Rhonda Girl

by Darlene LeQueene

March 25^th 2004

My aunt, my Dad's half-sister, met me at the gate of the train station I knew something had gone terribly wrong. I had never seen Aunt Monica before but I recognized her immediately. She had Dad's high forehead and wide-set gray eyes, just like my own. Her dark jet black hair fell to her shoulders, bare to the early August sun. Her teal blue power skirt suit nipped in her waist effectively below a pair of prominently displayed breasts, the top two buttons of the suit not being fastened. Her hips flared the loose skirt nicely and beautiful long black nylon clad legs ended in spike high heel pumps that matched her dress and the rather large leather bag she carried. Smiling, she called my name again,

"Rhonda! Rhonda, over here!" She didn't look like a Lesbian. Behind my aunt a large, golden Cadillac was parked on the crushed gravel of the train station. The woman standing beside the driver's door could best be described as striking. Over six feet tall in her heels, Natasha Wingate had short red hair, an angular face, deep-set blue eyes and arms that seemed larger and more muscular than my own legs. Her smallish breasts made round shapes beneath her sleeveless aqua jersey dress.

Her waist cinched in by a wide cinnamon belt made her figure seem more feminine. Slender hips, long, tawny legs and cinnamon, 3" high-heel pumps that were probably being ruined by the gravel completed her look; the look of a very successful, wealthy Lesbian. I would not have looked at Aunt Monica long enough to recognize her as a relative if she had not called my name. At eighteen, full of raging hormones, I did not look long at beautiful blondes for fear of staring. Small and slight, barely five feet three inches tall and not more than 90 pounds.

I felt all full of gawky, awkward insecurities and doubts. My own dark blond hair, shaggy now after six weeks without a haircut seemed constantly in rebellion. Puberty had finally arrived for me and my face threatened mutiny with pimple militia mustering just under the skin. Sometimes I hated myself but just then I felt afraid. Why weren't my parents here to pick me up, what had happened to them? They had been traveling in the Middle East, Iran Iraq, Israel...."Rhonda, honey," Aunt Monica called again. "You'll have to come here, we can't walk on this stuff in these shoes." She waved encouragement at me and Natasha grimaced.

I trudged across the fifty feet of gravel, dreading what I might hear. As I got closer I realized my aunt's mascara had left dark runnels on her cheeks and I began to cry. I hurled myself the last few feet against the aunt I hardly knew, weeping my fears uncontrollably. Through the storm of emotion, I heard her whisper, "There, there, honey. They're not dead, honey. At least, they're not dead they're just missing MIA." Relieved and astonished, I pushed myself back to look up at her. "Th-they're not?" "No, honey. We can't talk here, get in the car." After putting my stuff in the trunk, Natasha held the door for me and I slid into the seat behind the driver. We were soon on the highway to LA. On the trip, Aunt Monica told me that Dad had been captured by terrorists in Beirut and that Mom had gone into hiding in Europe since the terrorists wanted to capture her to use as leverage on him, they were very wealthy. "They might want to kidnap you or your Aunt Dolly," Natasha amplified.

"But why?" I protested through tears. Dolly comforted me, holding my head to her ample bosom. On one level, I enjoyed this while terrified as to the fate of my parents. Then Monica and Natasha told me about my parent's secret life as spies for an American CIA anti-terrorist group. The initials tortured a giggle from me. My parents, agents for the CIA? They told me their plan, we would go into hiding also. At a secluded house in California, and we would also be disguised. Aunt Monica would become a blonde, Dolly Dawn; and Natasha would disguise herself also, though no one should be looking for her. Natasha would finance this from her investment income made in the new field of biotechnology; she was willing to do this because she loved Aunt Dolly, she said. "What about me?" I asked. Aunt Monica patted my hand comfortingly, "We have something worked out for you, dear." "Something where no on will ever recognize you as their son."

