The Terrace View Apartments               by: Sean McBride

 

Chapter 7 - "Mike"

My new life had settled into a wonderful routine. I would wake very early in the morning, usually still wrapped securely in Mistress Kendra’s arms. I would spend an hour or so working on my figure maintenance exercises, enjoy a cleansing enema, a refreshing bath and body shave, then I would lace and lock myself into my skimpy maid’s uniform, do my makeup and hair, and be ready to see to the needs of our many residents by 6:00am.

It was all run like clockwork. On a typical weekday morning, I would wake up Mr. Johnson with a languid blowjob at exactly 6:05am. Miss Davis and Miss McIntyre required my tongue lapping at their sex by 6:20. Mr. Evans preferred rising at 6:50 to the probing of my tongue in his asshole while he slowly stroked himself to orgasm and let his ejaculate fluid dribble down his crack into my waiting mouth. Of course my reputation as a human toilet went before me, and most of the men (and some of the women) also opted to use my mouth for their morning bathroom.

Mr. and Mrs. Hayes mostly wanted a servant to bring them breakfast in bed each morning at 7:15; although Mr. Hayes did wake with a mean streak in him on some mornings. He would sometimes dip my tender testicles in his coffee cup or stick pins into my nipples in order to see how much pain I could stand.

But this was nothing compared to Mr. Johnson in suite 405. Each Monday and Thursday, I would let myself into his room by 7:45am, and I would usually find one or two of our maid staff hanging immobile from the chains in his playroom. I would release them from their bondage, calling for our support staff when they couldn’t physically walk back to their quarters.

I would then go to the imposing steel chair in the middle of the room and lower myself down onto a 14" dildo that jutted up through the seat. I would lock my thighs to the seat with two attached straps, slip a penis gag down my throat, blindfold myself, lock my hands behind my back with a pair of handcuffs, and then hit the nearby on switch.

Underneath the seat was a powerful motor that slowly began to pump the large dildo in and out of my ass. It always felt great for the first five minutes or so. But after every 50 thrusts, the mechanism in the dildo expanded it by a few millimeters in diameter and in length. Those millimeters added up in very little time. Within minutes, the pleasant dildo became a monster battering ram pounding cruelly into my locked-down flesh.

By the time Mr. Johnson awoke, I would have been in sheer agony for quite some time. Which was exactly the point of his fantasy. He enjoyed waking from his sleep with the muffled sounds of a slave being tortured filling the room. Every morning, if I hadn’t passed out from the pain, I gave him precisely the sound of agony that what he wanted. Fortunately for me, the Terrace View Apartment management would not let him use his machine for more than 20 minutes at a time, for fear that it would literally rip one of the slaves in half.

So when the machine finally automatically cut off, Johnson would reluctantly get out of bed and release me. I would be dragged to the bathroom where Mr. Johnson would bend me over and shove his cock into my behind and proceed to piss freely into my stretched-out anal passage. I always moaned in pain because he liked to think that I was suffering, but the truth be told, I always enjoyed this part of our morning ritual because his urine always quenched the fire in my abused ass.

None of the staff had to service Mr. Johnson more than twice a week, and we were always given some time to recuperate after our visits to his suite. So I would enjoy a short nap in my cage, after which I would dress again and set about my maid duties, cleaning the rooms in the complex, tending to the outside lawn and gardens, and of course, servicing the always horny support and security staff.

None of the maids were given a lunch break, but we were usually finished with our menial duties by 3 or 4pm. We would usually dress in our skimpy bikinis and lounge about the pool for a while, or we would grab a quick nap in our cages. If we were good, we would also be allowed to play with each other if we were horny. And the maid staff was always horny. Usually a full-scale orgy would break out poolside, or a half-dozen naked-maids would be crammed into a small sleeping cage, an orgiastic blur of hands and mouths and genitals.

Pity the poor maids that were locked into chastities or who were so far along in their hormone therapy that they couldn’t achieve any relief. Fortunately for me, even with my own daily regimen of hormones, my fellow maids were usually adept enough to coax a climax out of me.

