding elastic fabric. Then I had the sense that I was falling. When I looked at the crowd, I saw that I was slowly being lowered into their midst. As the faces came into focus I could see that they all belonged to people I recognized from my high-school. All the boys and girls seemed to be wearing heavy goth makeup and grinning lustily as I came closer. The licentious crowd began to buzz with excitement as I neared their reach, and I began to struggle helplessly. My body dropped into the press of the crowd and I felt a myriad of hands begin to grope every inch of me. As a strong hand grasped onto my last vestige of manhood through the lycra material I felt the throbbing in my penis increase to uncontainable pressures. It took no time at all to release that pressure and I could feel the warm liquid soaking into my tights…

I came awake suddenly realizing that the last part had not been a dream. I had worn my tights and leotard to bed and now they were soaked. I reveled in the warm feeling, and tried to sort out my thoughts. I had endured shame and torture the previous few days, and yet I seemed to have gained some kind of sexual freedom in the process. I had never felt so alive. I reasoned that only through being enslaved could I really be sexually free. My mind tried to wrap around that contradiction as I forced myself out of my warm bed.

Reality slowly seeped back into my life as it so annoyingly does. I couldn’t show up at school in my tights and leotard. I reluctantly off my new outfit and wrapped it in a towel. There was no time to sneak my new outfit into the washing machine so I would have to clean it by hand. I scrubbed it thoroughly while I was in the shower remembering my new Mistress’s temper. I dried it with a hair dryer, which took a while. Luckily, as was usual, my parents paid no mind to what I was doing.

Back in my bedroom, I carefully folded and packed both that outfit and the sissy-girl outfit Mistress Monica had bought me for our first meeting into a box and slid it into my school backpack. I left the house without saying goodbye or pausing to eat. Again, my parents didn’t seem to notice. It was just as well for me though it still hurt slightly.

I was more like my old self at school that day. I actually even smiled a little from time to time with the knowledge that I was somewhat prepared for tonight’s session with Monica. I hoped I might even impress her with my obedience. Of course, my smiles would occasionally draw someone’s attention since I wasn’t known to smile a lot. It was during one of these rare smiles that my far-off gaze happened to fall on Tabitha, who was looking at me quizzically. Her expression was more curious than I remembered from yesterday’s concerned and sad expression. She smiled briefly when I continued to smile right at her, but then she demurred.

After class, I was slower to gather my books, and I flushed slightly at the thought of the box hidden in my locker. I guess that’s why I didn’t immediately notice Tabitha standing directly in front of me. When I noticed her, she grinned at me.

"You seem to be in better spirits than you were yesterday," she proclaimed. "Did you win the lottery?"

"Umm … no. I’m just feeling ... happier. But it’s not something I am comfortable talking about."

She paused and studied me for a few moments. She seemed on the verge of asking me a question, but she must have thought better of it. "Well, just remember my offer. If you ever do feel comfortable talking about ‘it’, the offer is still good. Whatever ‘it’ is, you won’t find a more understanding person to talk to about it."

I was feeling slightly annoyed at that. This girl had not spoken to me - nor anyone else for that matter - all year long. Now she wanted details on my whole warped life. I really couldn’t appreciate the timing. If she had just spoken with me before everything else had happened…

"I don’t think you’ll understand this," I muttered.

I turned to leave, but she placed a gentle hand on my arm. Irked though I was, I felt a slight thrill run through my body. I had always considered Tabitha to be a very pretty girl, and her quiet mystery was something I’d often wanted to solve. I couldn’t quite look at her as she responded, "you’d be surprised what I can understand."

Shame suddenly poured over me and I could feel my eyes getting moist, so I turned and hurried off down the hall. How could someone like her understand the perverted things I’d done, or been forced to do?

Later, at the bus stop, I found myself watching Tabitha get into that long, white, darkly tinted luxury car that comes for her each day. More mystery…

When I arrived at Monica’s house/dungeon that afternoon, I only hesitated for an instant before I knocked on the door. There was no immediate answer, and I was wondering whether I should knock again when I heard footsteps approach from inside. They came to a stop, but still the door didn’t open. I had the feeling I was on display for the whole neighborhood, and I started to wonder if anyone else around might know what went on inside this house. I became very nervous. Finally, the door opened.

It was Joe who answered the door. "Mistress wanted me to make you sweat a little before I let you in. Are you ready to come in now?"

"Yes sir," I answered, feeling relieved. He pulled me inside and checked my backpack.

"Good sissy-boy," he jeered, as he led me into the basement-dungeon. I immediately noticed a new piece of equipment positioned in front of the Mistress’s leather lounge chair – a padded sawhorse-shaped device.

"Mistress must really like you. She has bought you another new outfit." Joe grinned evilly, "then again, she does like to shop…"

He took the box containing my two outfits out of my backpack and placed it on a shelf next to another box, which he took down and placed on Mistress Monica’s chair. "You are not to open it until you shower, shave off any body hair, and apply moisturizer. You are then to kneel in front of the Mistress’s chair naked until she commands you otherwise."

