This story is purely fictional and meant for adult audiences only! All resemblance to actual persons is coincidental. It contains graphic sex described in first person narration by its transgendered, teenage protagonist. If you are not an adult, or if you find this type of material offensive, please stop reading and dispose of this file. You have been warned of the content. If you proceed neither the author nor the site host will be held responsible!

 

The Greatest Lie

by Alexandra Rios©

 

Chapter 7

Discipline

 

The horrible memory of my crackhouse ordeal faded much as the lurid surgical site on my abdomen faded to a faint pink smile at my bikini line. I went off the AIDS cocktail after one awful month of constant nausea, and was pronounced antibody-free. My surgeons pronounced me healed and recovered. Naturally, I immediately started thinking about sex.

Tran had received our orders from our S&M Slavemaster. She told me we had been summoned to the dungeon for slave training and punishment: a driver would deliver a $1,500 payment to Tran’s apartment and would carry us into our enslavement over the Thanksgiving weekend. We would be freed and returned on Sunday night, and receive the balance of the slave payment. "I dunno, Tran, these guys sound pretty weird. Don’t they have families or anything? "

"They pick us up on Friday, after Thanksgiving. They’re a little kinky, but your porno movie guy doesn’t write. We need money."

"You’re right, I’m going do it. But I’m scared. You’ve been with this guy before, right?"

"I think so."

"I hope you know what you’re doing."

But we didn’t have any choice. Streetwalking in Minneapolis is a bad way to make a living in late November, and I was too busy anyhow.

I had been practically virginal since the crackhouse debacle, and I didn’t relish my first experience to be under a jackbooted slave master. Rick and Randy really deserved to have me first. They had been so nice to me after my surgery: carrying my books to class in the first weeks when I was too weak to carry them; bringing me lattes when the AIDS drugs left me too sick to eat. And they had been patient and gentle with me sexually, although the made their desires very evident. My lips had grown very experienced in pleasuring them, but I knew they wanted more. At last, I was able to give it. And I wanted it. For the last two weeks, every time I thought about it, my ass tingled with desire.

As I finished helping them edit papers on "The Sun Also Rises", I said, "Rick, Randy, we have a difficult decision to make."

They looked confused and concerned, and I let the moment linger in the air. Then I wrapped my arms around them and confided "We have to decide who gets to fuck me first."

They let out a simultaneous whoop of joy and high-fived one another. I just smiled and said "I leave the choice to you," and I retired to my bathroom to prepare.

From behind the door, I heard them discussing the issue heatedly but amicably, as they recounted and compared their respective acts of kindness and generosity toward me in the last month. Finally, I heard a tapping on the door, and Rick’s voice saying "We can’t decide. You have to." I stepped out, looking ravishing in the Victoria’s Secret negligee that mom had sent. I produced a scarf, and said "blind fold me." They did, and I said "Spin me around, and don’t say anything. I call this game ‘Blind Girl’s Bluff.’" Their large firm hands twirled me. I stopped, groped forward and put my arms around a muscled torso. "Randy, it’s your lucky day. Sorry, Rick."

"Fair’s fair," he said contentedly as he lay back on my bed, and I bent over and began fellating him, my bums high in the air, awaiting Randy. With his suffering and abstinence at an end, Randy needed no stimulation or instruction. He expertly tore open a condom, slipped it on, and began massaging my expectant, tight rectum with lubricant. I murmured pleasure through my cock-filled lips as he first rimmed, and then gently entered my taut ring of pleasure with his probing fingers. My sphincters involuntarily snapped greedily at him, and he pressed onward and penetrated me, as my murmur rose to a cock-muffled moan of pleasure. I stuffed my throat with all of Rick’s cock in response. Randy kneeled between my parted thighs and pressed his cock against my expectant ass. I deep throated Rick furiously as Randy’s teased me with tentative thrusts that probed without penetrating. I was desperate when at last he rewarded me with a deliciously perfect penetration, and the momentary rush of pain erased my month of frustration and craving. My body shivered with pain and satisfaction with Randy’s athletic fucking, and in unison I crashed Rick’s cock past my tonsils and down my esophagus. For a few blissful moments I felt like the perfect slut, with two perfect lovers. But my mind raced ahead of my body, and soon I fantasizing about myself as a woman, taking on Rick and Randy in a true front and back threesome, sandwiched with Rick’s cock in my new pussy and Randy up my ass. And then, I had to make the fantasy real.