Personal playtime always ended by 6pm, when we were all expected to be completely dressed for a night on the town in our sexiest eveningwear. These were usually low-cut dressed that mostly showed off our surgically enhanced breasts, and they never left much to the imagination. In addition to the dresses, we all had a metallic butt plug locked deep inside our nether passages. On the belt that held the plug securely in place was a radio receiver and a battery pack. It was completely hidden from view, but believe me when I say that all of the girls were constantly aware of its presence. If we tried to run away, or even if we just displeased one of our trainers, a simple button would send a debilitating electric shock right into our most sensitive parts.

Our trainers always demonstrated the punishment on one sissy each night, and the memory of that pain was enough to ensure that we all did exactly what we were told each evening.

But there was also a low setting that made the plugs buzz in a pleasurable fashion. If we did what we were told, we always received the reward of the vibrating plug, which quickly became a maddening itch that needed to be scratched. It never failed—after a few minutes of our reward, we were all so horny that we would do anything our trainers asked in order to get some relief from the sweet torment.

Anyway, we would wait until our trainers called us, horny as hell and never knowing what the night would hold for each of us. For most, we would simply be called upon to service the various sexual needs of our residents in their private rooms. That could mean a night of exquisite pleasure, or in the case of Mr. Johnson, it could mean several hours of constant pain and torture. Fortunately, I was frequently protected from Mr. Johnson’s "moods", as Mistress Kendra would reserve my services for a night on the town. I truly loved those evenings when we would drive to a nice restaurant or nightclub and enjoy a night out as two girlfriends.

Mistress Kendra loved to dance, so we usually ended up at her favorite club. I would usually be wearing 5 or 6-inch heels, but I too enjoyed dancing, so I put up with the sharp pain in my feet in order to please my mistress. I lived to only serve her needs, and it showed in my dancing. Almost always, we would only get a few dances in before a group of men would surround "those two sexy lesbos" and offer to make real women out of us both.

Mistress Kendra always accepted on my behalf, and so I always ended up sucking off or being fucked by an anonymous stranger or two in the parking lot.

But just once, it wasn’t a complete stranger who fucked me.

It was Mike Summers, my best friend from my old life in Chicago. He certainly didn’t recognize me as his old college buddy. Of course, I had undergone a radical physical change since we last spoke. And, as I spent most of the night with my mouth wrapped around his penis or facing away from him as he slammed into me from behind, he never got a good look at my face.

Still, I recognized him immediately. In between slurps on his cock, I coyly asked what he was doing in Houston. Mike explained that he had accepted a great job here when his best friend was a no-show at the company. Now he was living out a new life as a sexy single with a great job, a nice apartment and a lot of free time to fuck his way though the best that Houston had to offer.

I was jealous for a brief moment. After all, his great new life was supposed to have been mine. I was supposed to have been the guy getting blowjobs from knock out beautiful women—not the woman giving the blowjobs. But I got over my petty jealousy when Mike shot the biggest load of cum down my throat that I had ever received. As I choked it all down, I realized that I had quite grown to love the taste of a man’s ejaculate. When somebody like Mike could give me a full-course meal of spunk, well I knew immediately that I wanted to see and taste more of the man that Mistress Kendra quickly dubbed "The hydrant."

Mike invited me to his apartment, and Mistress Kendra gave her permission; provided that he return me to the Terrace View complex by 4am. Mike quickly agreed, horny as hell with the thought of a sissy slave at his complete command, so he drove me across town to a lavish love-pad on the West Side of town. Half way across town, right in the middle of a busy thoroughfare, he suddenly ordered me to strip naked and get in his trunk. I think that he wanted to test my devotion. Well I passed his test completely, and the Saturday night traffic honked in appreciation when a sexy woman suddenly got out of the car in the middle of the street, stripped off her blouse, flashed her breasts at the surprised gawkers and then stepped daintily into the trunk of a BMW convertible just as the light turned green.

I must admit that this little exhibitionistic performance excited me quite a bit. It’s one thing to be on display at the apartment complex, but in front of anybody and everybody in the city, well that had my hormone-shrunken penis straining for an erection.

When we finally arrived at Mike’s place, we didn’t talk much at all. Of course, we didn’t have any time, as I sucked him to two orgasms and he also shot another load into my ass. Mike also brought me to an orgasm with his oral ministrations, something quite unusual in all my experience as a sex slave to Houston’s late-night kinkfest. All in all, it was an amazing, sweat-drenched, cum-filled night of bliss in the arms of a man I had once thought of as just another computer geek on campus.

