The Degradation of Chris

by Ami Lamida
tieduptv@hotmail.com

 

Chapter 5

 

My parents were pretty much self-serving. I'm sure that if they had suspected anything was wrong they would have been mortified – but not out of any sense of love. No, they just wouldn't want people to know they were bad parents. It wasn't about responsibility so much as image. I think that's why they had me in the first place – the outward image of them being responsible parents. It was a lie, but I was not in a position to prove them wrong without a whole lot of public shame.

There are probably more parents like mine than anyone knows. I see other kids like me all the time. Most of them are hanging out at places like malls and such – young kids without any parents around. Some of them end up perpetrating petty crimes and getting into some kind of trouble, but most seem to come through their childhoods unscathed. No, I was not alone in having uncaring parents, but I believed I was alone in being compelled and blackmailed into become a sissy-slave…at least until yesterday.

There had been another sissy-slave in my mistress's dungeon yesterday and I had been forcefully "introduced", though I never got to see my partner-in-bondage because of my blindfold. Come to think of it, that other slave had never even said a word. Yet in our short time together, we seemed to bond (no pun intended). Yes, I seem to have found a friend and I was no longer alone.

My schoolwork had suffered somewhat because of the time it had taken me to adjust to my circumstances. But I had come through that initial depression, and I had even studied a little last night. I decided I was prepared for whatever humiliation Mistress Monica wanted to test me with. It was with that false self-assurance that I went to school that next day.

It was a Friday, and the weekend was coming. I had planned out my weekend. I would endure whatever torture my mistress wanted to inflict, and then spend the rest of the weekend relaxing and exploring my new sexual awakening at home. My parents would probably find some excuse to leave me home alone as usual, but I was ready to take advantage of it this time. I felt a certain adrenaline rush at the thought of prancing around at home in my mom's cutest outfits.

I tried to keep those thoughts to a minimum as I sat in classes though. Each time those fantasies would pop into my head I would start shaking with excitement and could feel the blush on my face. I knew if anyone noticed me it would be obvious that I was aroused.

In science class, I noticed that Tabitha didn't look back at me once. I felt a little relieved, but also a little disappointed. I liked her. I could really have used a person to talk to, but I didn't really know her that well. I suppose even if she were my best friend I might never have told her about it.

That "mystery girl" instinct kicked in again, and I found my attention drawn to Tabitha more than ever before. "At least I'm not gay," I told myself, finding my attraction to Tabitha growing. That had been nagging at me from the back of my mind since yesterday. I had been forced to perform sexually with another male, but that male was obviously in female guise, so it hadn't affected me as forcefully as it probably should have. Now, sitting here in science class, I laid those homo-phobic fears to rest. I definitely wasn't gay. Maybe you could call it bisexual, but I couldn't think of a single male at school that I found attractive in any way. Whatever it was, I was fine with it.

I wondered if I had somehow offended Tabitha yesterday when I'd run away from her. I made up my mind to make contact with her after class. Besides, I could see from behind that she was wearing a cute outfit today and I wanted a better look. Thus motivated, I tapped her on the shoulder after class.

"Tabitha?" She looked up from gathering her books, and I continued in a rush, "I hope I didn't offend you yesterday. I guess I am kind of sensitive lately and I really can't explain why."

She smiled slightly and her whole face seemed to light up. "Why don't you walk me to my next class?"

That was not exactly the response I expected, but I helped her gather her books and carry them to her next class. As we strolled down the hall, I stole a few glances at her outfit. It was very reminiscent of a fifties schoolgirl. She had a long ribbon tying her auburn hair into a pony tail, a soft pink sweater covering her subtle curves, a black woollen skirt (sans poodle), tan hose, and something similar to saddle shoes, but all black. No bobby socks, but you can't have everything. She wore it well, better in fact than most girls could have. A more "classical beauty" wouldn't have looked right in that outfit, but Tabitha had the short, petite physique that says more "cute" than "beautiful".

I think she caught me looking – it was hard not to, but she didn't comment on it. She merely smiled and asked, "Are you ready to talk to someone?"

I wasn't. "Not really," I answered. But I thought maybe we could be friends if the offer is still good. I don't have many, and…well…I've noticed you don't hang out with anyone…really."

A sly grin crossed her face, but she said, "I think I'd like that. Just don't be surprised when you find out that being my friend isn't an easy thing."

Huh? "What do you mean?" I inquired.

"Oh nothing," she replied. "You'll find out in time. Anyway, thanks."

I was getting more confused by the second. I could see how being her friend could be difficult. "Thanks for what?"

"Just for making my life easier and being so sweet," she explained. Then she stood on her toes to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

Surprised and confused, I stood there in the hall looking like a total dufas while she took her books from me and strolled into her next classroom. There was nothing I understood about this girl and everything I liked. I cursed myself for temporarily forgetting what I became after school – a sissy slave. What kind of relationship could I hope to have with a normal girl? What would she do if she found out? I had wanted someone to talk to about my situation, and I ended up entertaining a relationship with this girl.