My ass felt so lubricated, springy and ready, that I knew I could take them both at once. I slowed my throat fucking of Rick’s nearly orgasmic and fully distended member, and though he at first kept pushing my head down, he let me speak. "I want you both inside me," I uttered through bruised lips. They let me take control. I extracted Randy from behind me. He lay face up on the bed, and I sat astride him and speared my ass back down on his bobbing, swollen cock. I leaned forward to point my filled ass into the air, and he gobbled my breasts as they wobbled over him. I beckoned Rick to kneel between me, and slipped my finger between my rectum and my cock filled ass. I stretched myself mercilessly, and Rick saw what I wanted he plunged his cock into the tiny, crescent shaped crevasse I had opened. His cock slid over my finger tip and nestled beside Randy’s cock inside me. I felt skyrockets of pain and ecstasy shoot through me, as though the rocket engine of an ill-fated space probe had malfunctioned and exploded within. The double fucking launched me into a fantasyland of dreamy ecstasy. In my imagination, I was a beautiful human princess, abducted by aliens and raped by a two cocked mutant to create a new master race. My human lovers’ cocks slid past or with each other, burrowing deep and wide and excavating the last drops of semen from my shrunken, vestigial prostate: not a true penile orgasm, but sensual and exquisite release from the last remnants of my past. They plunged together, alone, and endlessly, and when they came at last, we all were completely exhausted.

I awoke feeling empty, but fulfilled. My two hunky studs were pulling up their manly boxers as my weary eyes fluttered and reawakened. Randy voiced their common sentiment: "Wow, Allie, you’re great." Rick added, "I didn’t even think that was possible." I responded, "With you two on board, I’m capable of anything. I’ve got a few more surprises for you yet."

"Whoa, I can’t wait, tell, tell," they babbled excitedly, interrupting each other and me.

"See what Santa brings," I said teasingly.

They went off to the dorm laughing and chatting. I was left alone to savor what a delight this unlikely menage a trois had become, and what fantastic delights it held for the future.

The next day they came by to kiss me goodbye for the long weekend. I thrilled at each of them crushed me in a long, romantic embrace and mashed my lips in deep, endless kisses. I love to be kissed even more than I love to get fucked, and Rick and Randy had become world class at both. I felt like their beloved, and felt what I knew was a futile longing to become part of their straight, conventional world. But as locals, they had families to visit, and turkey dinners to eat, and my family had dissolved and scattered. I asked, feigning disappointment, "Don’t either of you want to take me home to meet your mom?" and they shuffled with abashedly. "Next year", Rick promised. You’ll probably want to, I thought silently as they departed.

Actually, it was OK. I hate the traditional Thanksgiving dinner: it’s way too heavy for a diet like mine. I enjoyed a light Asian dinner at Tran’s house, as we made plans and gossiped about our very kinky Thanksgiving celebration on the morrow. After dinner, we smoked a joint and watched an XXX rated bondage and S&M tape she had rented. We held hands and hugged one another for comfort during the really heavy parts. When it was over, I had to admit that I was a little turned on, but also scared.

"Is that what they’ll do to us?"

"I guess so, I don’t really know."

"Tran, I thought you knew this guy."

"I meet him for straight sex a couple times. He always want to take me away for bondage and I say no."

"Oh, great. What have we gotten ourselves into?"

I stayed at Tran’s house and we got high until we finally got sleepy. We went to bed together. I woke up on the middle of the night, scared and shaking from a nightmare. Carlos had me tied to the bed and was getting ready to slit my throat. I reminded myself that Carlos was dead, but I was wide awake with fear. I nudged Tran. She nodded sleepily. I needed some company, so I decided to wake her in a sexy way. I looped my toe over the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs. She wriggled unconsciously and aided their descent. Then I slipped my lips around her tiny, uncut cock: it was barely bigger than mine, and tasted sweet and fresh, less meaty than a guy’s cock. She hardened and began moaning as I pressed my finger against her rectum. "Allie, what you doing? I’m sleeping." I kissed my way up her tummy and each of her beautiful, silicone enhanced breasts to her plump Asian lips and asked "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, but I want to suck you too." I swiveled around to a "69" position and we began tenderly sucking one another. I could no longer orgasm, but I loved the expert sucking and rectal massage she gave me. Beneath me, Tran's body writhed and spasmed has I sucked her and fingered her ass. She moaned and cried out in Vietnamese as her hips vibrated with ecstasy, and her cum trickled into my mouth. It was smooth and clean tasting. I lay next to her and we kissed. "You’re yummy," she said. I responded with words that surprised me as much as Tran: "I love you." "I love you too," she said. And with that sweet thought running through my mind, I fell back asleep."