I began wearing girl's clothing as soon as we reached the house. They had purchased a wardrobe for me. Mostly pretty party dresses and dress-up clothes. I protested vehemently but to no avail. "I can't wear these clothes!" "Of course you can, besides they are the only clothes we have provided for you. You can't go around naked now can you?" "I won't wear these girl's clothes!" I said, appalled and frightened by what they wanted me to do. They were adamant. "It's for your protection, dear," insisted Dolly. "It's the perfect disguise, no one will ever think of looking for you dressed as a girl." Finally, I relented. I had no other choice, I would wear dresses and learn to be a proper young girl. They assured me that it would probably all be over before summer ended and my college semester started.

The cover story was that I was Dolly's 19-year-old daughter Rhonda. Natasha became Dolly's husband, Mike, and supposedly my stepfather. Her disguise was almost more astonishing than my own. With her breasts bound down and dressed loosely in male clothing she no longer looked like a butch lesbian but looked every bit like a suburban Dad. My new "step dad" was very handy with tools, she could make anything out of wood or leather, rubber or metal. I doubted that I could pass as a fourteen-year-old girl but my transformation surprised me again. First my aunt gave me a definitely feminine if rather short cut.

She gave me a wig to wear until my hair grew out, a shoulder-length cascade of honey-blonde curls. The weight and feel of the wig seemed strange at first it took some getting used to having all that hair but soon I felt naked without my wig. Makeup did wonders for my angular features and the uneven texture of my skin. Padding at bust and hips gave my skinny body a feminine shape. I wore little school dresses in pinks and whites and lavender many of them with lacey ruffles at cuffs and around my neck. Some of the dresses may have been recreations from the fifties or even earlier, they had a classic look of the 1950's. Almost immediately they started my hormone treatment. At first I didn't know what was happening as my emotions began to behave like a roller coaster, constantly up and down with fits of giggles and bouts of tears. But soon physical changes began happening to my body. I tried to ask Dot and Natasha about this but they put me off.

Aunt Dolly assured me, "Such things are perfectly normal in a boy who is dressing as a girl. Your body is just adjusting to your new role in life." I wasn't that naive but I didn't have the nerve to press the issue against the adult confidence my aunt and her cross-dressed lover. Over the next two years I watched the transformation in my appearance with fear and wonder and a growing, guilty joy. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined all the changes to me. Never would I have suspected how far my Aunt was going to carry this crossdressing thing. My skin cleared up and the boniness of my face and form seemed to soften a lot. In less than two months, breast buds made little points of tenderness on my chest. My ass became rounder and more fleshy. Day to day, the changes seemed unnoticeable but week to week, month after month they added up.

By Easter, I wore a B-cup bra and no one would mistake my body shape for a boy's. My breasts were still pear-shaped which Aunt Monica said meant they were still growing. "We hope they will get to be a full D-cup," she said. "But if not, that is all right because we will have breast implants put in eventually, anyway." "Auntie that's too big, how big are you going to make them?" I asked fearing my own reaction to her answer. I've since stopped asking her that because every time I ask she keeps increasing the suggested size that a girl like me should have and I cannot imagine what I would look like with double-J-cups, let alone triple-M or OOOO. I have reached a D-cup after three years of hormones and my breasts seem to be a matter of pride to all of us. The constant female hormones had their effect on my genitals also, my underdeveloped penis became even smaller and the testicles shrank and became so soft as to seem to have vanished. The morning hard-on I had become accustomed to also disappeared, in fact, by Christmas of that first year I could no longer get hard at all. The friction I had used to jerk-off now produced a warm feeling all over with hot points at groin and nipples, lips and earlobes.

It takes longer to achieve release but when it comes it fills me and carries me outside myself and seems to last for minutes, less an explosion and more of a bloom of passion. I had never been strong like most men but now even ordinary doors seemed heavy and awkward. Natasha/Mike encouraged me in my weakness saying it fit my new feminine image. I was not allowing me to lift or carry even so much as a loaded plate of food onto the patio of their beautiful home. Eventually, I became proud of my enervation and the fact that my grip is not sufficient to carry heavy things. At first I had chores to do around the house, girl-type chores. Like helping with cooking meals and cleaning the house and Dolly began to teach me to sew. But as time went on, I was relieved of my duties. "Your job is to look pretty," Dolly would tell me when I tried to help.