When I arrived at Mistress Monica's house that afternoon, there was something different in the atmosphere. I couldn't decide why I felt that way, but something felt different. Maybe it was just me. I felt I was ready to take whatever the Mistress felt inclined to deal out. But that strange feeling continued as I was led down into the basement dungeon.

"Strip and kneel," Monica's gorilla, Joe ordered. "The Mistress will be doing your makeup today, so you will wait in the appropriate position." Without explaining further, he left.

I did as I was told. I assumed the position I'd taken yesterday – kneeling in front of the big leather chair that Mistress Monica ruled her domain from. Minutes later, when I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I carefully kept my eyes on the floor in front of me. As Monica's feet came into view, I noticed she didn't have on the normal "domina" attire she had worn previously. In fact, she was wearing smart-looking low-heeled pumps and beige hose.

The Mistress sat down and crossed her legs. With the toe of her shoe, she lifted my chin so I was forced to look at her. Sure enough, she was dressed conservatively in a dark-blue business suit. The skirt was tight – some kind of cotton blend, I guessed. It came down to just over her knees and had a short slit in the back. She had on a tight jacket over a plain but delicate-looking white blouse. Her hair had been pulled up tightly in back and she was wearing thin-framed, round glasses. She could have gone to any board-meeting looking as she did.

"Have you been taking the pills I gave you, my newest sissy?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, as she studied me closely. She ran a finger across my cheek.

"Well, it will take some time. You really didn't have far to go to begin with."

I hadn't really known the purpose of the pills until that moment. All I knew is I'd better take them if I wanted to avoid the needle. Obviously, they were some kind of hormones. I now had something new to worry about. Would those pills make me even more feminine? Would my breasts grow? That was all I needed to become even less popular at school. I decided then to just drop out of school if things got bad. I'd abandoned all thoughts of college long ago anyway.

"You will call your parents," she stated as she picked up a cordless phone from the chair. "Leave them a message that you are spending time at a friend's house and you won't be home until sometime on Sunday."

My plans for the weekend were crushed, and my fear factor rose sharply. I didn't think I could handle that much time under the strict crop of Mistress Monica. But I did as I was told, knowing the consequences if I didn't. When I was done, I offered the phone back to Monica.

She took the phone with a smile. There was an uncomfortable silence, and I knew the gears in her head were turning. I knew I had a long, hard weekend ahead of me.

"Come closer so I can do your makeup," she commanded. I crawled up to the chair while she picked up a makeup case from beside the chair. She leaned forward and commenced putting on my makeup. She took care, but used the makeup sparingly. After doing my nails in a pale pink, and a lot of fussing, she finished and held up a mirror for me to see.

I was lovely. Even with the short, boyish hair I had, you would have thought I was a girl from the neck up. It wasn't a lot of makeup, but it was put in all the right places. It wasn't the slut-makeup job Joe had done either. It was the face of a teen girl about my age. It was unbelievable.

"The things you will need for our outing today are hanging in the bathroom. You will finish dressing and wait at the bottom of the stairs," she ordered.

Obediently, I got up and started towards the bathroom. Halfway there, I stopped suddenly. The full import of that last statement finally hit me. Did she say OUTING??! My foolish self-assurance was suddenly shattered. She was going to make me go out in public!

I heard a chuckle from behind me. "That's right…NOW GET GOING!"

I managed to get moving again, but the possibility of getting recognized terrified me. I had no bigger fear than being outted to the whole school as a sissy. Yet I had no choice. There was no way out.

I somberly donned the outfit the Mistress had selected for me. There were the usual false breasts and a curly blonde wig to start with. Simple white panties and a minimally lacy bra had been laid out. My hose were beige and soft like Monica's. There was a white satin full slip that went on next. The dress was made of light cotton and was yellow with small blue and green wildflowers on it. It had short, gathered sleeves, making the shoulders puff out a bit and a plain, round collar. The large white buttons buttoned all the way down the front and it had a wide elastic gathering around the upper waist. The dress came down just below my knees. It was conservative for girls clothing, I knew, but a little dressier than what a girl would wear to school.

After donning the white, patent-leather flats with the big bow at the toe, I stood to see how I looked. A bit of my earlier confidence came back. I couldn't even tell it was me. The petite figure in the mirror looked nothing like a boy. There was no gaudiness to draw anyone's attention. I knew I could pass for a girl in public. My Mistress had shown me some kindness after all.

I wasn't "hot", but I still found the feeling of being dressed up thrilling. I felt a certain augmentation in my panties, but it was held in check by my underwear and hidden by the loose folds of the dress. I was nervous but ready.