We overslept and had to shower together to save time. Then we helped each other blow out our hair and with make up; the driver was to bring our clothing for the trip, so we breakfasted in bathrobes. A limo arrived for us at 11:00 a.m. The driver knocked on the door and silently handed us our wardrobe and what was marked as "The Slaves’ Payment: a stack of Franklins in a wax sealed envelope. We were given white lace panties and bras, a silky white nightie that barely covered our butts, and a long, closed cape of white linen, white pumps, and shiny wrist and ankle bracelets. We looked like the Vestal Virgins of Ancient Rome.

We got into the back of the limo, and the door auto locked as it slammed shut. The driver put the car in gear and I then notice that facing us was a masked and hooded figure. "Give me your hands," he ordered, and then slipped a lock over the two bracelets that adorned my hands. "You too, slut," he ordered Tran, who meekly complied. "Now," he said, "for your first lesson." He slapped each of us in the face. "Answer me, or any other master, ‘Yes, master’ whenever we deign to command you." "Yes master," we both responded. "That’s better. We don’t like to inflict pain, unnecessarily. We prefer to reserve it for ritual purposes. Now, our purpose here, is to restore you to your virginal states so that you can be deflowered properly. We know you have let your bodies be used for sinful pleasure and profit, and for this you must be punished and redeemed. Only then will you be worthy of being fucked by the members of our Order."

I decided that the best thing to do was play along. "We want to be made worthy of your rituals. We want to be purified in accordance with your rules and we bow to your methods."

Tran got the idea. "I want you to make me virgin again. I am sorry for all of my past bad behavior."

 

And so it went. Our master was satisfied with our sincerity and let us ponder our fates in silence as we road through icy fields to a remote estate. We pulled into an underground garage and the limo stopped. Our master helped us out and led us to a heavy oaken door and pounded a heavy iron knocker against an iron plate. The earsplitting noise roused the inhabitants, and the door opened to a gloomy, torch-lit interior. As our eyes adjusted, I saw a low dais occupied by seven shadowy figures, dressed much as our limo master, masked, and dressed in black leather garb adorned with sharp, decorative buckles and chains. "I have brought our novices, Ophelia (he gestured to me) and Desdemona." God, what an abuse of the Bard, I thought to myself, but at least we’re in the hands of literate sadists.

"Remove their clothes," ordered the Master seated at the center of the dais. We were stripped . "Illuminate them." Spotlights blinded us, and then dimmed as blindfolds covered our eyes. "Stay absolutely still," we were ordered. "Yes master," we answered. Boot-clad feet shuffled around us, and then I felt the twitch of a riding crop on my breast, my ass, my cockette, and then felt anonymous fingers touching my cheek, my nipples, and my rectum. I was being inspected. An angry voice bellowed, "Don’t move, bitch!" followed by the cruel snap of a riding crop against flesh, and I heard Tran whimper "I’m sorry master." I had winced at the crack of leather on Tran’s flesh, and cowered awaiting my own punishment, but I had evaded notice. From the dais, a voice commanded "Cleanse their bodies, and then we shall cleanse their souls."

I was led off alone by one of the masters. I groped blindly, and vivid, horrific flashbacks of the crackhouse terrorized me. This was different, I reassured myself. These were just a bunch of middle class kinks having some group therapy. I breathed deeply and tried to calm myself. I was in no real danger, I just had to play along with their game.

My naked body was shivering with cold and anxiety when the door opened to the pleasant aromas of a hot bath. Steam filled my nostrils and warmed my goose-bumped skin. My master helped me up over the high wall of the tub, and I plunged my foot in. "Thank you, master," I said, as the water enveloped me. "Oh master, please, it’s too hot!" Saying nothing, he grasped my shoulders and forced me into the scalding water. Involuntarily I rose up, and he scourged me with cruel blows from his riding crop, raising pink welts on my arms and back. "Water cleanses the body, obedience cleanses the soul, and pain cleanses the heart. So you must obey and suffer." My body had adjusted to the heat of the water, which was painful but not harmful. I grew drowsy as my master soaped and explored my body. My trussed hands made me helpless, and so I tried to enjoy my master’s little adventure, as he squeezed my breasts, stroked my cock and fingered my ass. All the while I murmured mock encouragement, "Oh yes my master, that feels wonderful, my master." It didn’t feel bad, and it was a lot better than a riding crop. At last he lifted my helpless, bound body from the tub, wrapped me in a robe, and ordered me to brace my arms against the sink and bend forward.