I sometimes feigned being too weak for a chore I did not want to do anymore. Such behavior was rewarded instead of punished by having that chore removed from my list of duties, permanently until no chores were left, nothing. It remained that my sole obligation in this household to "look pretty and walk sexy and act like a femme fatale." About midway in the second year my Aunt started changing my wardrobe. I was dressed a lot older, oh I still wore little girl things once in a while to tease them, but now I was dressed more like a glamorous B-movie queen. And I certainly do look pretty in my lacy dresses and hair bows and clinky jewelry and high heel shoes. I swish and mince in my ladies high heels and jingle and jangle in my jewelry as I parade about in and oh so feminine a manner. I do it so often now I love it, I feel so girlish, so sexy.

I know that's what they want to see and I love doing it. Sometimes Dolly poses me in front of a mirror and makes me just look at myself for hours. I am ordered to study my eye make-up looking for ways to improve it. I must watch how my sexy bright red lips move when I speak. The girl in the mirror is always trying to look as sexy and exciting as possible. I know that she is really me a boy, but it so exciting to watch my feminine image. Along with changes caused by the hormones were other physical changes. I sit there perched on a high stool or standing and practice all my feminine gestures and mannerisms.

I pat my curls into place with my long red nails. I blow kisses to the girl in the mirror. I hold out my arms with a nice limp wrist displaying my long red nails and dazzling lady's cocktail rings. I play with my tits and caress them. I practice putting on lipstick. Dozen of things like that.

Now that my hair has grown out to a more feminine length my aunt/mother has bleached and curled it and taught me to take care of it. At first I did it all, but eventually just like my other chores that seemed to stop too. She seemed to prefer to do all of that herself, I think she loves doing it because she feels extreme pleasure from feminizing me knowing I'm really a boy. I am like her living Barbie doll because I don't get dressed or do my makeup she always chooses my clothes and dresses me up as well as doing my hair and makeup. My hair is now long and platinum blonde and set in pink curlers by Aunt Dolly almost every night.

She says I look so adorable in pink curlers with my face completely made up and big earrings dangling from my ears. Sometimes I have to wear a ladies scarf on my head over the curlers, sometimes not. She seems to enjoy setting my hair and I seem to enjoy the thrill of being a pretty dainty little Sissy Miss in curlers. She's right I do look so adorable in pink curlers all made up, I love patting them into place while posing for her.

Sometimes it's uncomfortable even painful having my hair set in curlers she wraps them so tight, but there also seems to be some deep seeded need in me to endure the pain in order to be even more beautiful tomorrow. There's just something so totally feminine and girlish about having your hair set in pink curlers, that I don't mind the discomfort. I tell them I hate it because a boy is not supposed to have platinum blonde hair set in pink curlers. But deep down inside we both know I'm lying I love it even though I protest. The sight of my beautifully made up face with pink curlers and long dangling earrings and perhaps a nylon kerchief is just oh so girlish I adore it. I feel totally imprisoned in girlish soft silken femininity.

I've come to look forward to having Auntie set my blonde hair in curlers, the tighter she winds them in the better I like it. It's so weird, but it's like having my head squeezed and imprisoned in a wonderful feminine vise. Enveloping my head in it's perfumed grip of sweet femininity. One would think the discomfort would make you hate it, instead I have feelings of sweet feminine submission to the beautification process. I simply adore being feminized by her.

Aunt Dolly soon added acrylic nail extensions to give me long, elegant ladylike nails while mine grew out to proper length. She said a proper lady would never have short nails. The two-inch long nails made it difficult to do many things but Aunt Monica or Mom as I now thought of her said I would have to get used to it, as I would never again wear them any shorter then 2" only longer later on. She told me all pretty girls love having long red nails and that mine were exceptionally pretty. If I complained that I could not do something specific because of my long nails or my weakness or the way I was dressed then I was forbidden ever to do that thing again." I can't put on my eye makeup with nails longer than the applicator," I once pouted. After that Dolly took over doing my eyes for me.