Monica was gone when I came back to the dungeon, so I waited by the stairs as I had been told. A few minutes passed and I had to resist the urge to play with myself. The slip moved so nicely under my dress and the temptation was strong. I kept fidgeting around with the dress, just avoiding that sensitive area that could get me into messy trouble.

It wasn't long until I heard the door open and Monica's voice call down, "Come up here Chrissy."

I tried to adjust to the role of a girl as I ascended. I tried to step delicately and keep my arms loose. I knew that to be passable in public, I'd have to act more feminine. I hadn't had any coaching on it, but I'd watched girls for long enough I thought I could handle it.

Monica noticed my efforts as I topped the stairs and said, "Very good start, Chrissy. But we have a little work to do before we go out. To start with take little steps…" She continued to coach me for about an hour. It wasn't easy. Not only did I have to learn how to walk, I had to learn how to stand, sit, and talk. At the end of the training she told me, "that will do for our outing. You will pick other things up later. Just remember not to speak unless I speak to you first. You will be my shy niece just in from Chicago. If you play your part well, the rest of your weekend will not be so bad for you."

She got up and offered me her hand. I tried to take it with a loose wrist as she had taught me to do and rose to go. "Joe, we are leaving," Monica called. Joe entered from a side room. He had on dress slacks and a tie. He actually looked human, though not as professional as the Mistress. They led me down the hall and out the door where I paused slightly. "Here I go," I thought.

The wind kicked up my dress a bit and I nearly panicked. "Now I know why a lot of women don't wear dresses much," I thought. It was a light wind, so it only revealed a little extra leg – something I enjoyed seeing on other "girls". I calmed myself and followed the pair who was supposed to be my aunt and uncle. We got into a black BMW and set off to wherever we were going.

I figured we'd go to a mall or something, but we ended up in front of a big, white house. It wasn't a mansion, but it had been meticulously landscaped. It had pretty bushes and flowers all around and some well-manicured grass. I was led to the front door and Mistress Monica rang the bell.

A woman in a casual green dress answered the door. She was probably forty-something, but trim and somewhat attractive. She wasn't dressed like Monica, so the idea that this was a professional meeting was out. I never would have guessed what we were doing there. "Come in, come in," she trilled. "I'm so glad you were able to come. So THIS is your niece. She's just lovely."

Okay, so she told somebody I was coming. The clue didn't help. I still wasn't prepared for what I would have to deal with next.

"Go on in to the dining room honey, they have already opened the presents," she said and pointed towards a door down the hall.

"Dining room??! Presents??!" I groaned inwardly. I'd been taken to a birthday party. That means I would be expected to fit in with girls around my age. I looked pleadingly at my Mistress, but she narrowed her eyes, and I knew I had no choice.

"You were right, she is darling…" I heard, as I walked to the end of the hall. Through the glass doors of the dining room, I could see an all-girl birthday party already in progress. Presents had already been opened and the girls were busily talking while partaking of the cake. There was semi-loud pop music in the background, and nobody really noticed me when I sidled in and sat gingerly on a chair by the door.

Things had gone very well so far, except that when I looked around, I discovered I knew a lot of these girl's faces from school. As my eyes went from face to face, I got my biggest shock of the evening. In a corner on the opposite side of the room, keeping to herself, was Tabitha.

I would have bolted right then and suffered the consequences from my Mistress except that of everyone at the party, she was the only one looking directly at me. Staring, really – she had a very curious look on her face. Perhaps it was just that she was shy and I appeared to be acting shy as well, but she simply stared at me.

The other girls were getting kind of rowdy, and I don't think anyone paid any attention to either of us as she rose and started walking towards me. My heart raced and my panic rose. Did she recognize me? Was she going to 'out' me to all these girls from school? Some of these girls were popular and a few words from them could ruin me completely. Still they didn't seem to notice as Tabitha drew near me.

"Hi, I'm Tabitha," she quietly announced. I just waved at her and smiled, not wanting to give her any more clues that it was me under this getup. She studied me for a few seconds and declared, "You didn't bring a present." I then realized I hadn't.

She waited for a response, and when there was none, she walked to the doorway and said, "Can I see you out in the hallway for a minute?"

My heart pounded and my knees were wobbly as I stood and went out into the hallway. She shut the door behind us. I turned and knew that my life was over at Anderson High. She had a devious look on her face. She slowly walked a circle around me, looking me over, inch by inch. I was nailed and I knew it. I felt tears of shame welling up at being outted like this - and by a girl I had liked so much.

"That's a nice dress," she started. "I like the shoes too. You fit right in at this lame party – except for being a boy, that is." She stopped and looked up at my face. My tears began to run down, and immediately her expression softened. "Chris, it's okay. I knew you had a secret, remember?" She pulled a tissue from a little table in the hall and blotted the tears from my eyes. I started to feel slightly better – maybe I hadn't lost the friend I'd made today after all.