By 3:00am, as we lay exhausted in his bed, I finally screwed up my courage and asked Mike a few questions about his friend that never showed up for work. I feared that he would recognize me by my questioning, but lust had clouded Mike’s mind. He saw only the sexy slut bent on servicing his every sexual need. He didn’t realize that it was I, his former best friend, who was now sucking lasciviously upon his constantly erect and dripping cock.

After one last blowjob, Mike dropped me off at the Terrace View Apartments at 4:15am, but not before apologizing for my tardiness and making a date for a few nights hence. I eagerly confessed it all to Mistress Kendra, including our past friendship as she tied me to the rack and whipped me with her cat o’ nine. In my agony, I confessed my past and how much I had enjoyed servicing Mike’s every sexual need, and how I longed to serve him again soon. Mistress Kendra found the whole situation very amusing. She was still angry that I had come home late, be her mind was also filled with the erotic possibilities that Mike presented.

So two nights hence, when I was to meet Mike at a local bar for a night out on the town, Mistress Kendra unexpectedly joined us. We had a quick drink and then retired to Mike’s place. Two other men showed up for our mini-orgy, and while I sucked Mike’s cock and two large black men took turns slamming into me from behind, Mistress Kendra subtly asked Mike about his missing friend from college. She had all sorts of leading questions, but Mike never got the hint. So after several hours of sexual fun, as my former best friend shot another copious load of cum down my throat, Mistress Kendra finally laughed and told him that it was his old college buddy who now had his lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

Mike immediately sensed the truth in what she was saying. Everything stopped as he carefully studied the situation, and the sissy-slut bent eagerly over his cock. I admitted that I was indeed his long-lost friend, and I also explained that I was happier now in my life of sexual slavery than I had ever been in my earlier life. But it was no use. Mike was completely freaked out by the thought of me being turned into a woman.

He asked us to leave; saying that it was all too much for him. But as I was leaving, I noticed that he still had his erection, which revealed that part of him was still interested in me.

As we gathered our clothing, I surprised Mike by suddenly turning and whispering seductively into his ear that I had really enjoyed our past few evenings together. "Mike, old buddy," I whispered as my fingernails deftly caressed his rock-hard cock, "forget about the past. Think of the future. This could be your future. Just call me when you’re ready."

I kissed him, my tongue insistently invading his mouth. And then I abruptly turned on my heels and sauntered out, putting my sexiest sway into my walk. My hope was that between my words, my tongue and the image of my ass going out the door, Mike would give in and call me back soon.

Mike held out for two weeks before he showed up at the gates of the Terrace View Apartments. I saw him drive up, and was happy to see his BMW waved past the gates. But it was not what I was hoping for. Mike had changed. The disheveled man who stumbled out of the car was not the sex stud I had enjoyed a few weeks ago. He was merely a shell of his former self. He said something to one of the guards, and as he reached forward, the guard shot a load of pepper spray right into his face. In obvious agony, Mike crawled forward, and was rewarded with more pepper spray.

Now there was a large group of guards surrounding Mike, and they laughed cruelly at his pain. Mike kept scratching at his eyes, and finally, one of the guards took pity and pissed directly into Mike’s swollen eyes. The rest of the guards joined in the shower, and then Mike was unceremoniously shoved into a fountain.

Mike, the man with a constantly erect cock, meekly stood and stripped his clothing off in front of a bemused crowd of gathered residents. He slowly dropped to his hands and knees, and then crawled halfway across the complex. He finally found Mistress Kendra flogging a maid in the courtyard. Through tears of joy, he pleaded with her for the opportunity to join our staff at the Terrace View Apartments. He begged to replace the maid on the rack, and after fifteen minutes of heart-felt supplication, Mistress Kendra gave in to his pleas.

Mike was immediately hoisted up and locked to the punishment frame. He was quivering in sexual anticipation when Mistress Kendra turned and handed me the whip. "Well, he’s your friend," she said. "Why don’t you do the honors and welcome him to our little home."

The assembled crowd laughed as I lashed out and marked Mike for the first time with the sting of my whip.

 

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© 2001 by Sean McBride. 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.