Dolly promised a sissy spanking every time I broke a nail, adding an extra swat each time. The first week, I got four spankings and one or two per week, after that for a while. I felt so girlish and feminine being spanked like a naughty girl. I squealed in a high pitched voice and wiggled on her lap, she loved it.

Later on, she changed the rules; when I got up to 30 swats, she decided I was a very naughty little sissy girl and that I could not have my weekly spanking if I broke any nails. I haven't broken any nails in over a year. I just adore my weekly spankings, being a submissive little Miss being punished like a sissy girl excites me to no end.

Sometimes Aunt Monica/Mom puts me over her knee, sometimes Natasha/Mike makes me bend over and paddles me. Neither of them really hurt me, just enough to make it sting and yelp and get me a bright red ass. Needless to say the growth of the nails were part of the reason I no longer help with the cooking or cleaning nor even dress or bathe myself anymore. My nails are kept at about three inches long now and elegantly painted twice a week, Aunt Dot prefers dramatics colors fuchsia or deep lavender, red or dark purple; usually to match my lips. None of those fad nail decorations for me only long sexy ultra feminine nails.

Aunt Monica said that I must wear ladies high heels always from now on, no more little girl shoes only shoes designed for a older mature lady. The lowest I'm allowed to wear are 5" and the highest are 15" with 10" platforms. I must wear my high heels all the time now except went showering or in bed. Many of these high heels were extreme and I fear that those became my favorites. Within a month or so, I had a hard time walking without high heels. Isn't it strange first I had a hard time walking in them, now I have a hard time walking without them.

I had nowhere to go in any case for fear of the terrorists kept all of us near home to begin with and later, well leaving the house was just unthinkable. I am seldom allowed to sit on a couch or anything low. Most of my clothing and corsets do not permit bending that way anyway. If I do sit it's usually perched on a high stool or higher chair. I must be perched daintily like a lady. Natasha used her electrolysis machine to remove my eyebrows and any other unwanted hair like underarms, legs and pubic hairs as well as the stray facial and chest hairs. It has taken a while but I was now completely without hair except for my eyelashes and platinum blonde hairdo. The long process was painful to say the least but I endured it because I knew the results would make me even more beautiful. Natasha/Mike seemed to enjoy these sessions and after the first few, so did I. My naked smooth little sissy cock now matched the rest of my smooth feminine body.

Natasha/Mike said the electrolysis would never end completely because new hairs sprout now and again but we were down to half-hour sessions once per week. She spends much of the time on Monday mornings just caressing my body, searching for the tiny bristles. I love this. The tattoo sessions went similarly as Natasha applied permanent lip liner and eyeliner. She drew my eyes wider, the corners a half-inch beyond their natural dimensions with black eyeliner along both upper and lower lids. Delicate dots and lines curving away from the eyeliner simulated mascara. My lips she also drew much fuller and bigger, in a perpetual feminine pout. Later she filled in my lips, eyebrows and eyelids with tattooed color.

A bright, true red for my lips deep and rich in color, with greens and violets for my eyes. She also tattooed a beautiful fuchsia blush onto my cheeks. I now had enormously large made-up eyes, full sensual lips, severely arching high thin brows and hollow cheeks that are all permanent, needing only a little makeup to perfect them and of course gluing on my thick enormous false eyelashes, but even the glue for these is semi-permanent and I only have to glue them on once a week. At first the huge thick false eyelashes felt so heavy, but now I love the way they feel. I feel like a glamorous movie star. The corsets I began wearing the second week cinched my waist in to about twenty-one inches at first. I had several, with lambs' wool corset liners and lovely silken corset covers in with pink and lavender lace. I wear my pretty corsets at least fourteen hours per day and continuously Fridays and Saturdays.

Constant wearing of the corsets with a strictly controlled diet has reduced my waist to slightly more than nineteen inches. At first, I felt hungry all the time and I would try to steal food. But Natasha made several masks for me with mouthpieces so I could not feed myself when she had locked one of them in place. The masks were never removed until Natasha had tied my hands behind me or fastened them to loops on my belt or to a chair or other piece of furniture. Then Dot would feed me, only just a few spoonfuls at a time then back in the mask. Some of the masks did not have eye holes and Dolly or Natasha would have to lead me around but all of the masks are beautiful, lovely painted face of exotic women. Lately, if I ask nicely, Dolly will let me wear one of the masks for a few hours.