He grabbed my head in his two mitts and kissed me full on the lips. Joe was just a perverted toady to the Mistress, but I knew better than to resist. He grinned to the camera in the ceiling and left me alone.

I did as I was commanded, carefully shaving what little body hair I had. It took a while as I had never done it before. As I stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror, I found myself getting excited at the sight of my own smooth body. My nipples were slightly more sensitive than the day before and I wondered if that was from my "sexual awakening". Whatever it was, as I applied the moisturizer, I gave in to temptation and concentrated a little extra time on my aroused penis. I climaxed quickly, staring at myself in the mirror and wondering what it would be like to be fully female.

Feeling a little more relaxed, I knelt on the rug in front of the big chair. I don’t know if I dozed off, but my knees were cold and sore when I finally heard Monica’s voice over a hidden speaker.

"Sissy Chrissy, you will arise and try on your new outfit," came the mistress’s voice.

I rose and opened the box. It was the trashiest slut outfit I’d ever seen. As usual, Mistress Monica knew just how to humiliate me. There was a garter belt made of black leather, with thin gold chains draped around it and lacy black straps. The stockings were fishnet, and the panties were transparent black lace with an open crotch. The black patent-leather pumps had stiletto heels, and a stretchy black tube-top barely covered the fake breasts and strapless lace bra. The black spandex miniskirt confined my manhood. I could barely stand as I heard the next pronouncement from my mistress, "You will be punished for masturbating without permission in the bathroom, of course."

Damn! That woman must have cameras everywhere! And I was so sure I would make her proud of me today. Of course, that was also before I tried standing in those high-heels and had to keep steadying myself to stay upright. Luckily, that didn’t last long before I heard the familiar heavy footfalls of Joe "Igor" on the stairs.

"Mmm. Don’t you just look delicious? Maybe the Mistress will give me permission to have some fun with you before the night is over." He licked his lips, but then looked at the camera and winced slightly. I was led over to a hard wooden chair that was still in view of the camera. I sat down and Joe guided my arms and legs through loops of rope built into the chair, and then pulled them tight. Straps hanging from the sides of the chair were brought around my buxom chest and pulled taut, and finally a strap was cinched around my forehead so I could not turn my head.

Joe went to the shelf again and came back with a box full of cosmetics. "Mistress wants me to practice this so she won’t have to do it herself all the time. So be good and don’t move or I will mess up and get in trouble. Then next time I won’t be so gentle with you."

Confined to the chair as I was, I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to. Joe started with my fingernails, which he painted shiny black. He worked on my face carefully, and I even sat still when he did my eyes. He worked the longest on my eyes.

Sure enough, when Joe was finished with me and brought out a small mirror to show me my reflection, my face matched my outfit. I looked fully like a two-dollar whore after Joe’s makeover - apart from my hair. That was quickly remedied as I was released from the chair and Joe fitted me with a wig of stringy blonde, medium-length hair. I could have fit right in on any sleazy street corner. The spiked heels even made me walk with a certain shaky feminine saunter.

Saunter I did, as I was led over to the new "sawhorse thingy" and Joe fitted me with a leather blindfold. I was then bent over the sawhorse length-wise. I was strapped tightly to the legs of the sawhorse thingy with leather straps about my knees, calves, and upper thighs. My waist was bound with thick rope to the cross-member of the horse, spreading my fake boobs apart and pulling at the sensitive skin they were adhered to. Loose chains on the opposite side of the horse were locked around my wrists.

There was a long pause and I made the best of it to try to get into a more comfortable position on the horse. My legs were bound so tightly, there wasn’t much I could do to adjust. I could hear Joe working away at something. Little did I realize I was about to get very uncomfortable anyway. While I lay there with my head on the padded horse, I suddenly felt cold metal hooks inserted into my nostrils. My head was drawn up by the hooks as high as it would go with me bound to that bench.

Tears came to my eyes as the thick hooks pressed into my nose. A large metal ring was placed in my mouth and strapped in place behind my head so I couldn’t close my mouth. "Have fun," Joe said, and walked a short distance away. Presently, I could hear a faint rhythmic slap of skin, and I knew what Joe must be doing. I never liked Joe, despite a growing respect for my Mistress. At least the Mistress bought me pretty things. Her "training" seemed more out of caring than Joe’s casual abuse.

As usual, I was left this way for probably ten minutes. It seemed like an eternity, and my mouth was getting dry as the saliva simply ran down my chin with nothing to stop it. Mistress Monica’s familiar heels finally came tapping down the stairs, along with another lighter clicking noise.

I heard the familiar squeak of leather on leather as the Mistress sat in her lounge chair, and the lighter footsteps stopped in front of me. "Joe," she started, "you’ve been bad."

"Yes Mistress, but I didn’t touch Chrissy after you told me not to, just myself."