He lifted the back of my robe, parted my damp cheeks and applied some lubricant. Then he slipped the nozzle of a douche into my ass and pressed it as high as he could. I squirmed helplessly at this intrusion, but the warm rush of water into my abdomen overwhelmed and silenced me. Soon I felt pressure grow inside me, and I said "Please master, that’s enough." He growled "I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough" and poked viciously at my painfully distended stomach.

I’ve always liked the feeling of a colonic douching: the distinctly pregnant feeling made me feel vulnerable and feminine, and the squeaking clean feeling afterward made me feel deliciously fuckable. But it was taken to an extreme at this bizarre chateau. He filled me to the point of aching urgency, then sealed me with fat, painful butt plug. With my belly full to bursting and my hands tied, I felt as stuffed and helpless as Thanksgiving turkey. This was not the ideal time for my master to begin lecturing me about the importance of being utterly submissive in the holy ritual of sex. He emphasized his points by poking my taut stomach, which roiled painfully. I just kept agreeing and hoping he would finish sooner, so that I could get on to the next torture, whatever that was. When his lecture was through, he untied me, and locked me in the bathroom. He told me that I was to be ready for slave training in twenty minutes. I extracted the butt plug painfully and my insides emptied, leaving me purified. I hurried to blow dry my hair and freshen-up my make up. I applied lubricant liberally to my thoroughly scrubbed ass. He opened the door without knocking as I finished, wordlessly re-tied my hands behind my back and blindfolded me. He led me down a long corridor. I heard the sound of Tran’s voice sobbing, and shuddered in empathy of her suffering and in anticipation of my own.

My master halted me with a yank at my shoulder, then pushed me forward onto my knees. My torso tumbled forward onto a padded platform. He pushed cotton into my ears, and I was plunged into silence and blindness. My eyes strained to detect shadows, my ears for any sound. I heard muffled booms and cries, and felt phantoms passing though the room, but I was left alone. Sensory deprivation combined with apprehension to bring me to a near panic state. I breathed as steadily as I could, but was haunted by memories of the crackhouse, memories of Miguel and the others on Prom night. How had I gotten myself into this? I cursed my poverty, my selfish mother, and my own bad judgment. I caught myself as the brink of an abyss of self loathing and despair. I remembered that I was brilliant, nearly perfect, and ever aspiring to even greater perfection. I had been in far worse situations than this and I always triumphed. I felt sorry for Tran. She lacked my confidence and vision. From her terror-stricken voice in the distance, I sensed her suffering was real. I reminded myself that my suffering would be fabricated, a lie with which to fool these masters.

Then my nerves exploded, as my ass and cock were tickled with a million feathery fingers. I was overcome with sensation, and convulsed with over-stimulation as the feather duster explored my tush, my armpits, breasts and cockette. I was cooing with pleasure, and moaned "Oh, that feels so good" for the gratification of my master. He removed my earplugs, and spoke: "Now we begin your purification. This is pleasure; put it in your past, and learn to love pain." Suddenly, I felt white hot, biting pain on my nipples as a cruel clamp attached to each, and then another to my slender cock head and finally an excutiating clamp attached to one of the tight folds of my rectum. "Oh please, no, master, that hurts so much." "Shut up, slut," came the abrupt reply, accentuated by the smack of a thick paddle on my buttocks.

After the caressing feather duster, the paddle was a brutal blow that lit my buttocks afire. I writhed in pain, and twisted the vicious clamps, which then bit my tender flesh even more cruelly. Now each clamp was twisted, as if something was being attached, and I felt to my horror a slender wire drape over my thigh. I bit into the leather of the ottoman, but I could not suppress my cries as the first bolts of electricity surged between my erogenous zones, now each transformed into a torture site. When the current subsided, I was crying and I sobbed "Please, no more master, I can’t stand it." "Shut up, slut, we must purify your polluted soul."