Yesterday, she made me beg. Sometimes Natasha videotapes me being led about with the mask in place and later we watch the videos to see how pretty I look with my painted on silent exotic feminine face being lead about the house in my extreme high heels. Natasha has taken to inserting various rubber butt plugs with which she fills my ass. At first these devices were quite small, no larger than my pinkie, but the one inside me now, but now I'm up to a full size male cock. Aunt Dolly tells me a nice cock up inside me will help me feel more like a girl getting fucked and will also help me wiggle around daintily in my tight costumes. Helping me to mince and swish properly like a little sissy girl should. Mother says it should serve as a constant reminder that I am no longer a real boy but a little sissy boy, a boy all dressed and made up like a girl with a cock up my sissy ass. Wherever I go sitting, standing, kneeling I'll always be getting fucked the way a little sissy girl should be fucked. And I love the feeling of being used and fucked like a girl.

My ears have of course have been pierced like a girl too, not just the lobes but the upper part also. Aunt Dolly puts in a variety of earrings depending on my costume. Sometimes long heavy dangling chandelier earrings or sometimes I wear enormous seven-inch hoops through the lobes and smaller four-inch and one-and-three-quarter-inch hoops as well. Little sliding bells on the circular hoops jingle when I walk and they jangle against each other. The upper piercings are a variety of jeweled studs and tiny rings.

I know I will get punished for staining my pretty things but thinking about getting punished is almost certain to cause me to have one of my little accidents as Aunt Dolly calls them. "Oh, dear," she will say. "Rhonda has been a bad girl and made a little stain on her panties again." She strips most of my clothing off then, except my corset and boots and makes me lie on the bed. Then Natasha locks my hands into leather mittens that are chained to the headboard. Padded cuffs just below my knees are chained to the side of the bed so I cannot squeeze my thighs together. Not being allowed to touch myself. After this Aunt Dolly has teases me and strokes me nearly to climax causes me to whimper through the ball gag or harness gag. I simply lie there whimpering through my gag while Natasha and Mom take turns stroking my little girlish smooth sissy cock. The passion grows as I struggle. Sometimes they do it all at once, but sometimes they go away to return later. I know that someone will at last return to bring me to climax except that sometimes when they return they remove my ball or penis gag and make me beg to be whipped before the give me my sexual release. If I get too excited too soon Dolly or Natasha put nipple clamps on my tits. The pain from these causes my excitement to go down, while more stroking from Dolly or Natasha caused it to go up.

Lately, they taken to chaining me in a jeweled collar I wear to the wall on a very short lead. I may not sit, but must stand in my fourteen-inch high-heeled platform boots. My whimpers and cries of submission are so pitiable that Natasha and Dolly often use a penis gag or harness gag me to keep me quiet. After these times I am always grateful to be fastened again to the supports Natasha has provided in various places but I know I will soon transgress some rule and so find my reason for some sweet punishment. Many times I protested this transformation but my aunt and her Lesbian lover have managed to keep me obedient and docile, unable to physically resist or run away.

They love watching me struggle to walk in the most extreme ladies high heels. They enjoy having me mince about daintily in my severe high heels while I wobble about the living room trying to be dainty, swishy and feminine while struggling to maintain my balance. It seems the more swishy and homosexual I act the more they like it and the less they punish me. So to keep them happy I always try to give a great mincing and swishing performance. It easier to display myself like a mincing, swishing, little sissy bitch then to get punished again. I am a cross between a glamour girl, a raging homosexual drag queen and a fetish transvestite now. Dolly calls it a Trans-Queen. They love to see me mincing about in my extreme high-heels like this acting like a little homosexual fairy.