"Joe, you are one sick puppy. If I didn’t need your muscle you’d be out on the street," she growled. She addressed me in a kinder voice, "Sissy Chrissy. You are starting to learn your role, and I think you are starting to enjoy it. Today, I am giving you a new test. If you do well, you will receive a less severe punishment later. Joe, do your duty."

I heard Joe move, and I heard a scraping of hard-soled shoes on the floor in front of me. I felt soft cotton material brush up against my face. Somebody was being bound in front of me. I heard the hum of a motor and felt nylon-clad legs rub up against my hands as the person in front of me must have been raised off the floor. I felt Joe’s hands lift the cotton material in front of me and felt nylon against my face.

I realized at that moment what was coming next, and I desperately wanted out of this situation. But any struggling on my part would probably get me punished, so I tried to remain still. It was hard not to move as the person in front of me had their nylons pulled down and I felt a semi-rigid penis inserted into my mouth through the ring. Luckily this penis was fairly small and I didn’t gag as a rope about the person’s waist was tightened, drawing the penis fully into my mouth.

A few minutes later, I heard the familiar sound of a crop. Surprisingly, it wasn’t striking me. It must have been the person in front of me taking the beating because each time I heard that sound, the person in front of me would spasm and grind their body hard into my face. I knew what that crop felt like and I’m sure I would be doing the same thing. Out of sympathy, I did the only thing I could to comfort the person taking the beating – I gave his/her penis gentle strokes with my tongue.

As the member in my mouth grew, I did end up gagging a little, though I quickly learned to swallow on the thrusts, easing the pressure on the back of my throat. It seemed like twenty minutes went by like that before I finally felt the hot liquid squirt down my throat. What little of it I tasted wasn’t that bad – just a little salty. I felt the person in front of me relax. Apart from less size in my mouth, his/her nylon-clad legs were now banging loosely into my arms. I tried to reach them and caress them as they swung, and my tongue strokes became gentler.

Still the beatings kept up for a few minutes until Mistress Monica told Joe to stop. "Very good, Sissy Chrissy. I am very pleased. Joe – only ten whacks for Chrissy." They were hard whacks. I managed to keep silent.

"Joe, it seems to me that these two like each other. Why don’t you let them have some more time together? –Perhaps on our special table there? Remove Chrissy’s ring-gag, but not her blindfold. We don’t want anything to interfere with her experience."

Joe let the person in front of me down and attached that person to the "special table". Then I was released from my horse and led to the same table. I was chained spread-eagled to the table on top of the other person, who was also chained spread-eagled. My legs were just inside the other person’s so that our erect penises made contact through the soft material. I tried to keep my head up as my wrists were chained to my partner’s wrists. I still wasn’t comfortable with the male contact, though I had tried to make the best of it.

Of course, Joe had different ideas. He pulled up both of our skirts and pulled down my partner’s nylons to make sure we made ample male contact. The evil goon. Still, my partner and I were both semi-erect.

"Come servant. You have other duties to attend to," Mistress Monica announced. Both sets of footsteps echoed on the wooden steps as the ascended out of the basement. I was left alone with my partner-in-bondage, trying to make as little contact as possible. It was a strain on the neck, but we had both been through enough.

It is at exactly such times that you find strange bedfellows. We both lay there on the table for a long time. No release from our bondage seemed to be forthcoming. If either of us moved, we would rub together in a very pleasurable way. Eventually, both of our erections grew and we both felt it. My partner was shaved as well, and it was a warm, smooth feeling. I apologized to my partner, not wanting to make matters worse, but the answer I got surprised me.

I felt a pair of warm lips press themselves against mine. They were soft and sweet. After the initial shock wore off, I found myself returning the kiss. I’d never been kissed by a girl before, and although I knew this wasn’t a girl, I found myself enjoying it. Soon our tongues were massaging each other and the kissing became more passionate. Seemingly by silent consent, we both began grinding our members into each other. I came in just minutes, while my partner, spent as he/she was, took significantly longer. But we kept kissing and grinding long after both of us were done.

We were both sticky wet. Again, I felt ashamed. "Sorry, I’ve never done that before. I don’t know what came over me."

The only answer I got was a playful nibble on my upper lip and another round of tongue caresses. I’m not sure how long it went on, but we were interrupted by Joe’s heavy footfalls coming down the stairs.

"Alright, that’s enough of that you too. Damn Chrissy, dress you up like a slut just once and you take right to the role," he said as he released me from the table. I reached up to remove my blindfold so I could meet my bondage partner, but Joe grabbed my hands and said, "Nope. Not yet. The Mistress wants to save some surprises for later."

I heard him release the other person and start up the stairs with him/her. "You can change after the door shuts. Stay in view of the camera please – we have been shooting video for possible future use."

"Joe is such a jerk," I thought, as I heard the footfalls ascend. He loved to see me afraid – and I was. I was very afraid of what Joe might do with that video just to humiliate me…

 

 

 

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© 2002 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.