After she blotted my eyes, she gave me another gentle kiss on the cheek. I felt a flush come over me as she held my hands and stepped back to admire me. "Look at you. You're beautiful. You put some of those girls in there to shame. You make a very lovely girl." My cheeks got redder at the compliments, and I was at a loss for words. Thankfully, she whispered, "its okay. This will be our little secret. Nobody has to know – and I don't think anyone will ever figure it out except me. I have the advantage of having memorized your eyes and your expressions. Let's go back in and enjoy the party."

I allowed myself to be led back into the party. We took seats where I had previously been sitting and Tabitha touched up my makeup a bit. She pretty much kept quiet throughout the party, but would occasionally squeeze and hold my hand. Girls can be so much more physically expressive than boys. Her touch was comforting and I felt myself relaxing and even smiling. I could have sat there for hours, but after only twenty minutes, Monica came to get me.

"Come on Chrissy. We have to go," she announced.

Tabitha and I waved at each other. "Goodbye, Chrissy," she said with a little too much emphasis on the "Chrissy". I looked to see that we were still being generally ignored by the other girls, and then gave her another wave. I left feeling like a new…er, girl. That hadn't been so bad.

"Did you make any new friends this evening, Sissy-boy?" Monica teased with her degrading appellation. "I noticed you were sitting with a very pretty little girl."

"She was a friend from school, Mistress. I nearly thought she would out me when she recognized me, ma'am."

"Oh, really. She recognized you, huh? That will earn you some severe punishment for later. You must not have been conducting yourself like a proper young lady like I taught you."

"But Mistress, I was! She said she recognized my eyes."

"Hmm, talking back – that will earn you another punishment. Care to try for more?"

I shut up for the rest of the trip back to her dungeon. Like I said, it was going to be a long weekend…

Back at the dungeon I was ordered to remove and carefully hang up my dress and prepare for my punishment. Nothing could prepare me for the punishment I had in store for me.

"For your punishment, I have decided to let Joe have his way with you. Joe, make him as uncomfortable as possible, then when you are done, you are to flog him soundly for his insubordination. Then come to me and perform your 'other' duties." Mistress Monica turned and left. I was at the mercy of the ape-man who had started all this.

"I've got just the thing for you." I was visibly shaking. I had been abused by this pig before.

He returned with a long pipe that had eyelets on either end and at the middle and that dreaded leather hood with the penis gag and the built-in blindfold. He tied my hands behind my back with some cotton rope and put the hood on and locked it. I heard a humming and the rustling of a chain just before I was pulled off the ground by the top of my hood.

Hanging by your head, no matter how well encased, is no picnic, but it didn't last long. My ankles were tied to either end of that metal pipe Joe had retrieved and my legs were hoisted into the air until they were above and slightly forward of my head. That basically left my legs spread and my butt open to whatever may come. However, "whatever" didn't come right away.

Nothing happened at first, and I could feel the blood pounding in my head. My feet were icy cold and throbbing in those patent flats. I couldn't pull myself up or shift positions with my hands tied behind me. I knew I couldn't stay in this position for long stay conscious.

I didn't have to wait long for Joe's meaty hands to start caressing my legs, thighs, butt, and fake boobs. He even kissed my neck, showing unusual gentleness. His hand moved to my member where he used the slip to caress me and make me hard. But then he pulled down my hose and panties from my butt and began to apply the lube.

I don't know how many times I passed out while he pounded himself inside of me. I have to admit; he had me right where he wanted me and could easily swing and position me at will. He was just too big inside me, and with the pain and the constriction of my hood, I was surprised I survived at all. After passing out several times I awoke to feel a warm liquid running out of my violated opening as I swung there, helpless.

Joe had finished with me, but I remembered the Mistress's command about the flogging, and I knew that hadn't happened yet. Mercifully, Joe untied my hands from behind my back and bound them to the metal pipe, easing the pressure from my hood.

In general, a flogging isn't as bad as a cropping, given an equal zest. Cropping brings on sharp pains and leaves a biting sting that lasts, while flogging has more of a warming sting that fades. The only problem is if it isn't administered expertly, a flogging is more likely to strike a sensitive area – repeatedly. Joe was NOT an expert.

My whole backside was on fire by the time Joe quit. I didn't pass out, but you know that sick feeling you get when you get whacked in the wrong spot? I got that a lot.

It was probably only ten minutes later that Joe stopped. Much to my chagrin, though, I wasn't released from my suspension. My panties and hose were pulled back up over my hot cheeks, and my knees were tied to something above me. Then a rope was passed around my waist, through my butt, through the waist rope again and tied up to the ceiling too. A last rope was tied around my chest and to the ceiling and Joe called out, "G'night sweety," as I heard him click the light off.

My bed had been made and now I was going to sleep in it…

 

 

 

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© 2003 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.