One of their favorite games is to attach a pink bow with a gold chain to my cock and lead me around the house by my cock, on their leash. Sometimes they make me wear one of the masks with the painted on faces too. They prefer the whorey slutty looking one. First they gag me with a ball gag and then the mask is placed over my face to display the perfect whore made up image. But other times they prefer to see my pretty expressively made up face. In either case I must mince daintily along behind them, mincing and swishing in those ultra high heels as they lead me by my cock. Wobbling around the house one hand held out elegantly with a limp wrist and my long nails displayed the other hand on my hip, displaying my long painted nails like a fashionable lady.

They take endless delight in seeing paraded around like a pumped up overly feminine little dolly. I knew what was happening but I could do nothing to stop it. After awhile I knew that my protestations had been, or at least, had become sham because I liked nothing better then to be mincing about in those lovely extreme high heels displaying myself like a glorious femme fatale. Natasha calls it a fashionable lady, but we both know it truth it's more homosexual drag queen. A real fashionable woman wouldn't really dress like this, but a drag queen or as they called it a Trans-Queen would.

When they do not use the mask Mother has taken to making me use a variety of accessories also. Long jeweled ladies cigarette holders held with my glorious long nail, sometimes jeweled fans, daintily swishy feminine scarves, whatever occurs to them, and of course I must use all of these articles in the most feminine of manners. I still continue to protest, vainly but with heat I do not have to pretend to. There is something wrong with an aunt transforming her half-brother's son into what I have become and pretending to be his Mother. The guilt and shame I feel in my own pleasure in the process are themselves part of the pleasure and my protests part of the game. Every night It's, "Oh please Mother don't make me wear that or please don't make me do this". While secretly we both know I've come to adore all the feminine games. How gloriously feminine it is to be painted, powered, laced, heeled, perfumed, bejeweled and displayed like a whore.

I've come to adore being lead around the house on a leash by my beribboned or jeweled smooth sissy cock. Mincing daintily in the most extreme high-heels and carrying a purse or scarf or ladies fan. Whimpering when they tug on my leash saying, "Come along my dainty pretty painted little sissy girl". "Yes Mother, your little fairy is mincing right behind you."

For I know it is a game now. We are not in hiding from terrorists but from my parents. No one really says it out loud, but by now it's obvious Natasha and Dolly kidnapped me for their own amusement. They have almost but not admitted as much to me. They fell in love with me and knew I would make the perfect sissy girl addition to their lives and they uprooted all of our lives for the love of me and what they wanted to make of me. Natasha hates men and Dolly fears them; they wanted to take a man, or really a boy for that is what I was at only seventeen, and make him into a perfect Barbie doll love slave. They dreamed up the terrorist story to get me to go along with the charade in the beginning.

I was devastated when I learned the truth. These months, now more than three years that I have sacrificed my manhood to an illusionary safety. Or did I? I certainly didn't resist very much, not even in the beginning. Maybe my Aunt was right and I secretly wanted to be feminized all along. "It's for the best, Rhonda," Aunt Dolly said. "You have made a lovely girl where as a boy you were a pitiful, weak and a failure. Look how easy we talked you into our scheme." I had to admit that she was right.

The boy Rhonda was hardly anything that a person could be proud of but as Rhonda the girl I was a beautiful and desired object of my captors lust, the perfect image of sexual desire. I didn't care any more that they had dressed me like a female or that I was slowly being turned completely into a mincing swishing cross-dressed homosexual. When the surgery is done later this month, enlarging my breasts and buttocks with implants giving me those enormous breasts that Mother hinted at before, Dolly and Natasha have promised to find me lots of lovers to please my new found love of femininity. I now look forward to fulfilling my feminine role to the maximum. To serve and sexually please others as only a heavily made up, highly bejeweled, highly heeled whore can. Of course Dolly and Natasha will still be my special lovers, but Dolly has indicated I need to sample others to fulfill my feminine destiny to it's fullest.

Hope and fear mingle in me to such a degree as to make my skin tingle and my lips and nipples ache to be stroked, to be touched. To be loved. Dare I be good? For if I am to dressed like a girl, completely, totally, always, at last, this tortuous doubt will be over. What will be my reason for living then? Dolly tells me not to worry. She promises that I will find true purpose and happiness soon. She says that in me she has created a very, very special type of woman. A woman most would not understand, but that there are many who need and desire a woman like myself. She promises that helping these people to achieve sexual satisfaction will be my reward. Knowing that no one in the world can please them but a woman like me. I have become unique providing a pleasure that no one else in the world can provide like I do.