"Please, I beg you, master …." I got no further before a harsh gag was placed over my mouth. Crying always makes me get stuffed up. Now I regretted my tears, which had congested my nose and blocked my breathing. I struggled to regain my breath, but I could not get enough air. Another surge of voltage fired through my bottom and my breasts, searing them with pain. Involuntary tears filled my eyes, and my breathing became even more labored. "You will not complain about pain: You will accept it, and learn to love it. Do you love pain?" I nodded my head furiously, and he removed my gag. I inhaled delicious oxygen, and whispered hoarsely "Yes master, I accept all pain as my purification. Please, give me more!" He fired another jolt through me, and after I had cried out in reaction I remembered to say "Thank you, master." After a few more of these, I was apparently purified, because he pulled the electrode clip from my ass and slathered me with lubricant. He pressed against my anal ring, which had been constricted to a pinhead by the electrical shocks. He could not enter, and I felt his cock softening in frustration. Fearing retribution for my continued impurity, I ventured "Master, if you will free me, I will help you." He released my bound hands, and I said "I want you in my mouth, master." He let me suck him back to rigidity, and I felt sure that I could squeeze his modest cock into my artificially narrowed hole. I said "Please fuck me, master," and when he mounted me I expertly guided him inside me. He responded by plunging heedlessly into me. I swallowed my pain and responded by saying "Oh yes, that feels good, fuck me harder, master."

He was regaining his confidence as his cock got comfortable in my lubricious ass, and he began babbling "I’m gonna fuck you hard, slut, I’m gonna fuck you to death," and such. I really hate this kind of chit chat during sex. True desire and pleasure can be communicated with a look, a smile, a grimace, a groan, or even a kiss, far more articulately than in words, especially crudities. But for this weirdo, I was willing to make an exception, so I responded, as though from a transcript of a porno flick, with the appropriate responses. "Oh yeah, fuck me harder, OOH, you’re so big, etc., etc." In fact, he didn’t have one-tenth the energy of Rick or Randy, and he was size was way below average. That, no doubt, was why this guy had to abuse me to get ready to get his rocks off. He was half-impotent, and no doubt his wife wouldn’t submit to this kind of crazy shit. By the time he came, I felt practically as if I were a spectator at a gladiatorial contest: I was satisfied with the outcome, but was ready to give the thumbs down. But instead, I said "Oh thank you master, for making me your fuck slave." He walked away wordlessly.

I won’t bore you with the rest of my weekend in hell. Suffice it to say I was purified and polluted repeatedly. The only part that really stood out was the moment where they tied me and Tran to side by side beds, and gave us the option of shocking each other instead of taking the voltage ourselves. Tran looked at me guiltily as she shunted the current to me and watched me suffer. But when they reversed our roles, I did not pull the toggle to route the electricity back to her. As my eyes blurred with agony, I tried to focus on her beautiful, oriental eyes, which I saw were filled with tears of sympathy. I blacked out with that vision in my mind. When I revived, I saw Tran’s lovely face contorted in agony, and I knew she was enduring the same anguish that I had just emerged from, refusing to shunt the current to me. Our tormentors soon bored of this game, and our weekend contract had expired.

We were taken back before the dais, where only two of our masters remained. "You have earned your freedom, but your purification is not complete. You are commanded to return on December 26. For now, you are free to go, and enjoined to maintain your condition of purity."

We were shown to the garage and carried back to Tran’s place in the limo. When we got there, the driver handed us an envelope stuffed with cash. A tip, I guess, but we still were thirty five hundred short our requirement for Thailand.

I stayed at Tran’s that night, and we clung to one another as we endured repeated nightmares. I was too stressed out to go to class, so I called Rick and got him to pick up our last homework assignment from Math 101; I stayed at her place studying. She took her phone off the hook and meditated before a Buddhist shrine in her bedroom, and I solved integrals and translated Chaucer to calm my nerves. At around noon, the mail came, including an envelope from California. Inside, Tran found an airline ticket to California, a check for a thousand bucks and a contract for another fifteen hundred from Kim Christie productions. I dressed and ran over to my apartment and found, to my relief, an identical letter to me. Fat fucking chance we would return to that dungeon on the 26^th, or ever. I was going to be impure at the first opportunity, and I already had plane reservations to Phuket Island, Thailand on the 26^th. We hugged and cried with relief and happiness: we would never go back to the dungeon again.

(continued)

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Alexandra Rios. 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.