She keeps me very heavily made-up at all times with 1 1/2" long very thick false eyelashes permanently glued on and my permanent make-up usually highlighted by more real make-up to enhance my dramatics looks. Natasha loves watching me bat my long thick false eyelashes for her acting so girlish and coy a simpering girlish sissy. My Breasts are huge now, 60MM cups and my tiny corseted waist is so small, my hair-dos have become very elaborate, but of course I don't style them myself, Dolly styles them or sends them out to be styled. She sometimes even adds wiglets and other hairpieces to my already big hairdos. Natasha has me smoking now whenever I'm on display as she puts it, which is almost always, and has taught me how to handle myself like an elegant femme fatale. My 3" long nails are now only used for holding a long jeweled cigarette holder and smoking erotically or them or for stroking my current lover's cock. Sometimes they make me do both at the same time.

I must stand towering over some poor little wimp in my 14" platform high heel boots. Smoking from a long jeweled cigarette holder while I casually stroke his cock and smoke and tease him. I love this too the feeling of total sexual power is intense. It usually doesn't take very long for him to orgasm. I simply stand there and say, "Do you like my outfit darling?" "Look into my beautifully made up eyes slave, go ahead you may stare at my face, I know you love it." "Do you enjoy watching me smoke sweetie, does it excite you?" "Do you have fantasies about my gorgeous red lips darling?" All this is going on while I milk him.

Natasha and Dolly adore bringing in strangers, gay men who are cross dressers or sissies or real wimps they have found for me to entertain. Of course they always want to watch me do my thing. I actually like it. I feel like a beautiful move star, glamorous and performing to her audience. My Aunt is the director of the movie and I am it's glamorous movie star. And just like a glamorous actress I am taken to wardrobe, prepared, made up, styled and then I go on stage and perform. I also feel so much more dominate than being used by auntie. So I've really become quite addicted to doing this. For a change I'm in control.

I'm made up and dressed for my role just like a rich movie actress and then sent out to perform my role. It's like giving double pleasure I not only please my current lover but I also get to please Dolly and Natasha with my sexual performances. Mother tapes all of the performances and later we watch them and giggle like schoolgirls over the control I have over the others. She just loves watching me tease them to death. I've become the world's most advanced cock teasing bitch. Mother will not allow any real men in any more only homosexual cross dressers and sissies dressed as girls or totally submissive men who like being used and abused. Mother says she likes to keep everything very feminine, just like me. Mother says she wants me to start learning to their suck cock and get fucked by them also like a girl but only by other sissies or her or Natasha. Real men are never allowed into our world of feminine glamour only those dressed like women.

They are mostly one-night stands, they come and they go, but I am forced to please them all. I think Dolly and Natasha find them at local S & M clubs or female impersonator clubs or bars where crossdressers hang out. In the beginning I was sort of forced to do it. I was reluctant to suck their cock or get fucked. But now nothing pleases me more then teasing and pleasing my next cross-dressed sissy victim with my enticing exotic femininity. In doesn't even matter whether I'm a wicked dominant bitch Goddess or a cock sucking little sissy or a painted slut.

I have learned how to enjoy all my feminine roles. Mother has taught me how to play each role to the max. I always turn in an Academy Award performance. Natasha and Dolly lure them in one after another and I seduce them into the world of an exotic painted fetish she-males, a Trans-Queen. When I'm dominant stroking their cock with my 3" long nails and cock teasing them and sometimes spanking them. And when I'm playing a submissive part sucking their cocks with my luscious red lipsticked lips. Oh yes, lipsticked. I've found that even though my red lip color is permanent the "Girls love seeing lipstick all over their dick when I suck their cock. Mommy and Natasha love seeing a nice trail of bright red lipstick on their cocks while I suck them off.

It excites them and me to no end. So now I usually put deep dark red lipstick over my already red lips. I always keep the lipstick tube ready and close at hand in case I need a touch up to deposit more of my bright red lipstick all over their cock. Now nothing excites me more then the sight of a nice hard cock all covered with my red lipstick. Natasha loves to see them come in my face. It never even ruins my make-up since most of my eye makeup is permanent anyway. My heels are always over 6" inches. My bedroom slippers are 5" spike heels. Everything else is 6" and up mostly 8" to 16" spike high heel platform shoes and boots with huge platforms which I am made to walk around in all day and night. I am posed for many hours in front of the mirror admiring the perfect feminine fetish model I have become. I must practice all my feminine mannerisms and gestures in the mirror. Blowing kisses, brushing my hair back, fluffing my curls, smoking from my long cigarette holder, waving my scarf daintily. It's almost as if I'm cock teasing myself. Then later I'll use all the gestures mannerisms and talk I've learned to tease my victims. If I am good Dolly and Natasha allow me to stroke my cock or caress my huge tits while I view my glamorous feminine image. I could stare for hours at that beautiful painted feminine face, my huge swaying earrings and my jingling bracelets and enormous tits.

Today they have brought yet another sissy transvestite to the ultimate pleasure of my fetish she-male world. First Dot and Natasha dressed him in a little 10 year rich girl's pink party dress with petticoats. Then he is made him up, but of course more make up than a little girl would ever be allowed to wear. A girlish honey blonde sausage curl girl's wig is put on him and then I enter. The dominant bitch goddess!! Dolly and Natasha have already punished him with a severe spanking that leaves his ass stinging and red and he is standing there in his cute little pink dress and holding a purse and sobbing just like a little girl begging the ladies for mercy and sexual release. I am of course severely corseted and displaying my huge tits but I wear no panties and my bejeweled sissy cock is plainly on display covered with a rhinestone type bracelet. He cowers and whimpers at the very sight of me sobbing even more. Half frightened and half in awe of the beautiful Trans-Queen that now stands in front of him. But he can not take his eyes off of me. Dolly and Natasha both know he's mesmerized by this fantasy girl, but a she-male girl. I can actually see him trembling in awe of being in the presence of such an exotic woman.

Natasha orders him to kiss my 14" platform boots with his newly painted lipsticked lips and tell me how much he worships me. Mother informs him he could be milked of all his girlish sissy cream by this supreme Bitch Goddess, but only if he promises to be a complete submissive little sissy girl from now on. He is informed he must address me a Mother or Mommy also from now on as a show of respect.

And submit they to this they always do. I shoved a pink butt plug in his ass to made him feel like a proper sissy girl and then whipped him with a riding crop while verbally abusing him and forcing him to humiliate himself. "Please Mommy I love you, I promise to always be your naughty little fairy." "Please Mommy make me be a little sissy girl, I need it." "Please Mommy I love you you're the most beautiful woman in the world, I want to be your little sissy cocksucker." His reward for submitting to all this was to have me stroke his cock with my long red nails until he spurts his lovely little white sissy cream. Telling him about all the wonderful girlish things that awaited him. If he got too excited too fast a smack from the riding crop brought him down a notch. Using this alternating method of pain and extreme pleasure we were able to keep him on the edge for almost a half hour, All the time begging, whimpering and humiliating himself.

When it was obvious he was nearing the end he was made to stand on a little platform with a couple of steps that Natasha had made. He was of course still dildoed with his pink butt plug and Dolly removed his pink party dress. The platform was designed to put his cock on the same level as my mouth while I stood in my 14" platform heels. Then all I had to do was step up to him and suck his cock to climax while he shuddered in receiving the ultimate pleasure from his new she-male Mommy. I'm never sure but I think these people are paying Mother a lot of money to have their fantasy fulfilled by me and I certainly don't care either way any more because I love it.

Lately Dolly has added nipple clamps to my huge 60MM breasts. They have a gold dangling chain with a little gold ID tag it the middle, it simply says "Cunt". I know this is a contradiction, since my be-jeweled sissy cock is almost always displayed, but we all agree it seems to fit my new whore image. Because that's what I have become a cock sucking, heavily painted, big breasted, high-heeled sissy cunt…. Thank God.

  

  

  

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